Makes me a lucky guy.

I have multiple priorities. Always have. Always will. As for my No. 1 priority. That varies from day to day. Generally, I put something that makes me happy. At the top of the list. Well-wishing friends encourage me to emphasize my health. Especially since I had carotid artery surgery 10 days ago. I really don’t need to be pushed on that matter. I’ve always taken good care of myself. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Anyway, I’m back to walking 10 miles a day. Two days after the surgery I drove my car back home. Alone. A trip of 30 miles. With permission of my surgeon, of course. Fact is, I need no favors. I do my own shopping. Cook my own meals. Do the daily household chores. Tend to my beloved cat Marcello. Read the New York Times. Books, too. Mostly novels. And give advice. To some of my dearest friends. Including Rosie. A staunch supporter of Donald Trump. Much to my consternation. Good thing. Rosie tolerates me. And I tolerate her. That’s what friends are supposed to do. Rosie tries to steer me off the subject of Trump. Maybe because she fears Trump will raise my blood pressure. And slow my recovery from surgery. Believe me. I can handle it all. Trump doesn’t faze me. Despite the fact that he’s an evil man. It would be nice. If Rosie concurred. But Rosie is stubborn. Plus, she has her own independent mind. Seems that fits the description of most of my friends. Makes me a lucky guy. --Jim Broede

About the myth.

 I am going through a wonderful period. Of mellowing out. Resting. More or less. Similar to sitting along a babbling brook. In a primeval forest. Listening to the babble. With pleasure. To the sounds of nature. This is my religion. My cathedral, so to speak. My way to worship.  The divine. Nothing else matters. Because I am in my cherished element. Savoring. A spiritual prelude. I hear nothing of politics. Or the humdrum side of life. This is the way it was.  When I was Adam. And ate from the tree of sanctity. Don’t give me all the baloney. About the myth. Of the tree of knowledge. --Jim Broede

Believe it or not.

Perhaps I am living. During the strangest period of American History. When an idiot. Became president. If I had to choose any stage. This would be it. Yes, one would have to live in it. To believe it. Future generations will claim it never happened. It was imagined. It was too preposterous to be true.   It had to be made up.  But I’m leaving this note behind. For future generations to read. In 1,000 years. This is not a fairy tale. Inserted into American History. As a joke. On April Fool’s Day. In the year 2017. I, Jim Broede, lived it. Saw it. Believe me. It happened. Have pity. On those of us. Who endured.  The living Hell of it. ---Jim

My current state of being.

I’m trying to remember. The moment. When I had my first conscious thought. Something memorable. That I can recall. However vaguely. Makes me wonder. If that’s the true moment of birth. It’s not the moment that I squeezed my way out of my mother’s cozy womb. But the moment of true awareness. That I was me, myself, I. I’ve come a long way since then. But not nearly as far as it would be.  If I lived for 1,000 years. That would give me so much more time to expand my vocabulary. My conversant language. More able to express myself. In words. Perhaps I will have that opportunity. If I become spirit. Perhaps that will be the true moment of my birth. When I finally leave my embryonic stage. I will put it all in perspective. And realize that I was not fully alive. Until I reached spirithood.  And perhaps some day I'll reach an existence way, way beyond mere spirit.  Yes. Yes. I’d love it. If there were infinite stages of life. Allowing me to live forever. Maybe I’ve been around since the very beginning of time. Evolving. Evolving. Evolving  to higher levels of precious being  --Jim Broede

Pardon me. For the blunt truth.

Walking out of step. Just for the sake of walking out of step. I’m for it. If it doesn’t cause irreparable harm. Those who deny climate change. Such as the Trump Administration. They are out of step. With the scientific community.  They are Neanderthals. Living in a modern world. I’d not tolerate it. I would demand. That they learn to walk in step. Before it’s too late. To avert a disaster. At some point. We must serve the common good. And walk in step.  For the sake of the planet.  Better that. Than the way of the Neanderthals.  Pardon me. If I am being too blunt. With the truth. --Jim Broede

A brilliant bamboozler.

