“People who need people are the...

(In the time of Covid) are the (un)luckiest people in the World.” 

My sincere apologies to Barbara Streisand.

There’s no way to sugarcoat it. Covid sucks. We are all being negatively impacted by this submicroscopic scourge. Even a guy like me whose been social distancing for well over a decade is bothered by it. One might say I was doing SD before it was cool. BUT! The folks I feel the sorriest for are the ones I nicknamed “The Mayors.” 

What’s a Mayor personality? They are the people who will sprint across a room to meet and greet a stranger. The intro would go something like this. “HI! I’m ..., Damn fine to meet ya!” For them, being a stranger is only a temporary condition. They are our gregarious, more the merrier, outgoing and optimistic acquaintances. Mayors have obese social calendars. From sunup to bedtime they are engaged with others, oftentimes in group settings. Their Minimum Daily Requirement for Socializing is off the charts. They get twitchy if left alone for fifteen minutes. For Mayors , social distancing and minimizing their exposure to others is Pure Hell. 

It’s a lifestyle I’m aware is out there, yet it’s  foreign to me. Where’s the silent, down time? When do they decompress? And most of all, when do they read! 

We all know Mayors. 

I’ve been doing Welfare Checks on my Mayor buddies. “Are you OK? Do you need to talk about your feelings? I’m here for you. I’m retired, I have plenty of time to listen. I can provide you with tips on filling in the quiet times.” 

Alas. I can only offer help and suggestions. We are all dealing with Covid on our own personal levels. This is what I know. Merica’s approach to Covid has been random and haphazard at best. We are now living in the New Age of Entitlement and Anarchy. (Established November 8th, 2016). Do whatever you want, whenever you want. An Individual rights and liberties trumps all other choices. Screw society. 

So...I don’t get caught up in the daily diatribe over masks. I do wear one in public places. Personally I’m looking down the road to the creation of an effective vaccine. Until then, I’ll continue doing what I just did. I’ll go camping.

On the Wednesday before the July 4th weekend, I headed up, up a rocky road to a Colorado Pass. About 400 feet below the actual pass, I found what I was looking for. A flat spot with no neighbors. I popped the top of my camper. I unfolded a camp chair. (This is the International sign of “Campsite taken. Please move along” It works in most states except Texas. https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/03/big-bend-epiphany.html )

After my chores were done, I hefted a day pack and went out to explore a few trails. It was all quite lovely and mostly empty of people. I returned to a warm Solar Shower for my daily ablution. I began to read. Toward sunset, the mountains began to blush. I opened a cold IPA. Deer and marmots (without masks) were the only other mammals around. I felt happy. I slept  like a just fed baby. It was so good, I decided to do the exact same thing the following day. This is how I’ll get through Covid-19. 

Does this mean, I’ve gone totally Robinson Crusoe? Of course not. Like I said in a previous post. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/06/seeking-serenity-in-uncertain.html

A few pleasant, fun, funny and entertaining folks are always welcome in my camp. More than likely, I’ll play Uber Jewish Mother to you. This invitation extends to the Mayors I know too. (Just so you don’t bring a Zip Codes worth of people with you).

Have a sane, safe and healthy July 4th,

Jeff

The “Enforcer” was a nickname...

we lovingly bestowed upon my Father.

Sid Sambur was a small man with big opinions on what constituted right vs. wrong.  He had no qualms about tossing out the Yellow BS flag if he noticed wrongdoings. When it came to “putting people in their place.,” he wasn’t equipped with a pause button. He would not submit  to being taken advantage of or being belittled.

There’s multitudes of Sambur stories of my father’s Clint Eastwood persona. Here’s one example: 

In the early 70’s, I was still living at home in the Bronx. It was toward dusk when I headed out with a buddy on a short bicycle ride. Unfortunately, I flatted out. We began pushing our bikes back to our somewhat safer neighborhood. As the darkness descended, we pushed faster. Too late. We found ourselves in a cul de sac of teenage White thugs displaying sharp knives. Their message was simple and direct. “Drop the bikes, you Jew Bastards and run.” This wasn’t the time to attempt negotiations. We dropped the bikes and ran.

When I got home, I was more than shaken. (Those were the longest knives I’ve ever seen!) Dad heard me come in and asked, “What happened to you? Where’s your bike?” Between sobs, I related the events to him. “Jeffy! Get in the car. We’re going to the Police Station.” 

Dad drove to the PD as if our jalopy had lights and sirens. Sid Sambur didn’t gently make entry into the Station. He erupted volcano-like through the front door. I followed along  on the trail of  pumice and ash. “I want to speak to someone about a bicycle theft. Those hoodlums pulled knives and called my son a Jew Bastard. I want to file a report.” 

The Cops response to Sid’s explosion was shall we say, underwhelming. Only a bicycle theft? Just knives instead of a Saturday Night Special? Being called an Anti-Semitic slur? Yawn! thought New York City’s Finest. 

The Detectives were lethargic at best. Sid got louder and angrier. There was finger pointing too. Finally one blue collar guy had enough and began filling out the paperwork. After I gave my statement, we were ushered out the door. My Dad was still voicing his strong opinions.

I never did get my bicycle back, but I did see another dimension to my Father. 

Sid Sambur is no longer with us. May he finally get a good night’s sleep and Rest In Peace. 

I believe he passed on his “when you see something, say something” gene to Jeffy his youngest son. 

If Sid were alive today, he’d be nauseatingly appalled (like me) at our current state of affairs. He too would see the stark similarities between Germany In the 1930’s and America in the present.

