If Trump saw the light.

I’d love it. If Donald Trump saw the light. Finding a way to bring our divided nation together. Maybe by appointing a blend of Democrats and Republicans and Independents to his cabinet. So that friends and foes alike. Learn to work together. To get things done. Cooperatively. For the common good. And here’s another idea. Instead of appointing political partisans to the Supreme Court. Let’s decide to appoint a non-partisan philosopher. Or a poet. It’s not required that Supreme Court justices have a judicial or political partisan background.  --Jim Broede

The search for goodness.

Life can be good. Life can be bad. Same goes for politics. Politics can be good. Politics can be bad. Good and bad. Right and wrong. That’s the nature of life. It ain’t perfect. But I’m pledged. To search for the goodness. In everything.  Even politics. Despite the pitfalls. That keeps me going. That’s why I’m in love. With life. --Jim Broede

Saved only by my imagination.

Please, don’t bother me with the man-made stuff of the world. Politics, for instance.  And I can do without cell phones and television and fast food. And oh, yes, bureaucracies. Just give me more of the natural world. And less of the unnatural. I don’t even need a computer or a typewriter.  I’ll write longhand. Scribbling with pencil and paper. Or better yet, by drawing on cave walls.  I know. I know. I’m addicted to many modern conveniences. But hey, allow me to go into recovery. So that I can live like in days of old. In a remote corner of the world. Come to think of it. That’s exactly where I am now.  In a far-flung corner of the cosmos. Living in ignorance.  Saved only by my imagination. --Jim Broede

Life. As I know and make it.

I wonder. If my wisest move. Would be to shut myself off. And become a recluse.  By crawling into my cocoon. Living like a monk. In my monastery.  Creating my own world. Listening to classical music.  Reading novels. But no newspapers. No television. No Internet. Oh, I would still maintain contact. With several select friends. And my Italian amore. I’d furnish. And maintain my cocoon. I’d eat and dine well. I’d venture into the outdoors.  And I’d let my imagination take me on trips. To remote places in the cosmos. Where I’d have conversations. With the spirits. Maybe even the creator. If there is one. Doesn’t really matter.  I could still be happy. And in love. With life. As I know and make it. --Jim Broede

About life's idyllic wonders.

What am I to do? Now that the guy I detest. Apparently has been elected president of the United States of America. My answer, I guess. Is to learn to live with it. For the moment, at least. I’ll adjust. By getting on with my own life.  One day at a time.  Reminding myself. Daily. That I am in love. With life. Not letting the actions of Donald Trump deter me. I’ll continue my pursuit of happiness. And not be bothered by stuff over which I have virtually no control. If necessary, I’ll withdraw. Into my cocoon. And lead a relatively solitary life. Happily, of course. Maybe by listening to good music. And reading good books. And taking strolls in the great outdoors. And by musing, too. About life’s idyllic wonders.

Then again. Maybe Trump will be full of surprises. Maybe he’ll work with Democrats. To get things done. After all, he’s renounced many members of own party.  In many ways,  he’s independent. Does things his own way.  Speaks his own mind. And tells fantastic stories (lies). In entertaining ways. And obviously knows how to get elected president. By beating the odds. That takes ingenuity. And talent. He’s one of a kind. --Jim Broede

My gawd! Save us from ourselves.

My homeland. My dear sweet homeland. Is teetering on a brink. It scares me silly. One of my best friends. In Missouri. A seemingly intelligent woman. Is going to vote for Trump. So is my sister. In Wisconsin. They’re insane. And so are millions of others. Across the nation. If the polls are correct. Trump has a chance of winning. Even if it’s 10 percent, or 20 percent or 30 percent. That’s far too close. If Trump wins, the inmates will have gained control of the asylum. Perish the thought. That maybe I can’t do much about it. Can’t help my friend. Or my sister. Or my country. It has happened before. In other countries.  On a political scale of huge magnitude. Even in highly educated countries. Such as Germany. In the 1930s. Germans were swept. By a tidal wave of political insanity. Now here we Americans are. Flirting with a destiny. Even worse than the insanity that pushed Germany off the edge. My gawd!  My gawd!  My spiritual free-thinking gawd!  Please! Please! I beg you. Save us from ourselves. --Jim Broede

A crazy Cubs fan, am I.

I’d rather not watch history in the making. Better to resurrect the story. After the event. There’s an advantage. In already knowing what happened. Allows me to savor the twists and turns. That led to the fantastic outcome. Knowing. Right from the start. Whether it was a sad or happy ending. That’s how I dealt with the seventh game of the World Series. Between my beloved Chicago Cubs and the Cleveland Indians. I refused to watch or listen to the game unfold. I went into seclusion. Isolation. No TV. No radio. No Internet. Didn’t even check the score. Until I knew that the game was safely over. I had a friend call me. To announce, ‘Jim, the game is safely over. You can turn on the TV. The Cubs have won.’ I immediately felt the pulse beat of joy. Knowing. That if the game had proceeded. In roller coaster fashion. As it did. With so very many ups and downs. I’d be able, instead, to enjoy it all. As if I were there. Without the anguish. Without the tension. Without the stress. Instead, I went my way. After the fact. Living the moment. In a pleasant and idyllic way.  Of course, my friend suggested that I was crazy. That he was the sane and wise one. By immersing himself in the game. Before it was over. While it was still being played. Into history. Instead, I played classical music. Read a book. Diverted my mind. And here I am. A day later. Happy and content. Knowing that I haven’t missed a beat. Of the most epic moment. In the Chicago Cubs most epic and thrilling season. –Crazy Jim Broede