A Real Game...

Changer. 

It was a six-pack's worth of years ago when I awoke in a ditch. Blood was everywhere. Worse still the red stuff was your's truly. Movement was out of the question. Good Samaritan First Responders pleaded with me, "Don't Move!" So I listened. 

Getting struck from behind by a speeding sedan wasn't part of my Life Game Plan. 

I was then on Day Two of a Ten Day bicycle tour in Montana. 

Eventually,  I was placed in a lower rib to chin brace for ninety days. Three Doctors declared my survival to be a medical miracle. As my paramedic buddy Steve Main once said, "Jeff! You must have landed just right." 

I then had to deal with the physical and mental side of surviving a near crematorium experience. Yes, I was stiff, scarred and sore. I wasn't sure how I'd mend. On the cerebral side, I was suffering Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. My dreams (nightmares) caused me to jolt awake drenched in a clammy sweat. That sucked. 

Three months to the day the brace was unceremoniously deposited in a dumpster.. A few days later, this slow moving walking wounded was on a plane to NYC for my youngest nephew's nuptials. Before the affair, I would be staying with my nephew Keith and his lovely wife Courtney. 

At the time K&C lived in a swank high rise in Manhattan. (Yankee Third Baseman  Alex Rodriguez lived in an adjacent building). A Doorman allowed me passage after getting the high sign from Courtney. Up I went in the elevator.

Upon exiting, I stiffly looked right and then left.  Courtney was standing in her apartment's doorway. Her eyes were Full Moon wide open. Her right knuckles were clenched in her mouth. It was a look expressing many emotions at the same time. Most of all it said, "I'm so happy to see Uncle Jeff alive!" 

For me, it made me realize there are people who would miss me if I hadn't woken up in that Montanan ditch. There are people who actually love me. 

We then gave each other a long teary hug 

So...what have I learned from this Readers Digest True Story episode?

First) Even a curmudgeonly sociable hermit like myself can be lovable. 

Second) Pay more than lip service to your passions and dreams. Always be working on your Bucket List, even if the result maybe living in a van down by the river. Do what feels right to you. (Just so it's not harmful or hurtful to others.) 

Third) Unless you foster suicidal tendencies, no one is certain on when they will feel the icy breath of the Grim Reaper or the sudden desire to be pushing up daisies. (Final photo) Play with passion. Life is finite. 

Here's a few more anniversary posts, if this one wasn't enough!

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/07/five-years-ago.html

Cheers and be safe out there!

Jeff

In 2009, I rode my bicycle from...

San Diego to Bar Harbor, Maine. I went looking for America.  My 6,500 mile journey took me through Small Town, USA during the Bull's Eyes year of the Great Recession. 

From my two wheeled conveyance I witnessed the economic calamity from the ground up. Countless businesses were shuttered, our Nation's unemployment rate hovered in the 10% range,  many homeowners found themselves suddenly homeless. As we all recall, it was hard times in the US and the rest of the World. 

In the hundreds of bars, cafes, diners and General Stores I stopped at, I made it a point to speak to my fellow Americans. I asked a lot of questions and was rewarded with honest, forthright answers on how our citizens were coping in the money crisis. The overall consensus seemed to be, "Its tough, but we're all in this together." 

(Read the whole story: http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&page=1&rh=n:283155,p_27:Jeff%20Sambur/

Fast forward eight years, our Nation is now being chaotically led by someone who utilized a "Divide and Conquer" strategy to gain access to the White House. Trump rose to the top by  "telling it like it is." There was no politically correct pause button. Armed with a 100 word vocabulary he verbally cheap shotted most minorities. He sidestepped his history of being crude to women. His speeches were heavy on "Bigly" promises, (now unfulfilled) "alternative facts" (lies) and daily doses of finger pointing. His rants were light on details, kindness, unity and compassion. Everything about his campaign scared the poop out of me. 

Since the Inauguration, it's been a long slog of "The Apprentice" repeat episodes. This is understandable when the Billionaire President has Steve Bannon (White Supremacist) and Jared Kushner and Ivanka   (Jews lacking a kosher soul) advising him. The message is bound to be muddled. 

Now, I find myself waking up and checking the latest top billing "Reality TV" show. Thinking,  "What the Hell is he up to today?" It seems to be a daily assault on the environment, National Monuments, health insurance, public education, our Allies and just plain sanity. 

The result has been I've become more withdrawn. 

 I want good scandal-free Government. I want the US to cease being a Rogue Nation (similar to North Korea). I want a President who sleeps with his wife instead of punching out angry Tweets at 3:00 am. I want a return of America the Beautiful and the demise of America the Badass. I want a leader who acts Presidential instead of adversarial. I want both sides of this ideological chasm to tone down the nastiness which occasionally escalates towards violence. 

I want out.

On August 22nd, I'll fly on a one-way ticket to Geneva, Switzerland. A few days later, I'll start a trans-Alps hike from Chamonix to Zermatt. After that I'll begin my third Camino de Santiago. 

The reasons for my third Spanish Pilgrimage are many. The biggest is the  joy I get from partaking in Happy Hour with humans from all over the World. We sit, chat, exchange ideas and information about our countries. We tell stories, lots of them. We laugh. When we are done, we hug. The Camino is truly "A River of Goodness." (Tony "The Pilgrim" Greenwood quote.) I need a vaccination of this now more than ever. 