I have no problem. With fooling myself. Because I do it mostly. To make me feel better. About myself.  Could be. That I’m unhappy. When really I fooled myself into thinking (and believing) that I am happy.  Yes, I have become a master. At the art of being happy. By completely bamboozling myself. Of course, it’s easier for me to persuade me to be happy. Than it would be for me to convince some of my obstinate unhappy friends to feign happiness. Though I occasionally accept the challenge. After all, it’s an extraordinary  opportunity for me to practice my skills as a brilliant and natural born psychotherapist. --Jim Broede

Helps me keep my sanity.

Every day. On my life’s journey. I try to avoid the bad world. So that I can spend my time in the good world. Yes, I’ve discovered that there are two distinct worlds. Good and bad. So far, I’ve been lucky. I seldom end up in the bad world. And when I do, I plan my escape. Quickly.  For my own sake. So that I can pursue happiness. Everyone has a right to happiness. But in the bad world, happiness is very elusive. Hard to come by. I see the bad world from a distance, mostly.  In news reports from Syria and the Middle East and from the dysfunctional Trump White House.  Yes, mean-spirited stuff happens  constantly in those dreaded bad places. Hell on Earth.  Reason to keep safe distance. And to bed down  in the good world. Here in Minnesota. With occasional sojourns to Sardinia, to live with my Italian amore. I abhor having to reside part-time in a divided world and divided countries. But that’s reality. Sometimes I pretend. That the bad world doesn’t exist. Helps me sleep at night. Helps me keep my sanity, too. --Jim Broede

A gift. From our creator.

My Italian amore Cristina is Catholic. I’m not. Instead, I’m a spiritual free-thinker. But it really doesn’t matter. When it comes to our wonderful relationship.  We’re drawn together. More by our differences. Than by our similarities. She’s a woman. I’m a man. She’s Italian. I’m American. She’s younger. I’m older. We both happen to be political liberals. But it wouldn’t matter if she was conservative. Thing is. We like and love each other. Just the way we are. No need or desire for us to be clones of each other. We thrive on the differences. Because that’s precisely what gives us remarkable balance. Makes us what we are.  I’d not be the same. Without dear Cristina. And Cristina would not be the same. Without me. We need each other to be who we are. Cristina gives me life. And sustenance. And I return the favor. By giving her life and sustenance, It’s a perfect arrangement. Because we know how to accept each other. Just the way we are. No rigid requirement to change each other. We both have blemishes. But once again, that doesn’t matter. Because we are true lovers. True to each other. Yes, I have been fortunate. Blessed with two true loves in my exotic lifetime. First, Jeanne. My dear wife of 38 years. Until she died of Alzheimer’s. Of course, she still lives. In the spiritual realm. Where she probably has guided me. To my second true love. The divine Cristina. Life was meant to be this way. Destiny. That I accept. A loving blessing. From the creator.  Cristina knows it I know it. It’s a gift. From our creator. --Jim Broede

A civil society again.

Democrats and Republicans. You aren’t that far apart. You can resolve virtually all political issues. If you learn to act like decent and fair-minded people. It’s not impossible. I do it every day.  By reaching those around me. We accommodate each other.  By being nice. We get along. And become friends. Doing favors for each other. We devise plans.  Ways. To resolve controversial health care issues. With give and take. When’s the last time that legislation passed Congress with bipartisan support? It used to happen. On a regular basis. No gridlock. And we celebrated. Together We linked arms. And sang ‘We Shall Overcome.’ And then did what was best. For the common good. Not for selfish special interests. Yes, for the good of America. For all of us.  But we’ve become obstinate.  We tell the other side to go to Hell.  We allow no room for compromise. Democrats and Republicans vote as separate blocs. Engaged in open warfare. And here I am. On the sidelines. Trying to avoid the hateful taunts. Sometimes called tweets. From an embittered president. Tell me, when will this all end? And we become a civil society again. --Jim Broede

Life without end.

