To Rock or Not to Rock the Boat.


I read Life of Pi yesterday. It was captivating. After all, I do enjoy reading about myself, don’t you? The last few pages sounded like the last four years of my life. The Rest of the Story sounded like all the rest of my life, save for a couple of details (I am all the characters).

Like Pi, I am the tiger, the hyena, the ship’s cook and the creator of my own mythology. I am the inquisitor, the carnivorous algae and the mother who would die for her offspring. I’m the irresponsible father who allowed his teenage son to help supervise this most dangerous of all endeavors.

Like everyone, I am Slave to my Beliefs. though I must insist that I have a higher regard for the esteem of self honesty however illusive, than to the accuracy of an ever-changing Group Myth. This innately creative facet of human behavior was made clear in the final chapter as Pi was being interviewed by representatoves of the sinking of the ship, the result of which was the prospect of an ever-changing reality, not only in Pi’s future but in his past.

Also displayed in this chapter of varying realities was the united expression of shared belief as dominate any kind of group activity and which sought to exert control over this brave teen. These skeptical interviewers sought facts, not stories. Had Pi been interviewed by a Hollywood writer rather than these insurance motivated fact finders, this story might have gone differently………..or “Not”.

And I, like Pi, in order to getalong with the singalong, often hear myself reducing my music to the basic chord structure in an attempt to honor not only myself but my groups and the individuals within.

After all we are all in this boat together, aren’t we? (Sorry, that just slipped out.)




The Automat


I saw a silent film a few years ago. I don’t remember the title; it was probably about fifteen minutes in length. The photraphy was shot in black and white. It was not a pre-talkie; the silent feature and the lack of color were important special effects. The story would have to support itself:   

And  the cameras begin to roll……………….

An expensively attired, middle-aged woman is seen entering The Automat. She peers into several windows, puts money into the slot, removes her food selection – let’s say it was pork chops and broccoli; she spots an empty table and seats herself. Then, realizing that she failed to select eating utensils she rises from her seat and walks to the counter containing the necessary extras. As she returns to her table she sees a man in a shabby suit seated there, eating her food. Several expressions cross her face in quick succession; surprise, anger, pity and finally a sort of resolve. She seats herself opposite the haggard looking and apparently hungry, consumer and again displays the conflicting emotions. Should I allow him to eat my food(?) she seems to ask herself, or should I stand my ground(?).

She places her utensils on the table and reaches for the plate of food. As she begins to eat, her newly acquired dinner companion extends an arm and rescues his meal. They look at each other, he with curious eyes, she with the look of strength and determination. She repeats her previous performance as does the ragged gentleman on the other side of the booth. What now(?) they seem to wonder.

Eventually, it is the man who appears to have the problem solved. Clearly, he is not going to relinquish his claim on the meal but he also appears to be something of a gentleman in spite of skid row appearance. He places the plate of food at a point halfway between them and motions for her to partake of some nourishment. She slowly and with a cautious look and manner, complies. He then carves the pork chop and with the edge of his knife moves a few pieces in her direction. With his fork he places a morsel of meat into his mouth and motions for her to do the same.

What, I wondered would motivate this woman to give in so easily? What would I have done in a similar situation? In a matter of only a few minutes the food is nearly consumed by these two people. She moves the plate toward her dinner partner and rises to leave. He thanks her with his eyes and with the wave of his hand and a final tap of the napkin on the corner of his mouth seems to be saying “No thank you, I couldn’t possibly eat another bite. Thank you for joining me; have a wonderful day.”

She returns his smile. They turn their backs to each other and depart, each exiting in different directions. As she passes the booth situated directly behind the location of her meal of moments ago, she notices a plate of pork chops and broccoli with no utensils; there was no one seated before it.

Who, What, Where, When, How. (Never, Never ask Why)


Who asked that question; who wants to know?

What exactly is the question?

Where were you when this question first occurred to you?

When did this first occur to you?

Why is this so important to you? (Never mind.)

How did you happen to develop this train of thought? (There, that wasn’t so difficult.)

Have you developed any theories in your quest for data?

Is there a point beyond which you will cease to wonder?

Does it bother you that all your friends have the answers to these questions?

Does it bother you that your friends haven’t a shred of evidence to support their answers to your questions?


This is not a poem, Lee.

This does not exist.

This does not, you silly thing

Reveal more than the gist

Of anything.

Be still


Grab your camera.


Who, What, Where, When, How. (Never, Never ask Why)
Self inflicted monologue and not-a-poem by Lee Broom.

Any Excuse For a Rhyme.


How many millions are in a trillion?

How many leaves in a forest?

How many souls exist in forever?

How many came before us?


Where is it written?’Where are the answers?

Where is the heavenly Chorus?

When did the Big Bang Beget the beginning?

Is the answer there before us?


What if I told you I knew all along?

What if you held a Thesaurus?

A new interrogative might have an answer

Or perhaps it would simply bore us.


(Should I claim this?)

By Lee Broom



Entertainment is a major priority in life.

Anything with a nervous system yearns to have fun.
Animals don’t smile with their faces but who can mistake the joy of the family
dog when the family comes home for the evening or the purr of a kitten or the
baby who has learned to laugh. Those of us who do not get enough joy and
laughter, eat or drink ourselves into near sedation; we watch an imaginary world
flash before us on large screen TV, we go to the mall; anything to be entertained.

And then one day we become the entertainer, the child laughs as we punch
the laughter button,  the family dog leaps with delight as we enter the room,
the Love of our Life has a bigger smile than usual because of something we said
with enthusiasm in our voice and the world is suddenly better, our waistline relaxes
as the need for a drink is forgotten and the sun comes up in the East.

And you say
to yourself “Wow, what’s going on here”?

And you look for new opportunities to entertain someone; you are eager to say to
anyone who will listen, “you won’t believe what just happened……….”

By Lee Broom.




“…LOVE is not simply the feeling that we get when someone
is doing something really great for us. True Love is the Healing
taking place, the very Face of God emerging in both them and us.”

Mother Teresa. 1979



“Knowledge is not simply a list of facts; it is a set of
instructions. That is my gift to you, Grandson. Happy Birthday.” 6.12.1944

Great Grandmother Lena Belle Broom to Lee Broom on his fifth
birthday as she handed over a brightly wrapped package containing
a Webster’s Dictionary.


“Everyone is gifted – but some people never open their package.”

Buddha. A long time ago.

By Lee Broom.


Mythology in Progress.


All of life is mythology in progress.

Twenty observers of any given event would if asked, give varying reports of what they had observed. In fact any individual’s story about such would probably be altered over time. Only in print does a story have an opportunity to remain unchanged. But if a story or a report of an event makes for interesting reading and becomes a part of history, historians are notorious for arguing among themselves over the accuracy of recorded events. And then there are translations to other languages. There may even be translations within the original language as time changes that language into something new.

What is important is not the story but the lesson learned.

By Lee Broom     Leadership; A Love Story.

Singin' the bleus.