Thriving. On the oddities.

Tomorrow is the first of May. And it’s supposed to snow. Here in Minnesota. Can that be? The average temperature for this time of year is 65 degrees. For snow to come. It’s gotta be 30 degrees below normal. But you know what? I don’t mind. I like out-of-the-ordinary stuff. Something unusual. Freaks of nature. I’ll make the best of it. Even a blizzard. In May. Indeed, that would be memorable.  I thrive. On the oddities of life. --Jim Broede

Teach me, please.

Occasionally, I lose track of time. I construe that as a good thing. Obviously, at that moment, I’m absorbed in thought and activity. Time becomes irrelevant. I suddenly realize that it’s 3 in the morning. And I haven’t gone to bed. I’ve fallen off my time-oriented routine. In order to live life. Properly. With no concern for time. But then, I begin to ponder. The relevance of time. In our lives. We live on a schedule. Doing this and that at precise times. Yes, regimented lives. Awful, isn’t it? I’m told that the creator lives outside of time. Makes me wonder. How he does it. I wish he’d teach me. --Jim Broede

No more hesitation.

Always. There’s stuff going wrong. And stuff going right. That’s the nature of life. It isn’t a continuous smooth journey. But I have the option. To put my primary focus on the right stuff. Yes, to steer myself. To the good side. And away from the bad side. I have a friend. Haunted by the bad stuff. She can’t let it go. Without a struggle. More often than not. She loses the battle. Wrecks her day. An entire week. A month. Maybe her entire life. I coach her. Tell her what I do. By taking charge of life. Setting an example. But only she can take control of her life. Nobody can do it for her. I can’t intercede. No matter how hard I try. Wish I could. She has to do it. From within. I can enter only my being. Not hers. I can try to persuade her. With words. To take up the cudgel. But ultimately, it’s her decision. Her's alone. To make the move. To happiness. To the precious good life. That’s my message. Go to it. Take  charge. No more hesitation. --Jim Broede

The poetry of soulful life.

A mind. Is supposed to be full of thoughts.  Obvious thought. Trivial thought. Profound thought.  Clever thought. Hidden thought. Yes, the full gamut. My mission, of course, is to corral my thoughts. To pick them up. One at a time. For careful examination. For linking. Into a chain of thought. Helping me. As I ponder and muse. In an attempt to discover my being. Today is special. Having set into motion. The thoughtful poetry of soulful life. --Jim Broede

A search for significance.

I’m insignificant. But still, I pretend that I’m significant. Because that makes me feel better. About myself. That’s one of the nice things about life. The ability to glamorize. To make of life. Whatever one will. Of course, it really doesn’t matter. In the grand scheme of things. If I’m a mere grain of sand. On a sprawling beach. Wouldn’t matter if there was one less grain. Nobody would notice. But maybe the grain is aware of the ocean. And the vast beyond. Wow! That’s far more significant. Than being an oblivious grain of sand. --Jim Broede

Let's give him the boot.

I’d hate to have lived in Nazi Germany or Stalinist Russia. Or to be in Assad’s Syria. Or almost anywhere in the Middle East. Meanwhile, I’m increasingly uncomfortable. Living in Donald Trump’s America. I don’t like the direction in which we are headed. Can’t say yet that it’s as bad as several other places in the modern world. But one thing is for sure. Trump’s America is not the best place to be. There are better locales. At least from my admittedly warped perspective. I’m uneasy about the future. And about the existing political climate. That brought Trump to power. Am I wrong, folks, for feeling this apprehensive? My dear friend Rosie.  And my sister Babs. Have both latched on to the Trumpian wave. They support Trump. Without reservation. No qualms.  They voted for him in November. And they say they'd do it again. That's scary. Wish it weren’t so. But they steadfastly proclaim. That it’s thrilling. To go with the current political flow. They swear allegiance to Donald Trump. They say he will make America great again. They urge me to give  him a chance. Please. Please. Instead. Let's give him the royal  boot.  --Jim Broede

The right side of human decency.

I find pleasure. In spouting off. Over stuff that I can’t control. For instance. I can’t do anything about political outcomes. I am compelled to accept the fact that Donald Trump is president. But nothing stops me. From complaining. From protesting. From expressing my displeasure. That is precisely what gives me pleasure. To put into words. My disdain for Trump. It gives me a sense of freedom. Yes, I’m thankful for freedom of speech. I can bellyache about Trump. Poke fun at him. Hurl insults. In much the same manner as Trump himself. Of course, I also have the option to ignore Trump. Pretending that he doesn’t exist. But I find that difficult. It’s easier to do what I’m doing now. Taking pleasure. And pride. For knowing. That I have sense enough. To oppose Trump. With my heart and soul. Puts me on the right side of human decency. --Jim Broede

A tidal wave of love.