I don’t have to know the truth about others. But I need to know the truth about me. Even if it’s hard and brutal. If I can’t be totally honest with myself, how am I ever going to be totally honest with  the rest of the world? And especially with my maker. The creator. Consider. That I, and only I, can penetrate my interior soul and spirit.  It’s an inward journey. That can be launched. Only by me. I cannot get totally inside another being. Even my earthly true love. That’s where faith comes in. I am compelled. To accept another. Unconditionally.  An act of pure love. Nothing else matters. When I have learned to surrender. My everything. For the sake of love. Maybe that is the ultimate act of life. The love of my creator. For me. And the love of my creator. For he.  Yes. Yes. Unconditional love. Achieved on a tree-lined, two-way lane. Reaching to an endless rainbow. Extended forever. Life without end. --Jim Broede

Knowing the truth.

 I have several friends. Who care too much. About what others think of them. Yes, they are very concerned. About their own image.  I try to put their minds at ease.  Telling them. That it’s more important what they think of themselves. Self-respect goes a long way. Really, I’m not all that bothered. By what others may think of me. Even if it’s in a negative way. Wrong impressions are a part of life. I accept that. Better to get on with life. In a kind and caring manner. And if some others think wrongly of me, so be it. At least I know better. I know the truth. And yes, that really does set me free. How many of us, I often wonder, really know the truth about ourselves? --Jim Broede

A sense of destiny.

Thing is. I don’t always know where I am going. I go. And allow myself to be surprised. That’s the way I write. And live, too. Just feel my way. Destination unknown.  No sense in living by a rigid plan. Better to remain flexible. And adapt to the unexpected moment.  So many choices along the way. When I finally arrive. I have a sense of destiny. This was meant to be. --Jim Broede

You make my day.

Look at it this way, folks. When we challenge each other. In matters of religion, politics and life. It’s good. Because we need to be challenged. Put to the test. Disagreement is a good thing. You may convince me. To take a closer look at your side of the argument. And to shift my position. A little closer to yours. Or you may help me solidify staying exactly where  I am.  On the far left politically, for instance. You will have done me a favor. No matter the result. It’s nice that you would take the effort to sway me. Especially if it’s in a well-meaning way. I have already made  a favorable judgment about you. That you are well-meaning and decent. Based in large part on the positive vibes that you exude. I trust you. More and more. Every day. Even when we disagree on this and that. It’s a nice feeling. When you make my day. That’s the way human relationships should be. You aren’t my clone. Good reason to like you. That’s a high compliment, you know. --Jim Broede

No need to rule out anything.

I’m not afraid to live outside of America. Whether it be in Europe or Australia or New Zealand  or Canada or Scandinavia. The potential for the pursuit of happiness and the good life is almost boundless. No matter where. One doesn’t have to be in America. To achieve one’s dreams. Starting life all over, I’d probably pick a remote place. Off the beaten track. Maybe on another habitable planet. In a distant galaxy. I’m an optimist. It might well happen. In a reincarnation. No need to rule out anything. --Jim Broede

My new-found best friends.

Most people who disagree with me. On a variety of topics. From politics to religion to life in general. Are pretty decent people. Decent enough for us to be friends. Turns out. That when we talk and listen to each other, we aren’t that far apart. Little wonder that we often become friends. Really, it’s the decent thing to do. But we have been taught and programmed. To be enemies. That goes against my religious upbringing. To love thy enemies. Initially, I thought that was asinine advice. Instead, I hated and detested and distrusted my so-called enemies. Until I got to know them. Intimately. Sure, I learned they were different. Not my clone. Turns out. I found that it’s more difficult to love my clone. Than it is to love an enemy and making him a friend. Finally. Finally. I understood. We were stimulating each other. Because of our differences. We got each other to think. About the alternatives. About life’s many, many options. We made each other better (and more decent) human beings. One by one by one. My enemies are becoming my best friends. --Jim Broede

Time to act decently.