I'll be a Goodwill Ambassador. I'll make it known our current FaceTime leader's aggressive views do not represent all Americans. I'll smile, hold doors open for strangers, buy rounds and say "Por Favor!" and "Gracias!" I'll try and win over hearts and minds. 

Lastly, getting back to my 2020 Presidential Campaign run, I'm still in need of a First Lady. American voters don't take candidates seriously without one. (Last bachelor President was James Buchanan in 1857). On my first two Camino's I met one kind, sweet and affectionate woman per Pilgrimage. I'm hoping for a good outcome by starting this 550 mile amble with eyes and heart wide open. Wish me luck. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/11/my-2020-presidential-campaign-begins.html

So what will be the name of this European Journey? One without a finite end in time or place? 

 "The Hugs! Not Shoves! International Be Nice Mission." Of course.

Until then, I'll be spending my time in the mountains of Colorado. I need to whip this senior discount applicable body into shape for the rigors of the Alps and whatever comes after that. I want to be lean, but not mean. Fun loving hikers are welcome to join me along my Intrastate way. 

For further readings, please check out: 

https://www.amazon.com/Wandering-Jew-Follows-Way-James-ebook/dp/B007HMG7CE

I'll end this post with a verse from Simon and Garfunkle's classic: "America"

"Kathy, I'm lost", I said,

Though I knew she was sleeping.

"I'm empty and aching and

I don't know why."

Counting the cars

On the New Jersey Turnpike

They've all come

To look for America,

All come to look for America,

All come to look for America.

Maybe there are times one needs to leave your country to rediscover it.

The last two photos demonstrate the infamous "Shove" vs. the Hug.

Who do you want to see represent the US?

Have a Happy and Safe Independence Day,

Jeff

In 1937, My Grandad bought my Dad a...

One way ticket on a slow boat to America. Like so many other tales of immigration this one too is interesting. 

My dad's family resided in a village near Lodz, Poland. They made their living mending and making clothes. The family was considered middle class. When a wave of Nationalism began to spread from Germany, a high tide of Anti-Semitism followed along. It wasn't a good time to be a follower of Abraham in Europe.

My Grandfather (according to Dad) was a pious Jew, who saw the hand of God in every random event; such as a letter arriving from the Sambur clan already ensconced in the Land of the Free. Unfortunately, it was written in English.  Fortunately there was a Polish-American visiting the town. The gentleman gave it a quick look. He told my Grandfather (in Polish) the letter was a wedding invitation. 

My Grandfather must have had a  "Something Wicked This Way Comes" premonition.(Book title by Ray Bradbury) Here was a Divine Sign. Seventeen year old Sid would go to the wedding in the Big Apple with no return fare. The Polish/Jewish DNA strain of Sambur's  was now destined to continue. 

Mind you, it wasn't easy for Young Sid. He knew many European languages but not the American one. He learned fast, got a gig as a tailor and eventually moved out of his Aunt's apartment. Around 1941 he met Clara Zinn (a recent Jewish/Austrian immigrant with a beguiling smile) on a blind date. On December 7th, 1941 Pearl Harbor woke the "Sleeping Giant."  America was then at War.

Irony: The US Army drafted Sid and eventually sent him back to the Europe. (The Continent his father shipped him away from). Dad wasn't assigned to the Front Line. He gave tetanus, penicillin and other inoculating shots to injured soldiers. He performed clerical duties.He also read letters from home to his illiterate Made in America compadres. 

It wasn't always chummy. Sid told a story of a cold night when soldiers were gathered around a communal campfire. A late arriving GI tried to bully my father away from the fire. Disparaging words were said about Jews. Verbal confrontation upgraded to physical confrontation. The combatants were eventually separated. Sid resumed his place by the fire. Apparently, the other guy wasn't able to let bygones be bygones. He swung a sucker punch, blind side haymaker at my father. The bastard was clutching a tin cup too. Sid's jaw got broken.

This incident made the rounds while my father was convalescing. A Jewish Captain appeared and gave Sid a two-thumbs up for standing up to the bigot. He went on to make it clear to the medical staff, Sid would get treated very kindly or their would be issues. 

V-E Day (May 8th, 1945) finally arrived. Refugee camps sprang up giving aid to the war ravaged and displaced Europeans. Sid's officers must have been aware of his gift for the local languages. (He spoke Polish, German, Yiddish and English fluently) He would serve as an interpreter in the camps. One day, he met a people from his village. He queried them about his family. I suppose they looked down at their shoes and shook their heads. Sid's parents and two siblings were executed for the crime of being born Jewish. In total,  approximately 6,000,000 Jews were victims of the Holocaust. 

Sid eventually was honorably discharged and returned to NYC and Clara Zinn. In 1948, she became Clara Sambur. My oldest brother Allan arrived shortly thereafter, followed two years later by Mike. I was the caboose who arrived after a four year gap. 

My brothers have four sons between them who have been busy procreating. 

My Grandfather can now RIP knowing the Sambur lineage is continuing on in the New World. Thank you Grandad, even though I never came close to meeting you.

Thanks Dad for teaching me the nuances and ways of being Jewish Thanks too for showing me it's OK to stand up for your beliefs. (Even though you might get pummeled!) 

Finally, thanks for all the times you said, "Jeffy! Be a Mensch! Do the right thing!" 

I'm trying, Sid, I'm trying.  God knows I'm trying. 

BTW. Without America"s Pre WW II  Immigration Policy, this post would never had happened. You would be looking at a blank screen. Please give this a thought. We are a Country of immigrants. 

Happy Dad's Day,

Jeff