Our Worst Years.

We’ve all had them. 365 days when nothing seems to go right. We feel jinxed and abhor these extended moments. We crave to tack up a new wall calendar, one with the promise of better days ahead.

In my 66 years, I’ve had two notable years that (I’ll be blunt) SUCKED! 

In 1972, I was just seventeen when my dear Mom passed away. To this day, I dwell on how I lost years of her potentially positive influence. There was so much more goodness, gentleness and generosity I could have acquired from that tiny woman. I feel like I was robbed of so many lessons I might have learned. 

2010  was the beginning of another infamous year. In the late fall, a driver made a hard left into me and my bicycle. My helmeted head and shoulder snapped off the sedan’s side mirror. My left knee twisted. I didn’t lose consciousness, so I came up cursing. The young male driver was wise enough to apologize. This incident triggered a downward spiral of poop including:

A) The worst orthopedic quack in the world ignoring the prescribed MRI report. Thus performing an unnecessary surgery on a knee that was merely bruised but not broken. I came out of surgery barely able to amble. Apparently his arthroscopic skill level bordered on barbaric. Weeks later, when I called him on his haste not to glance at my MRI report, his retort? “I only scoped you. Get over it.” I should have decked him.

B) I began 2011 attending PT sessions to relearn how to walk. It was well into March before I could limp up trails. As part of my PT I hesitantly returned to bicycle riding. By April, I performed my favorite Tucson activity. I left.  On July 11th, I was bicycle touring in Montana when I was struck from behind by a speeding sedan. An accident which should have killed me, but I beat the odds. It takes more than 11 broken vertebrae, a busted sternum and 20 stitches in my face to put me in an urn. So...back to PT I went to alleviate the damages. I freaking hated 2011. I was robbed by three nincompoops of a year’s worth of play, health and happiness. If you’re detecting bitterness, you are correct.

2020 of course has been rotten for most of humanity. As the saying goes, “Misery loves company.” For once I have plenty of company, but I can’t speak to them without wearing a mask. Forget about touching anyone! It’s been a tough year to be sociable. Even for a hermit who occasionally socializes like me. 

We’ve all been robbed physically, emotionally, economically and for 323,000 Americans their very existence. It’s been one drawn out mess. We are now mired down in a winter of Covid discontent. New cases and daily death counts are soaring. A pathogen caused 911 disaster each day.

BUT! There’s hope on the horizon. It comes in a little vial and requires two applications. Yes, the vaccine. I’m waiting impatiently until it’s my turn at bat. Until then I’ll stay in solitary confinement. However, I’m well aware that the vast majority of Americans need to get onboard the vaccination train. It’s the way to achieve Herd Immunity. It’s not called Lone Wolf Immunity for a reason. Please. Be a Team Player so we can all reenter into a more normal society. (I’ll buy you drinks at a real Happy Hour if you do!) 

Wishing you and yours a saner, safer and healthier 2021.

Cheers,

Jeff

Last photo: Take That 2020!

“We always have food...

on the table.” Was my father’s go-to response when one of his three boys was kvetching for a materialistic goo gag we weren’t going to get. If we kept whining, Sid would just say an emphatic “NO!” (I think that was his favorite word.) 

We were kids. It all seemed so harsh. Sheesh! What’s the big deal! Everyone had food on their tables.  But now that I’m older and I think wiser, I see where Sid and Clara were coming from. They both witnessed the Great Global Depression. They also saw how chaos can reign when a German Madman instigates extreme population control measures. Also known as: WW II and the Holocaust. I’m sure in those disruptive times consistently putting food on the table was a BIGLY deal.

When the Sambur Boys became established, there was always food on our table and everywhere else! Mom would admonish me to “Eat! Eat! Eat!” Which I Did! Did! Did! When I reached the age of Bar Mitzvah, I weighed as much as I do now. Except! I was eight inches shorter. Yes. I had a lot of excess schmaltz on me. 

But Sid and Clara were equal opportunity food distributors. Friends, family, strangers and the Prophet Elijah were always asked, “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?” No one left on an empty stomach. 

Guess what? Mosey to my house or camper and I’ll ask you the same questions. (With an offer of an IPA or coffee depending on the time of day.) 