Obamacare isn’t perfect. It needs fixing. But it’s a step in the right direction. To an eventual single payer system. Perhaps Medicare for all. Universal health care.  Socialized medicine. Call it what you will. Just like the medical care I got in Italy. And I’d get in Germany and France, too. If it’s good enough for the Italians, the French and the Germans, it’s good enough for me. It comes close to being good enough for everyone. Let’s put a plan together. That has support of both Democrats and Republicans.  A plan that serves the common good. Let’s finally learn to walk hand in hand. Together. We’re all in this world together. Let’s start acting like decent, civilized human beings. --Jim Broede

Until it was too late.

I felt foolish. Embarrassed. Being loaded into an ambulance. Jan. 30. For a ride to a hospital. Merely because I was a little woozy. For no apparent reason. They told me. Better safe than sorry. The next day. I was released. Without any firm diagnosis. They thought maybe it was dehydration. For having walked 5 miles. Or it could have been a TIA (A precursor to a future stroke) There was no direct evidence for either theory. Anyway, my hospital bill. For that one-day experience. And tests that included an MRI and a cat scan. Was $19,108.  Maybe that should have been enough to frighten me to death. But it wasn’t. And on hindsight. I have reason to be thankful. That I went to the hospital. Anyway, my government-provided  Medicare  insurance and a private supplemental insurance  policy. Covered everything. It’s the type of coverage every American deserves. Even the poor. Yes, universal health care. Also known as socialized medicine. Should be a guaranteed right. For everyone. That’s the way I see it. I deserve no more or no less than what I am getting. Full and affordable coverage I want the same for the rest of you. When I was in Italy several years ago, I checked into an Italian hospital emergency room. For what proved to be a silent angina attack. Spent 8 days in the hospital. Had angioplasty. A procedure that opens  blocked or narrowed  arteries and restores normal blood flow to the heart muscle. It is not major surgery. It is done by threading a catheter (thin tube) through a small puncture in a leg or arm artery to the heart. The blocked artery is opened by inflating a tiny balloon in it. Sure beats open heart surgery. Anyway, my total bill. In Italy. For the entire experience. Medical and hospital. Was less than $7,000. Italy has universal health care. Like most other European countries. Medical care provided to everyone. At cost. Not for profit. Because affordable and proper health care is a human right. Regardless of income. I’m not an Italian citizen. Only a visitor. Living part of the year with my Italian amore. I paid the bill. Out of my pocket. And eventually got reimbursed 80 percent. By my private health insurance. Meanwhile, imagine what the bill would have been. If I had entered an American hospital. For 8 days. For the exact same kind of medical care. I’m told it would have been in the six figures. Over $100,000. Because we Americans get ripped off. By the profiteers in the health care industry.  That’s why certain politicians want to repeal so-called Obamacare. Despite the fact that 24 million Americans will lose their health insurance. That’s the hard facts of life, folks. In dear old America. My shameful homeland. To tell the truth, I often feel more at home in Italy and Europe. Where they have universal health care. Doctors and other health care workers make less. Because profiteers are steered  away. But hey, my friends in Europe have an easier time. Living with their consciences.   By the way, I am happy that I hitched the ambulance ride to the American hospital. Turns out that an MRI showed a narrowing in one of my carotid arteries. I went in last week. To get it fixed. If not for that check up, I’d be in mortal danger of a stroke. Without knowing it. Until it was too late. --Jim Broede

Let me stay awake, please.

My biggest concern. When I went in for surgery. On my left carotid artery. Was being anesthetized. t was knocked out. For two hours. I’d rather have stayed awake. With the benefit of a local anesthesia that deadens feeling in my neck. Even if I have to endure some degree of pain. And watch the bloody  slitting of my precious neck.  In order to reach my equally precious carotid. No surprise. Most physician, if not all,  prefer  general anesthesia. It’s more convenient and less cumbersome to have an unconscious patient. That includes my highly competent vascular surgeon.  My fear of anesthesia  dates to when I was a screaming 5-year-old.  Having a tonsillectomy.  They placed a mask over my terror-stricken face. And pumped in foul-smelling ether. Of course, now they have more sophisticated ways to administer anesthesia. With an IV. And promises of a drifting off to Paradise.  But that doesn’t make me any less leery of modern day anesthesia.  Maybe they have long-term negative side effects. Triggering dementia. Better to be safe than sorry. Wife Jeanne, who died nine years ago of Alzheimer’s, had two hip replacement surgeries. In a six-month period. Her dementia came on then. If I ever have a hip replacement. I’ll stay awake. To watch and to offer surgical advice --Jim

Is that too simple?

