On feeling more alive than ever.

Go days sometimes without thinking about the life I left behind in Minnesota. Because I’m immersed in life in Sardinia. With my Italian true love. And that’s the way it should be. Can’t say that I miss Minnesota and America. Because I really don’t think about it. I’m busy/occupied with things going  on around me.  Living life. And savoring it. The little things. Everything. It’s a privilege. A blessing. Getting a feel for Sardinia and Italy. I don’t wish to be anywhere else. Though when I return to Minnesota in April, I’ll be immersed in life there. Maybe even more so than before. Because I’m feeling more alive than ever. More curious. More adventuresome. More in love. –Jim Broede

Might hurt a 'nice guy' image.

I know nervous people. Used to be that I allowed them to make me nervous. But that’s silly. Instead, I let them be nervous. Figuring that’s their way. They could choose not being nervous. But hey, I have no right to force ‘em to be calm, cool and collected. Of course, I try to make them less nervous. By being a nice guy. By letting ‘em know that they don’t make me nervous.  So go ahead. Be nervous.  It doesn’t bother me much. If at all. Actually, I enjoy studying and analyzing the antics of nervous people. In many ways, they are funny. Entertaining. Odd as it may seem, they make me more relaxed. They teach me not to be like them. Sometimes, they make me laugh. Out loud. But I try to stifle the laughter. Because they may think I’m poking fun. In a sense, I am. I hate that about myself. Might hurt  my image as a totally nice guy.  –Jim Broede

The good and the bad.

I’m boycotting my Chicago Cubs this spring. Not making my usual trip to spring training in Arizona. Instead, I’ve chosen to stay longer than usual in my exotic Paradise. Living with my Italian  true love. In the city of Carbonia. In Sardinia, an island in the Mediterranean Sea.  One has to make choices in life. Fortunately, all of my choices as to living environment are good ones. Some are a little better than others. Not worse. Unlike in the realm of politics. Where all the choices are bad. Some are less bad than others. But still bad. Also, it might be construed that my Cubs play bad baseball. But I’m not looking at it that way. The Cubs are good for me. Win, lose or draw. The same way that I look at friends. All friends are good. No friend is bad.  –Jim Broede

Let 'we the people' take charge.

Obama. He’s sounding more like what I want him to sound like. A liberal. A progressive. A collectivist. A democratic socialist. He talks about ‘we the people’ in his second inaugural address. That’s what we Americans are. A collection of diverse people. Needing to work together. To achieve the common good. Not the good of a relatively few monetarily rich individuals/oligarchs. We need a society that pulls together. In a collectivist way. Virtually the exact opposite of the greedy and selfish Republican approach. Republicans advocate  everyone for himself. In a ruthless and uncaring society. Allow the rich to get richer, and the poor to get poorer. That’s not what I want. I want the way advocated by Obama. And if the Republicans continue to resist and stay in their obstructionist mode – well, then it’s time for ‘we the people’ to send a message. To hell with Republicans. --Jim Broede                                                    

Falling in love. With work.

I’m in love with work. Always have been. Doesn’t matter what kind of work. I’ve done it all. Oh, maybe not quite all. But an immense variety. I made my living mostly by writing. For newspapers. Enjoyed maybe 90 percent of it.  Yes, loved it. Work wasn’t really work. More pleasure than anything. Mindfully stimulating. Adventuresome, too. And one summer I worked as a ditch digger. On a work crew reinforcing a railroad bridge across the Fraser River near the Continental Divide in the Colorado  Rockies. Another summer I painted auto tire treads with a gooey tar at a tire manufacturing plant. And I worked at a craft, refinishing furniture.    Spent three years, too, in the U.S. Army, being a goofy soldier. And my first job was delivering a daily newspaper. On my bicycle. And these days, though I’m retired, I’ve become a househusband, of sorts.   Doing household chores and cooking. And not least of all, writing my blog. Daily. There’s no let up in my so-called ‘work’ schedule. Might call me a workaholic. Except for one thing. I’m loving every minute of what I’m doing. I enjoy it. Believe me, it’s pleasure. But still, I hear people complaining about their work. They tell me what they do. And it sounds like mostly pleasure. I’d love to be doing it. But they’ve learned to detest their work.   Sad. Sad. Sad. They are wasting away their work career. By literally making it tiresome, unfulfilling work.    Thing is, work shouldn’t be work. It’s a sin. Making hard, agonizing work of work. I much prefer falling in love. With work. –Jim Broede

Knowing gypsies will be blamed.

I see garbage all over the place. Just outside the gypsy compound. And I wonder why it takes so long for something to be done about it. Here in the city of Carbonia on the beautiful Mediterranean island of Sardinia.   I have yet to inquire. Maybe because I have better things to do. And just haven’t gotten around to it. Also, because I know it’ll be cleaned up eventually. Has been before. Maybe the city takes notice. And brings out the garbage-clearing crews. Yesterday, I saw several hundred full and bulging  plastic bags along curbsides. Piled willy-nilly. A stack of old tires, too. And wads of wind-blown litter. Not sure that I can blame the gypsies for the entire mess. Maybe others find it convenient to dump their garbage near the compound. Knowing the gypsies will be blamed. –Jim Broede

Strange. But beautiful.

I like the home building materials in Italy. Unlike America. Because of the absence of wood. Most dwellings are made of stones. And bricks. And cement blocks.  And concrete. Solid stuff. Lasts and lasts. I see many older buildings being reclaimed and updated. By using the original, solid stone foundations. That even goes in Carbonia, the city where I’m living. Despite the relative newness of the city. Established from scratch. By Mussolini. In the 1930s. The buildings are colorful. Painted. Many in pastel hues. And the city has planted rows and rows of trees along roadways. Umbrella pines. Eucalyptus. Cypress.  Palms.   Cacti, too. Similar to what I see in Arizona. Which seems strange.  But beautiful.   –Jim Broede