Consensus. That’s what I’m for. Divided political factions.  Getting together. To work things out. By consensus.  Yes, Democrats and Republicans. Liberals and conservatives. Learning to respect each other. Enough. To achieve peace and harmony. And to solve problems. For the good of the country. Rather than for the good of a particular political party. Yes, let the commonweal prevail. That’s the spirit I want to see.  More cooperation.  Less political bickering. Let’s pretend we’re friends. Rather than enemies. Maybe we’ll start believing in each other.  Now I see a divided nation. It makes no sense. It could lead to a civil war. In which both sides become losers. By destroying each other. Give me a dose of sanity. And goodwill. That’s what I have now. In my individual, one-on-one relationships. I have no enemies. Only friends. Ever since I adopted the credo to love my enemies. That’s all it took. Love. Love. And more love. I am awash with love. Swept away in a tidal wave of love. --Jim Broede

A world-class dreamer.

I like feeling tired.  It’s a signal. For me to go to bed. And sleep. Even if I weren’t tired. I’d still go to bed. And read a book. Until I fall asleep.  Not because the book is boring. But because I’m relaxed. Enough to become mesmerized. And that invariably opens the door to dreamland. Makes me wonder. If I start dreaming. Even before I fall asleep. Could be. That gives me a sense that I can suggest the topic of my dream. Better that than risking a nightmare. Come to think of it, I haven’t had a nightmare. For a long, long time. Only sweet and pleasant dreams. Maybe that’s why I don’t mind feeling tired. It creates the opportunity to become a world-class dreamer. --Jim Broede

In a better world.

I don’t want to believe. What I’m seeing. The drift of the world. Into utter chaos. Politically. Every nation for itself. Nationalist movements galore. Everywhere.  America first. Britain first. France first. Russia first. Iran first. North Korea first. It’s an attitude. Let’s all go our independent ways. And to hell with the commonweal.  Yes, that scares me. I’m watching the disintegration of the world. Abandonment of the commonweal. Destruction for the sake of destruction. To be replaced by a new world order. Which really, is a return to the old, old world order. When nations fought each other.  Waged war. To protect their selfish interests. Of course, maybe I am getting it all wrong. And it’s more evolution than revolution. But hey, I feel as if this isn’t America any more. And now all that’s left. Is the waiting. For the inevitable. Waiting to die. That may be all that’s left. The next big event in my solitary life. Oh, I’m not expecting to die all that soon. I still have time left.  The opportunity for more precious moments.  I feel good. Physically. Mentally, too. But I wonder. About my emotions. And the state of the world. I’m 81. No doubt, I’ve lived the vast majority of my wonderful life. Pleased that I’ve lasted this long. But not quite so pleased with the state of the world.. All the more reason. To focus on the spiritual domain. In a better world. To come. Not here on planet Earth, of course. But in my carefully constructed Paradise. --Jim Broede

Reason to lament.

I don’t hesitate taking tentative positions. On all sorts of controversial political, economic and social matters. Yes, right from the start. Long before I have all the facts. I allow myself. To form temporary opinions. ln the embryo stage of thought. Trying to keep an open mind. While listening to others. Admitting that I may be wrong. Because I may never have all the facts. But it’s necessary to proceed. To take a stand.  Because it’s time to make a decision. For which I may be later sorry. That’s life. It isn’t perfect. Therefore, I am entitled to making mistakes. That can be corrected. Eventually. Yes, I recognize. That I’m mostly in a state of flux. In that respect. I might make an ideal politician. I’m open to review. I’m capable of shifting my position. Especially if the issue can be resolved. By the lost art of compromise.  Yes, I recognize that accommodation (compromise)  is a dirty word. In modern day politics. There’s no room for movement. Indeed, that’s very, very sad. Reason for me and everyone to lament. --Jim Broede

My manipulated imagination.

Yes. Yes. We are cleverly manipulated. By master manipulators. They study us. Our habits. Our inclinations. They know how to manipulate us. To buy certain products. To vote for certain candidates. To think in certain ways. Without us consciously knowing. That we are being manipulated. I meet people who have been manipulated. Walking, talking zombies. The living dead. Going through the motions. Of living. But they are as dead as door nails. Tell me I’m wrong, dear folks. That I’m being carried away. By my imagination. Oh, yes. Quite likely. By my manipulated imagination.--Jim Broede

My last-ditch plea.

