More like an Italian gentleman.

I’m dressed in rather neat fashion today. Clean shaven, too. Because we were expecting a guest. Interesting, isn’t it? I was encouraged to do this. By my Italian true love. She didn’t necessarily require it. But hey, the hint was strong. I wondered if it’s a case of putting on airs for a visitor. No, my true love says. It’s showing respect. So that’s the way I’m looking at it. On another day, I might have dressed in ragged jeans and a polo shirt. And may not have shaved. Today I have on a nice pair of trousers and a fashionable Italian sweater. And Italian-made dark brown suede shoes that match the color of my trousers. Actually, come to think of it, the apparel feels good. Gives me a psychological lift. A feeling of confidence. Maybe I should dress like this every day. Makes me look more like an Italian gentleman. –Jim Broede

I ain't gonna worry about it.

We were expecting a visitor today. One of my Italian true love’s dear friends. Therefore, we were in a housecleaning mode yesterday and this morning. In such instances, my true love works herself into a bit of a frenzy. I remain calm, cool and collected. Because I’m philosophically opposed to frenzy. In any form. Really, frenzy is  another form of worry. And my motto and theme song is ‘Don’t Worry, Be Happy.’ The Bobby McFerrin rendition. I left my recording back home. In Minnesota. So I did the next best thing. All morning I’ve been humming the tune. A reminder for my true love. Well, turns out that the friend canceled. She ain’t coming. So there was no reason to even be in the slightest frenzy. But hey, the house is very, very neat and orderly. And for her housecleaning efforts, I’m gonna take my true love out to dinner tonight.  My one and only fear: My true love may take that as a reward for being in a frenzy. But then, I’m following my own advice. I ain’t gonna worry about it. –Jim Broede

In ways they'd rather not.

So very many of the characters in D. H. Lawrence’s novels are based on real people. On his friends and acquaintances. No doubt that riled some. Because Lawrence made caricatures out of ‘em. He satirized and lampooned. Especially people he disliked. But even people he liked. Gotta give Lawrence credit. For being so daring. He wasn’t afraid to rub people the wrong way. Even his dear friends. Maybe he was trying to be funny. Or to get friends to see themselves as characters they might be. Bad and good. Negative and positive. If I ever wrote a novel, I’d be just as daring. Friends  and even family members might recognize themselves. In ways they’d rather not. –Jim Broede

Believe me, it's summer.

Summer. Summer. Summer. That’s what it feels like today in Sardinia. The first day of summer. Though it’s only March 2. Balmy. I could walk in short sleeves. Sit down on a park bench. And read a book. In fact, that’s what I’m gonna do in a few minutes. Absorb the sunshine. It’s been a cool February. Or so the natives tell me. Felt more like spring or fall for a Minnesotan. As for today, it’s mid-summer.  Though Sardinians are donning jackets and sweaters. They must be crazy. I’m the only sane being in sight. I know summer when I see it. –Jim Broede

A solid second on my love list.

I really do miss my cats. Loverboy and Chenuska. Gotta admit it. That’s what I miss most about not being back home in Minnesota. I don’t miss my friends and neighbors more than the cats. At least I’m truthful about it. No sense in lying. I have nice friends. Nice neighbors, too. But I could live more easily without ‘em than without my cats. Though I’ve gone days at a time without thinking about Loverboy and Chenuska. I do that to survive. To live happily. Rather than lament about what I haven’t got here in Sardinia. I have my Italian true love. And hey, I love her more than the cats. Even more than the Chicago Cubs. Last spring, I came home in February. So I could travel to Arizona to take spring training with the Cubs. But not this year. I’d rather spend spring with my true love. The cats are secondary. But the first thing I do upon my return will be to become reacquainted with  my cats. They rank a solid second on my love list. –Jim Broede

In my ideal society.

I have absolutely no desire to be a millionaire. But if I happened to become one, I’d not object being taxed at significantly higher rates than people with low or middle incomes. Because I probably could afford more taxes. Unless I were living extravagantly. Such as having to meet a payment on my yacht or my multi-million dollar home.  By the way, I also have no wish to own a yacht. And I’ll settle for a modest home. Of course, I have a right to whatever happens to be affordable. On my income. It can be nice to be a millionaire. But in  my ideal society, one has to pay a price for the privilege of being rich. And that includes a sizeable tax bill. For the purpose of serving the common good. –Jim Broede

Long live Robinhood!

In tough economic times, rich people often advocate austerity programs. Cutting back on spending. Which may make sense for rich people. After all, if one is a millionaire, a 10 percent reduction ain’t so bad. Instead of getting by on $1 million, one settles for $900,000. But what about the poor guy making only $20,000 a year? That gives him only $18,000 to eek by. These are the kinds of situations we’re faced with today. In the sagging worldwide economy. Austerity truly hurts the poor, not the rich. But it’s the rich that wield political power. And they tell everyone in Greece and Spain and Italy to pull in their belts. Go with less and less and less. When really the poor need more and more and more. I have the solution. A decent and moral one. Make the rich get by on less so that the poor can get much-needed more.  Long live Robinhood! –Jim Broede