I’m naïve. Because I’m of a mind. That  it’s reasonable. For Republicans and  Democrats. To sit down. And compromise over a health care bill. That satisfies both sides. And most of America. Just do it. It’s not impossible. Certainly not as hard as walking on water. Blend the best ideas of both political parties. Into a workable bill. That will win plaudits.  From most everyone.  Believe me. Where there’s a will, there’s always a way. Life is that simple.  I’m a simpleton. An advocate for simple solutions. That make everyone happy. It works every time. In my Simpleton Paradise. Where I’ve spent several days. Getting a simple but amazing procedure. The cleaning out of my left carotid artery. Thereby, diminishing chances  of a stroke. Of course, it helped that I had Medicare and supplemental insurance. Covering the entire cost. I’m for similar coverage for every American. Or is that too simple? --Jim Broede

Better to postpone judgment.

I can think of some very bad people.  But if I was pushed. And had to say something nice about them.  I could. Because I’m convinced. That everyone has some redeeming qualities. Even the devil himself. Underneath, he could be a decent guy. If one really got to know him. Thing is. We really don’t get to know very many people.  Intimately.   Instead, we are in a hurry to form biased opinions. Often based on unverified gossip. We don’t give people we distrust a fair hearing. An opportunity to explain themselves. Yes, it’s better to wait. Before passing judgment. --Jim Broede

A hypnotic solution.

f I ran for president. Now that’s an absurd thought, isn’t it? But hey, I’d do a better job than Donald Trump. Because I’d become a peacemaker. Not a divider. I’d bring feuding sides together. By advocating peace and harmony. Of course, I’d cultivate the art of hypnotism. I’d hypnotize everyone. To follow me. To Paradise. On Earth. So simple. A hypnotic solution to all of our problems --Jim Broede

When time becomes no more.

I'd like to put in a request to the creator. To slow down time. To make an hour last for a year. I’m told that the creator can do any and every thing. To even live outside of time. But for starters, I’d settle for slowing time to a crawl. That would give me time to negotiate an even better deal. Yes, I need time. All the time that I can get. That guy, Methuselah, got 900 and some years. Incredible. Makes me wonder if he had an ‘in’ with the creator. Time, I suppose, is a relative thing. Maybe it applies only to the physical world. Makes me wonder. If one ascends to the spiritual realm, does time stop? Is that the definition of forever? When time becomes no more. --Jim Broede

Worth a try.

There are better ways to send a message. Than stuffing it in a bottle. And taking a chance. That it’ll ever be delivered. Using the archaic Italian postal system is another way to lose a message.  Lately, I’ve modernized. And turned to email. But I’m giving strong consideration. To using carrier pigeons. It's worth a try. --Jim Broede

Particular me.

I do and don’t like to be busy. Depends on the situation. And my mood. Maybe what I’m saying. Is that I differentiate. Between busy. And too busy. Sometimes, I’m overwhelmed by the activity in my life. That’s too busy.  But if I’m simply occupied. And flowing smoothly. That’s the ideal. And generally what I aim for. I have plenty of friends and acquaintances. Who gripe. About having too much to do. Of course, I suggest that they alter their schedules. And slow down. Life was meant to be pursued at either a slow or moderate pace. Not in a hurry. Yes, I’m for speed limits. Setting time aside. For smelling the daisies and petunias.  And not too much time sniffing the roses. Goes to show. I’m particular. --Jim Broede

A blessed life-giving spirit.