I wonder. If I should keep asking questions. About what to do next. Or should I merely lean back. And let life evolve. Willy-nilly.  Maybe I ask too many questions. Maybe it’s best to put life on cruise-control. On auto-pilot. Not take personal control anymore. I’m told that’s the wave of the future.  Automated cars. We don’t have to do the driving. A computer does it for us. We punch in our destination. And off we go. Trusting the latest new technology. To live our lives for us. I’m afraid. That’s what we are coming to. Making life too convenient. Yes, I’m suggesting. That I be purposely  inconvenienced. So that I have to make my own decisions. Otherwise, I may evolve into a robot. Programmed by the technocrats. That’s why and how we elected Donald Trump as president. There’s no other explanation.  We’re out of our minds.  We aren’t doing our own thinking. We are being guided. By remote control. My last ditch plea to the creator.  Please. Please. Save us. From the modern world. From ourselves. --Jim Broede

Time will tell.

Fear. Fear. That’s what I sense. Is taking over the world. Fear. Fear. Lack of confidence in our political systems. We have lost faith in democracy.  Therefore, we have allowed an autocrat, namely Donald Trump, to come to power. Maybe that would be all right. If Trump was a political genius and a decent human being. But Trump is an outlandish know-nothing egomaniac. As are so many autocrats. Unfortunately, a fearful know-nothing element of the electorate was willing to take a chance. Duped. Into believing a pompous know-nothing really knew something. And we are stuck. For four painful, excruciating years. With a know-nothing nincompoop. That’s the way I see it, folks. Hope I'm wrong. And that I’m the know nothing ignoramus. Time will tell. --Jim Broede

To grand and glorious use.

Often. I take time out. To think. To think about any and everything. No subject is taboo. I can’t think of a better activity. Than to think. About the wonders of life. Maybe that’s the purpose of life. To think. In an effort to figure it out.  And even if I don’t come up with the answers. That’s all right. I’m still doing what I’m supposed to. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking. That’s why I’ve been given. A mind. A soul. To put it all. To grand and glorious use. --Jim Broede

Patience. Along the way.

Always. Good times have followed bad times. Makes me wonder. If that will be the pattern. Forever.  Wonder, too, if that’s been the pattern for the rest of you. Does life always get better?  Sooner or later. Tell me. Tell me, please. About your experience. Has it been the same as mine? I have yet to experience life getting worse and worse and worse. Without stop. Without let up.  The worst of times always pass. That gives me comfort. Patience. Patience. Yes, I have learned patience. Along the way. --Jim Broede

My full-time pursuit.

Believe me, everyone, when I say it’s a blessing to live long enough to retire. And still be in good health. Turns out, I’m more active as a retiree than when employed. The difference. What I’m doing is mostly pure pleasure.  Doing what I want to do. I write every day. I walk every day. More so than ever before. I read. Keep myself informed. Pretty much do as I please. I have time to think. Positively. About life. And retirement also gave me the time needed to become dear Jeanne’s care-giver. Right up to the end. Followed by the opportunity to get on with life. In a wonderful manner. The Alzheimer experience was only a blip in time. But I learned so much. About being a decent human being. Yes, there’s a reward. For surviving a difficult time. Another lesson. In how to cherish and appreciate life. That’s become my full-time pursuit. In retirement. --Jim Broede

The slow, gradual discovery.

I like to express my thoughts. Out loud. In musings. Most people, I surmise, are reluctant to say what’s on their mind. They may even be afraid to tell themselves. Every thought. I don’t hesitate to say what’s on my mind. To be open. And above board. To venture naked into the world. I have nothing to hide. It’s that simple. If someone asks me a question. About virtually anything. I’ll answer. Sometimes in a silly and not too serious way. But always with some degree of honesty. I always get around. To expressing what’s at the core of my being. Sometimes in subtle ways. Because I want others to think. Long and hard. To reach for the truth. About everything. I acknowledge. That there’s so much that I don’t know. But that’s the most thrilling part of life. The slow, gradual discovery of what life is all about. --Jim Broede

Make room for me.

I wonder. Why anyone chooses a career in politics. Is there a motivating force? I’m fascinated by politics. But I know enough. To steer  clear of politicians. Yet I have met many politicians. Because I covered local politics. In my job. As a writer. For newspapers. I originally thought about becoming a sportswriter. And maybe I did. After all, politics resembles a sporting event. It’s a game to be played. In which there are winners and losers. For that matter. Maybe life is a game. We are all playing games. Of one sort or another. We are competing against each other. That’s the nature of capitalism. Survival of the fittest. To the victor comes the spoils. That’s the story of our hero. The president. He does as he pleases. He calls his rivals losers. Says some of ‘em should be put in jail. He’s full of bombast. He considers himself a winner. But I look at him as a loser. Yes. In the grand scheme of life.  I’m the real winner. Move over, Donald Trump. Make room for me. --Jim Broede

To stay true to myself.

