My purpose: To savor life.

Illegal immigration ain’t all bad. At least from my perspective. If it weren’t for my paternal grandfather Karl Broede sneaking into America. Around 1900. When he was barely 20 years old.  I’d not be around. My grandfather’s arrival set off a series of events.  He met his wife. In Chicago. They had three children. Including my father Arthur Broede. And from Art came three more children. With me being the first. In 1935. And here I am. Alive and functioning. Happily. Able, in retrospect, to celebrate my grandfather’s wise decision. To leave Germany. For America.  He did himself a favor, too. By not being around in Germany. For the Holocaust and the Third Reich and Hitler. Makes me wonder. What his life would have been like. If he hadn’t hopped aboard a freighter. To find a new and happy life. Across the ocean. Albeit, in an illegal way. But then, there might not be a right or a wrong way. Just a way. A mere happenstance. That brought me into the world. For a purpose. To savor life. --Jim Broede