When the outside world turns hostile. It’s time to discover the inner realm. The spiritual. Deep into one’s soul.  One’s interior life becomes a refuge. An oasis. A place for sustenance. For survival. I suspect. That’s where one reaches his creator. Where one dares to follow his instincts. And surrenders his mind. To the spirit. It’s an interesting concept. That captures my imagination. I surrender. I let go. And learn to savor my being. My true essence.  I acknowledge where I have come from. And where I am going.  I allow myself to be consumed. By the blessed spirit.  That gives me life. Without it, I would be no more. --Jim Broede

A great monastery. In the sky.

Seems to me, we are going through a period of being rude and nasty and vindictive.  Certainly, that’s the case on the political scene. Maybe it’s my imagination. But I’m picking up mean-spirited vibes. Not here in musings. But elsewhere. In everyday walks of life. People seem more hostile and unsettled than usual. I’m watching. From the sidelines. An observer. Trying to avoid the skirmishes. Because I want peace and tranquility in my life. Yes, I’m trying to be selfish.  Doing what’s best for me. In an increasingly hostile world. Maybe that’s why I am in pursuit of the spiritual. No. No. Not religion. But the spiritual. Because religion seems to have been contaminated. Spoiled. By the bad vibes. Creeping across the land. Therefore, my escape. Is into the spiritual realm. Looking for safety. In a great monastery. In the sky.   --Jim

Really, I've found my touch.

Used to be that I was a rabble-rouser. Fomenting controversy. Just for the sake of bringing out the rabble. For entertainment purposes. But now I’ve reformed. Mellowed, so to speak. I’d rather bring people together. To solve political, social and economic problems. In constructive ways. Getting people to cooperate with each other. Even when they have sharp differences on the issues. Most problems can be solved, it seems to me. When there’s mutual respect. And a willingness to be fair to each other.  And an honest attempt to see the other side. Especially on controversial issues.  Yes, I’d rather be a peacemaker than a rabble-rouser. Makes me wonder. if I’ve lost my touch.  Or simply wised up. --Jim Broede

A pretty shoddy job.

Too bad, Andy, that we always seem to need winners and losers. In the skirmishes in politics and life. I’m for finding ways to create more so-called win-win situations. Where both sides feel they’ve won something. They’ve learned to accommodate each other. They’ve learned the art of give and take. Not necessarily a total win. Or not a total loss.  Where we walk away as friends. Rather than enemies. Am I being too much of an idealist? A Pollyanna? I believe in diplomacy.  As an alternative to war. Let’s talk to each other. And to listen to each other. Truly talk. Truly listen. By the way, isn’t it a Christian virtue? To love thy enemy. Seems to me that both Trump and Obama are professed Christians.  Do they come close to loving each other? Does one come closer than the other? Does it matter? Seems to me that in the realm of politics, there’s no such thing as true love. It’s a game of selfishness. Not played for the common good. Maybe that’s the story of life . Too many of us out for ourselves.  A game of distinct winners and distinct losers. I don’t like it. Let’s create a winning civilization. Out of this cosmos. That the creator has given us. We are doing a pretty shoddy job of it. --Jim Broede

A fair-minded creator.

Fair is fair. I want everyone saved. Muslims, Jews, Buddhists. All sorts of so-called non-believers.  I want a fair-minded creator. One that practices what he preaches. Forgiveness. And pure love. Is that asking too much?  --Jim Broede

Tell me, please. It ain't true.

A living nightmare. I’m better to fall asleep. And hope for a sweet dream. To replace the nightmarish reality I’m experiencing in my waking hours. I need relief. A respite from my on-going, fully-conscious nightmare.  It’s driving me crazy. Don’t know how much longer I can endure it. My heart is pounding. I’m scared. Yes, it’s possible.  I could die of fright.  Tell me. Tell me, please. That Donald Trump isn’t our president.  --Jim Broede

A message in a bottle.