 I have to create my own life. Without going astray. It’s wrong to think I have a responsibility  to work for the societal or common (collective) good. Really, my goal should be to pursue happiness. Tailored for me. Not necessarily for others. After all, happiness is a personal thing. What makes me happy may not make others happy. I’m a lone wolf.  With my own needs. Living in a strange and sometimes antagonistic world. I have my own politics and religion. I’m independent. And don’t necessarily want to be subservient to societal rules. I can easily be my own man. If I’m allowed to. So far, it’s worked. Magnificently. Of course, I’ve had to put up a fight. Sometimes on a daily basis. To stay true to myself. --Jim Broede

Laughing. At weird thoughts.

My care-giving days are behind me. That’s the way I like it. I adjusted. And became a good care-giver. Eventually. That’s a good thing. Having learned to enjoy the experience. And appreciating being the care-giver. Rather than the recipient. In my ideal world. I’ll never need care. From others. I’ll be able to care for myself. Yes, there’s a practical advantage in a quick and sudden death. No lingering. Here one minute. Gone the next. I could adjust to being a care-giver again. If I had to. Carrying out an act of love. That’s the relative easy role. If I were the one that needed care. That would be difficult. Almost intolerable. Having to rely on another. The loss of independence. Anyway, I don’t fret about it. Because I still have control over my life. No sense in worrying about the future. Better to savor today. Getting the most out of life. By laughing. At my weird thoughts. --Jim Broede

My turn to be humble.

I can choose. Whether to let stuff bother me. Occasionally, I go several days . Without being bothered by anything.  And then, when I am finally bothered. Turns out that it was over trivial stuff. And I really didn’t have to be bothered. For instance. For the last three days, I’ve been bothered by the Chicago Cubs. Being swept in three straight games. By the Pittsburgh Pirates. Hey, that’s not supposed to happen.  Consider. Last season the Cubs played Pittsburgh 18 times. And won 14 of the games. Lost only 4. The Pirates are supposed to be patsies. It bothers me. Very much. That the baseball gods. May have decided on a role reversal. And it’ll be the Cubs playing patsy. This season. As the price the Cubs must pay. For being allowed to win the World Series last year. But I’ve been spoiled. I want the Cubs to build a dynasty. And to win the World Series. Again and again and again. Yes, I have become greedy. Therefore, the baseball gods are telling me. It’s my turn. To be humble and contrite. --Jim Broede

Unafraid.

Being able to think. To comprehend. To make sense of life. To find meaning. That’s why I am compelled. To muse. Doesn’t matter where I am at the moment. Or where I am going.  More important. That I am able to think. To comprehend. To make sense of life. To find meaning. While in perpetual motion. Never at the same place. So many others have to be at a fixed place. Always knowing where they are. They want solid ground. On which to stand. I prefer going beyond the horizon. Into another world. For the sake of discovering. The unknown.  Unafraid. --Jim Broede

More proof. That I am alive.

I write. Every day. Never miss a day. Of writing. Something or other.  Same goes for walking. I walk every day. I write. And I walk. I can do both. By myself. Don’t need or want any help. These are pastimes. That I pursue. Alone. Some days. That’s all I do. Write and walk. Of course, I also think. More proof. That I am alive.--Jim Broede

I need to wake up. Soon.

I wonder. If there will be a World War III some day. Seems that Donald Trump is in the mood for war. He’s willing to push us to the brink.  In an effort to ‘make America great again.’  And he wins plaudits. From his supporters. Every time that he talks tough. And fires off missiles and drops the ‘mother of all bombs.’  Believe me. He doesn’t need any encouragement to turn the planet into a living Hell. Maybe it’s my imagination. Or just a nightmare. I need to wake up. Soon. --Jim Broede

You gotta have faith.

I have faith.  In my true loves. In the Chicago Cubs. And me. Oh, I could list several other things. If pressed. I have faith, for instance. That there will be a tomorrow. And that someday. Donald Trump will no longer be president. Yes. Give it time. And all issues will be resolved. We’ll all end up in a perfect and idyllic realm. --Jim Broede

Good enough for now.