 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/02/adolf-hitler-was-most.html 

The difference is my Father would verbally speak out. I use an I Pad to get my point across. I fear the repercussions of getting punched in the face or worse by voicing my opinions. Like I mentioned in my last post, there’s a lot of pissed off people out there.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/06/seeking-serenity-in-uncertain.html

So...on this Fathers Day, I’d like to Thank Sid Sambur for bequeathing me with my “Don’t follow the crowd” gene. That “Lord of the Flies” mob mentality is oftentimes wrong. 

Last photo: Me toasting to the memory of Sid. He was the ultimate survivor. 

Cheers to all the great Dads who made a difference.

Seeking Serenity in uncertain...

angry and awkward times. 

Do you know what the most worthless item of 2020 is?

A day timer!

Our lives are now in a constant holding pattern. The new norm is cancellations.

Like so many others my spring and summertime plans have been nuked and ravaged by Covid.

April camping and hiking in Canyonlands National Park? That didn’t happen. The Earth Day tree planting gig? Negative. The five night backpack trio into the Grand Canyon? Yuck! Yuck! Yuck!  The Friends of the Library Book Sale? Fahgettaboudit. The entertaining, informative and inspiring Green Drinks Happy Hours. Gone to Zoom.A Rockies baseball game fundraiser for Joe? What’s baseball? (No ballgame but donations are still being accepted. Proceeds go to the American Cancer Society) https://www.joescanlanmemorial.com/ 

Since mid-March my calendar contains nothing but emphatic slashes. There’s been no letup. All the cool volunteering gigs, the Brew Festivals, the groovy concerts in Buckley Park and the Steamboat Springs Crane Festival have been cancelled. Yet! The Four Corners Motorcycle Rally is still scheduled for Labor Day Weekend. Go figure. Varoom! Varoom! 

On the bright side. I haven’t been furloughed or fired, contracted the virus or failed to pay my bills.  I live in Durango, CO. I’m at an epicenter of natural beauty. My nice young neighbors do Welfare Checks on the new old guy in the ‘hood. My situation could be worse. 

But I know things aren’t right in the World. There’s more than a few pissed off and edgy people out there.

Two examples: On a Memorial Weekend hike, I came upon a single parent and her two kids. They had backpacked down to a scenic campsite adjacent to a creek. It was mid morning, sunny and almost sweltering. They had a napalm sized campfire blazing away. I smiled before saying, “Good Morning! Maybe you aren’t aware of this but there’s a Forest wide fire ban in effect. We haven’t seen rain in a long time. It’s awfully dry.”

Mom sort of glared at me before telling me to mind my own business. I backpedaled away after she informed me my Mother dresses me funny. Sheesh! Of course, I phoned the authorities. 

At a recent Covid related demonstration in Durango, an organizer described mask wearing people as “cowards.” The reason? They were submitting to the local Health Department’s suggestion of looking like the Frito Bandito in public places. OY! This could only lead to the Govment taking away our firearms! Where will all this tyranny end! 

At least Durango’s demonstrators weren’t hoisting AR-15’s. 

“Liberate Michigan! Liberate Wisconsin! Liberate Virginia!” Instigated the Commander of Controversy. 

His Followers followed.

All this was going on prior to the murder of George Floyd. Riots and looting broke out in major cities. Mayors mandated curfews. The mayhem was followed by the  theatrics and absurdity of President Lying Scumbag performing a photo op while clutching a Bible. (There’s never a lightning bolt when you need one.) 

Do African Americans have a reason to gripe? You bet they do. 

When the first British slave ship (Isabella in 1684) discharged 150 African slaves in Philadelphia, the die was cast. Bigotry and racism would become a cornerstone of America’s History. Slavery (AKA that Peculiar Institution) would hound our Country from 1776 to our present times. 

The dream of “all men are created equal” was penned by Thomas Jefferson.  Our Founding Father was a philosophical slave owner who was blind to his own hypocrisy. That was just the beginning of our Nation’s embrace of White Supremacy. Google the Three/Fifths Compromise (1787), the Dred Scott Decision (1857), Sharecropping (slavery light), Jim Crow laws, the rise of the  KKK (1865), Plessy vs.Ferguson(1896), 3,446 lynchings and finally ponder why it took until 1947 for Jackie Robinson to swing a bat in the Major Leagues.

A historian could fill volumes with more examples. (Me too.)

So far in the post, I’ve covered “uncertain” and “angry.”

Here’s the awkward part. 

Covid 19 hasn’t been cured. There Is no vaccine. The virus is still lurking around. People will continue to get infected. Many will die.

It’s a crappy time to be sociable. Attempting to make new friends and acquaintances when you’re seen as a possible virus vector is awkward. (Socially distanced hugs and handshakes are pretty unsatisfying). All my plans to get involved with my new community have been derailed.

For these reasons and the many others I mentioned in this older blog.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/04/im-not-sociologist-nor.html

I’ll revert to my old sociable hermit mode and seek out nearby silent, serene and spectacular places. There’s more than a summer’s worth of exploring nearby. Hopefully the marmot terrorists will leave my truck and camper alone.

 https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/05/im-not-mechanically-inclined.html

Does this mean I don’t wish to see anyone? Not at all. Friendly, good natured people with entertaining or interesting stories are always welcome in my camp. Bonus if they bring IPAs, desserts or cold veggie pizza.

Hope to see some of you this summer and fall. 

Stay sane, safe and healthy out there,

Jeff