To think. Is to discipline one’s self. To practice. Being alive. I can’t think of a better thing to do. At 4 o’clock in the morning. Oh, I could go back to bed   And fall asleep. But I’d rather have fun. Occupying my mind. With thought.  About anything. To prove. To myself. That I am alive. And I am showing you, too. With the written word. At this very moment. As you read these words. I have lured you in. To my brief message. In a bottle. Now it’s your turn. To stuff a note. Into the bottle. And launch it. In the current. For the random chance.  Of discovery. That’s how it happened. Almost nine years ago. When my Italian amore and I. Discovered each other. Yes, some things are meant to be. Such as messages. Found in a bottle. Yes. Yes. Life is amazing. --Jim Broede

Drifting. All the way to Paradise.

It’s so important. To like what one is doing. The way one is living. That’s rarely been a problem. For me. I’m comfortable with myself. I like me. But I know people who don’t like themselves. And they don’t always know what to do about it. They feel trapped. In their own skins. That’s sad. As for me, I have a compulsion to be happy. I refuse to live any other way. Than in avid pursuit of happiness. With my mind. My soul. Everything. I especially need to be happy. When going to bed. As I fall asleep. I hypnotize myself. With soothing thoughts. Drifting. Drifting . All the way to Paradise. --Jim Broede

It's called love.

 I presume that many Christians keep asking themselves: What would Jesus do in any given situation? Of course, one doesn’t need be a Christian to pose such a query. I’ve  often asked. With surprising and gratifying results. Learning that Jesus, much like the creator himself, is one of the guys. One wouldn’t hesitate sitting down with him. And having a beer. Or a glass of wine. I’ve often imagined a conversation with Jesus. It felt so real. And enlightening. He’s guided me. To where I am today. A romantic idealist. A spiritual free-thinker. A political liberal. A lover. A dreamer. He keeps telling me. That there are many ways to the truth. Seek and ye shall find. And this is what I’ve found. I’m comfortable with being a free-lancer. Maybe as comfortable as a fundamentalist Christian. Jesus seems to think that we are both right. In our own unique ways. He wants us to learn to respect each other. It’s called love. –Jim Broede

Let's make it happen.

I’m for the common good. For universal health care. Right here in the U.S. A single payer system. Run much like Medicare. Covering every man, woman and child. But it won’t happen. Because that’s construed by the ill-informed as abhorrent socialism. Not by me, however. I love socialism. Including social security and Medicare and public education.  Socialism is designed for the common good. But too many of our political decision makers prefer catering  to special interests. And the common good be damned. That’s the way it is. I don’t like the political climate. But then, I’m lucky and fortunate. To be 81. Thereby qualifying me for Medicare. Also, I can afford private insurance to supplement Medicare. I’m safe and secure. So are the politicians in Washington. They qualify for deluxe health insurance. I’m of a mind that everyone deserves health insurance. Even those who can’t afford it.  It’s the responsibility of government to make it happen. Yes, serving the common good. It’s the right thing to do. --Jim Broede

Steering clear of Hell.

Yes. I confess. I visit Hell. Occasionally. But knowing. It’s only brief visits. I’m free to leave. At any time. I’d be crazy. If I stayed for long. I go. Primarily to remind myself. That Hell is a hellish place to be. I know people who live in Hell. Full-time. In lifelong depression. I’d not want to live with certain people. Because that would be a living Hell. Donald Trump, for instance. Better to live with the devil. Anyway, it’s real easy.  Steering clear of Hell. I prefer Paradise. Where I live most of the time. --Jim Broede

Meaningful thought.

Maybe people clam up. Because they don’t know what they truly believe. And they are afraid to find out. Afraid to venture into the unknown. So they choose not to face up. To a personal truth. They would rather dwell on mundane matters. And go through life. As if on a meaningless journey. Avoiding the pertinent questions. About one’s own existence. Instead, they allow others to define them. But I’ve always felt. That I must define myself. By digging deeper and deeper and deeper. By putting words together. Into meaningful thought. --Jim Broede

It's very therapeutic.

