A trauma that became a blessing.

When my dear sweet wife Jeanne became Alzheimer-riddled. Maybe that qualifies as the most traumatic event of my life. Fortunately, I learned to deal with it. So did Jeanne. But it wasn't easy. It was a struggle. For much of the 13-year sojourn. Initially, I was in denial. Persuading myself. That Jeanne was misdiagnosed. But I learned to accept the verdict. And the inevitable. A steady decline in Jeanne's condition.  Took me several years. To learn to make the best of the situation. Being a 24/7 care-giver was the hardest. But I adapted. Adjusted. During the last 38 months of Jeanne's life I became an 8-10 hour a day care-giver. Supplementing Jeanne's care at a nursing home. Never missed a day. As Jeanne's advocate and protector. Gave her special attention and care. Daily outdoor romps in a custom-built wheelchair. Showers. Every night. Just before bedtime.  Hand-fed meals in the pleasant privacy of her room. A daily dose of good vibes therapy. In all sorts of imaginative ways. Care-giving became a fulfilling and loving pleasure. The most gratifying experience of my life.  What started out as a devastating trauma, turned out to be a love feast. Helped to make me a better human being. Yes, the Alzheimer's experience became a blessing.  No longer trauma. --Jim Broede

My glamorous approach to trauma.

Traumatic experiences. I've had my share. In my 80 years of living. A friend tells me, that some of my trauma should be treated. In professional psychotherapy. For my own good.  To better understand. How traumatic events have affected my life.  Maybe in negative and detrimental ways.  Without me being fully aware of it. I have nothing against seeing a psychiatrist. But I'm my own best psychotherapist. May sound like bragging. But I've always found ways to effectively deal with trauma. Even as a youngster. I'm able to elevate and  distance myself from trauma.  And see it all. In an objective manner. Turning the experience into a positive thing. The friend surmised that my father's suicide, when I was 13, must have been difficult to cope with, psychologically. Yes, it was. Initially. Until I concluded. That the suicide was a positive thing. For dad. For me. For the family. For everyone. As the years passed, I was able, more and more, to glamorize the suicide. As being the catalyst for much good. In my life. In my mother's life. In the lives of so very many people. And that, at the time, in 1949, it was my dad's best option. Perhaps even an act of courage. Yes. I would tell a psychiatrist. That's an example. Of how I typically deal with the trauma in my life. By glamorizing the long-term outcomes. --Jim Broede

Getting on the proper track.

My psychological worst. Comes when allowing little, inconsequential stuff bother me. To the point of fretting. And anguishing. Needlessly. Yes, I should merely step back. Distancing myself from the annoyance. And getting on with the frolicsome life. Really. When I think about it. Life was meant to be enjoyed. Savored. And here I am. Too often complaining. Over trivialities. But some good comes from it. Ultimately. When I get on the proper track. Again and again and again. --Jim Broede

I work for free.

I'm my own best psychotherapist. Because I talk to myself. And listen, too. Without telling lies. Willing to face brutal truths. About myself. Occasionally. I've gone to a professional psychotherapist. Yes, paid good money. To be psychoanalyzed. But that's a rip off. Because in the psychotherapy sessions, I'm the one that does all the work. The talking. The actual analysis. The psychotherapist merely sits back, and listens. Then collects his fee. Without the slightest qualm of conscience.  Therefore, I might just as well do it all.  Plus, there's a bonus. I work for free. --Jim Broede

The pleasure in not being the best.

Don't know why it's so necessary. To be the best. At anything in particular. Seems to me that even being moderately good. At something. Should be sufficient. Especially if one enjoys what he's doing. Perhaps only dabbling. At a particular skill or endeavor. Let's say that I choose to run a marathon. And I get tired after 15 miles. And drop out. Still, I've achieved something significant. Maybe even remarkable. By the fact that I participated. Gave it a go. I call myself a lover. And a dreamer, too. Doesn't matter. If I'm not the best lover. Or the best dreamer. I can settle for merely being me. For putting forth a decent effort. I'm leery of people who want to be recognized as the best. As the winner of the World Series, for instance. Turns out that the Chicago Cubs didn't win the top prize. But as a Cubs fan, I'm still happy. Doesn't matter that the Cubs didn't go all the way. They were good enough to suit me.  To give me pleasure. Even in years when they finished last. --Jim Broede

Doesn't get funnier than this.

I have weaknesses. Liabilities. Imperfections. But that doesn't stop me. From declaring. That I'm perfect. Just for laughs. But the funniest part of this whole business. Is that some people don't laugh. They think I'm being serious. About being perfect.  That I actually believe it. And therefore, I'm nuts. Instead, it's part of my shtick. In preparation. For my lofty goal. To become a stand-up comic. Could be. I'll have lots of competition. From natural born comedians. Seeking the Republican nomination for president. After watching their three televised debates, I couldn't help but admire their performance. They so adeptly feign being serious. When it's obvious they can't be. I rolled on the floor. In loud guffaws. When I saw their hilarious act. These Republicans have pulled it off. With aplomb. They'd be wise. Hiring me as their manager.  I'd get them booked. At comedy clubs all over. Believe me. It's the funniest stuff I've seen. In a long, long time. --Jim Broede

Too stupid. To even care.

I have no complaints. About the months of September and October. Here in Minnesota. They’ve been wonderful months. Near-perfect weather. From my point of view. A nice preparation. For inevitable winter. Mother Nature has been good to us. I appreciate it. No snow yet. And only two frosts. Of course, if I’m a true lover. I’ll love an occasional blizzard. And 30-below-zero, too. Whatever Mother Nature dishes out. Though I wonder. If Mother Nature is no longer the Supreme Ruler. Over weather conditions. Yes, we inhabitants have seized control. From Mother Nature. Perhaps in a reckless manner. Thinking that we know better than Mother Nature. Or maybe it’s that we are too stupid. To even care. Oh, dear Mother Nature. I’m with you. On your side. Because you care. About the long-term negative effects of global warming. --Jim Broede