I tend to believe what I want to believe. About the nature and essence of life. That includes the stuff that can ‘t be proved one way or another. Beyond a reasonable doubt. Such as spiritual and religious matters. Requiring some degree of faith. Therefore, it makes sense to believe what I truly want to believe.  Because that will make me happy. And content. At peace with myself. That’s why I believe in a holy spirit.  And not in any particular religion. It’s so much easier believing in the invisible spirit. Because I can feel the spirit. From within my being. I sense it.  Yes, it could be as simple as merely wanting to sense positive and thrilling vibes. Emitted directly to me. To help me understand something beyond my intellectual grasp. Yes, I’m being constantly nudged. Used to be that I needed absolute proof. To believe anything. But then I came around to believing whatever comes naturally. It amounts to having faith in myself. In my inner being. In my soul, so to speak. Otherwise, I would not have all the answers. And that’s what I want most. All the answers. That fit neatly. Into a package. Yes, that’s good enough for now. --Jim Broede

Unbelievable. But true.

I’m learning to be entertained. By the stuff beyond my control. Such as the Trump presidency. It’s so unpredictable. Keeps me guessing. And laughing, too. That something could be so funny. Of course, it could be tragic, too. And I might start crying. But for now, it’s laugh after laugh after laugh. That a presidency could be so ridiculous. The comedians are having a field day. For them, Trump is a gift from Nirvana. He’s absolutely unbelievable. Not only because he’s a pathological liar. But because Trump’s antics and personality are beyond belief.  Centuries from now, people will still be looking back on the Trump era. Incredulously. As an example of truth being far stranger than fiction. --Jim Broede

Next door to Hell.

The nice thing about spring. In Minnesota. Are the variables. Several days of above normal temperatures. I go walking. In shorts and a t-shirt. But overnight, we’ve had a north wind. An inch of snow. Puddles have turned to solid ice. I’ll bundle up. And take what I get. Crisp, clean air. From Canada. Sure beats being in Syria. Makes me wonder. Why some of us are blessed. While others live in Hell. And what, if anything, I can do about it. As I savor life. In Paradise. Next door to Hell. --Jim Broede

There's no faking it.

One might think I’m faking my love for life. Because I’m not hesitant. To express my displeasure. With certain aspects of life. Mainly in the political realm. But truth be told, I get pleasure from my displeasure. It’s very satisfying, for instance, when I become riled. While complaining about the weird antics and insensitive comments and gross incompetence of Donald Trump. Allows me to release stored up verbal venom. Think about it. I have freedom of speech. I don’t have to take guff from anyone.  Yes, another of an infinite number of reasons to be in love. With life. --Jim Broede

For evermore.

 I lament the loss of time gone by. No longer youthful.  Physically, that is. But really. I should embrace and celebrate what I have become. And savor the rest of life. For as long as I am alive. There is more to come. Always another horizon.  To reach and cross. Makes me wonder. If looking back is a sin. Because life is always meant to be. In the now. For evermore. --Jim Broede

Makes life worth living.

I’m focused on the one-on-one relationships. For a reason. Because those are the ones that have meaningful effect. On both participants. I and Thou. I’ve had two true loves in a lifetime. Indeed, my greatest achievement. The experiences that made me feel whole. Complete. I contrast that with historical mass movements. Which bring about societal change. Political change, for instance. For the common good. Movements that sort of evolve. By themselves. Really. Doesn’t matter whether I’m here to guide them along. I’m a mere sideline observer. To the inevitable course of history. Meanwhile, I go out. In search of my Jeanne and my Cristina. My true loves. I find them. And we cultivate our relationships. Together. It’s not by total happenstance. The two of us make it happen. That contrasts with societal movements. I, alone, cannot make those movements happen. It’s a form of destiny. Beyond my direct control.  But I chose to fall in love. With Jeanne. And with Cristina. That makes my life very meaningful. And thrilling, too. As to whether Donald Trump is president or not. I don’t care. It’s beyond my control. Crap happens.  And so does love. Love that I instigated. Wow! Makes life worth living. Despite the you know what. --Jim Broede

Nobody can stop me.

The way we treat each other. In the political realm. All over the world. It’s unacceptable. I declare it. Right here. But I can’t do anything about it. Other than to complain. To protest. Which I’ve done. Virtually all my life. I earned my living that way. And I participated in local politics. But seems to me it’s all gone for naught. I’ve had virtually no significant impact. The world would be what it is. Politically speaking. With or without me. I haven’t made one iota of difference. Time that I recognized. My futility. I am not in a position of power. I am a mere grain of sand on an isolated beach.  Yes, folks. That’s the brutal truth. We ordinary people have no control over the political world in which we reside.  What will be, will be. But still, I have emerged from this hellish mess. By falling in love.  With someone. With life. Yes, that is my salvation. Nobody can stop me.  From being a romantic idealist. A spiritual free-thinker. A political liberal. A writer. A lover. A dreamer. Maybe even a decent human being. --Jim Broede