I like to talk. About any and every thing. No subject is taboo. But I’m finding increasing numbers of people who don’t want to talk about politics and religion. For a variety of reasons. Too personal. Too bothersome. Too annoying. I’m not bothered. Because I’m fascinated.  By religion. By politics. I could get up on stage. And talk endlessly. About virtually any subject. In an entertaining way. Especially about personal stuff. And the funny side of life. Little wonder. That I like to muse. It comes naturally. Off the top of my head. Sometimes without forethought. I draw the subject up. Out of my subconscious mind. Indeed, it’s very therapeutic. I recommend it. --Jim Broede

One of us.

I’d hate to think that the creator saves only self-professed Christians. That leaves out Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus. Seems to me that wouldn’t be fair. And what about the trillions of other non-Christians on other planets in the infinite cosmos? And what about the others on Planet Earth, that lived and died before Christianity came into vogue? Pardon me. If I’m an optimist. And a positive thinker. Who believes in a kindly, compassionate, loving creator. Who saves everyone. Even our pets.  That’s the divine world I want to live in. Yes, that’s something worth believing in. My creator gives little credence to exclusive clubs. With rigid requirements for joining up. There are lots of nice and decent and worthy people in this world. Who aren’t Christians. But who live more noble lives than many Christians. They aren’t banned. Just because they didn’t take a pledge to Jesus as savior. Nothing wrong with taking the pledge. But there are other options. So very many religions. Living life itself is a religion. Takes a lot of faith to get through life. To feel the pulse beat of creation. That’s enough. That’s what my creator tells me. And I believe him. And please believe me. He’s a darn good guy. He's one of us. --Jim Broede

One of the guys.

I wish for perfection. Knowing it will never be achieved. And then I ask myself, why wish for the impossible? Settle for something less. Such as the possible. Something more realistic. And that’s what I really do. I only dream of perfection. I exercise my imagination. I fantasize. That’s good enough for me. I want to be on equal footing with my creator. More than an acquaintance. Nothing short of friendship. I want to be able to sit down and talk to him. About life. About philosophy. About politics. About love. About everything. I want us to be buddies. Able to sit down and have a beer. Together. True camaraderie. I want us to be living on the same plateau. I know. I know. Some religions tell me. There must be a respectful separation. That I must be subservient.  And worship the creator. But I don’t think he wants that. He’d rather that we think of him as one of the guys. Imperfect. Just like the rest of us.  --Jim Broede

A two-way street.

Used to be. That I looked with complete disdain. On people who didn’t share my views on political, social and economic matters. That was a long time ago. Before I learned to respect. Just about anyone. Even if they voted for Donald Trump. Yes, I owe respect.  Even to terrorists. Even to white supremacists. Even to Republicans. Yes, even to so-called scumbags. Of course, it’s one thing to mouth open-mindedness. Another to live it. To practice what one preaches.  I confess. I don’t always reach my goal. Perfection eludes me. Always has. Always will. Let’s put it this way. I’ve edged from complete distain. To moderate disdain. I’ll listen to anyone. I’ll try to grasp where they are coming from. Without necessarily accepting their premises. Meanwhile, it would be nice. If they backed away from total disdain of me. And listened, too. True understanding, after all, is a two-way street. It takes work. To keep an open mind. --Jim Broede

A vibrant conversation.

I talk to my beloved cat, Marcello. As if he understands English. He looks like he’s listening. And trying to grasp what I’m saying. And maybe he does. By a magical form of mindful thought transfer. He’s catching my vibes. And I’m catching his. I sense it. Yes, we have a vibrant conversation. We trust each other. Might be true love. --Jim Broede

A simple choice.

My guess. Is that we choose our own Hell. On a daily basis. If we so wish. It’s up to us. Individually. To decide whether today will be a venture into Paradise. Or into Hell. If I decide to focus on having Donald Trump as our president, it’s going to be a hellish day .If, instead, I’m riveted on my Italian amore Cristina. Which I am doing. I will have arrived in Paradise. A simple choice. I’d have to be crazy to go to Hell. --Jim Broede