Now in Durango, I’m still working at getting a feel for the town. The other day I was scrolling along on Facebook. Past the endless stream of photos of dogs, babies, scenic wonders and political rants when I noticed something. There on the “Be KIND Durango CO” page was a photo of a young woman and her two tow-headed tykes. Her message was simple. “My kids are hungry. Can anyone help, please?” 

So sad! I looked at the comments. Good Durango Samaritans rose to the occasion offering meals, money and advice. More than one person suggested she check out the Durango Food Bank. It looked to me that this situation was temporarily under control, but it got me thinking.

People hungry in La Plata County? Who knew? 

I checked the Durango Food Bank’s website. Their motto: “Working to Feed our Neighbors in Need. “ 

http://durangoareafoodbank.org/

I continued wandering around the site when I discovered this: 

• There are an estimated 6,420 food insecure individuals in La Plata County.…missing at least 1 meal per day.
• 5% of La Plata County’s children are experiencing hunger

OY! I made a check out to the Food Bank and sent it. Surely I could do more. Which triggered this note to my neighbors. 

Now I’m waiting for the kindness and generosity to flow into that cardboard box.

I can’t help but think Sid and Clara are watching these events unfold from upstairs. Mom would poke Sid and say, “Look Jeffy is helping put food on peoples tables.” Sid might chime in,  “Clara, we did a good job. I think we raised a mensch.” 

This Holiday Season, be a mensch or mensch-ette. It’s the season for giving.

“Let all who are hungry come and eat.” 

Quote from a Passover Seder Haggadah 

Stay safe, sane and healthy,

Jeff

Routine Covid Survival...

“Woke up, fell out of bed

Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup
And looking up I noticed I was late
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Made my way upstairs and had a smoke
And everybody spoke and I went into a dream.” 

In “A Day in the Life.” John Lennon and Paul McCartney poetically describe the start of a UK workday. There’s a routine to it. A sameness. 

. 

Currently La Plata County is in a Level Red - Severe Risk of Covid status. We’re in semi-lockdown. No one is pleased about this.

So I’m hunkering down (again) and seeking soothing sameness. Considering the circumstances, I’ll refrain from calling it “a rut.” Here’s my routine:

Wake up between 5-5:30ish am. Stumble down the stairs (without hurting myself) to flip “on” the coffee pot. (Six cups precisely). Cradle coffee cup in the crook of my left arm, while staring at my I-Pad in order to absorb The NY Times Morning Brief. Next I’ll read emails, Google this or that, dial in Weather.com to see if it’ll be warm and sunny or cloudy and cold. 

All the while the Anti-SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) light is wedged between the La-Z-Boy and my right thigh. This simple fix, fools my senior brain into believing there’s more than 9 hours and change of daylight in this 0-Dark-Thirty time of the year. It’s not a placebo. It really helps.

By first light, I’m sort of conscious, oriented and alert. I’ll start exercising (push-ups, hefting  weights around and balancing on a Fit Ball) while on the outside deck my company begins to arrive. That’s the chickadees, sparrows, grosbeaks, woodpeckers, doves, jays and other feathered freeloaders who flicker about my feeders. They are welcome guests. I unleash my first smile of the day. 

That task done, I’ll make my bed (only to have to undo it 15 hours later) tidy up the place for visitors who don’t visit and guests who are only here in spirit. 

Then time for breakfast! That doesn’t take long.

More putzing around until it’s warm enough to venture outside. Thus starts the best part of my day! I’m off for a 5-10 mile stroll/hike in hopefully Covid-free fresh air. 

Then back to solitary confinement. Eat an unexciting late lunch. Head upstairs to read by the last whiffs of daylight. Shower and shave. (Good hygiene matters even in pandemic times). Back downstairs to pop one of two Happy Hour IPAs. Not three IPAs or one IPA,  but two. 

At approximately 6ish, grab the TV remote to surf 125 channels for mindless entertainment. I’m partial to Ironman, Men in Black, Charlie’s Angels and “Bond, James Bond” genre movies. No deep thinking required. Perfect! 

By 7ish, I figure I better eat something, even though I’m not hungry. I’ll reheat a portion of leftovers from a BIGLY batch of one pot cuisine. Let it be known eating alone all the time sucks.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/11/comfort-through-chaos-through.html

Around 9, the meaningless movie is over, the dishes are washed and the recycling bin contains two more aluminum cans. It’s time to brush my molars and retreat to bed with a good read. 

By now you might be thinking, “Jeff sure spends a lot of time in a La-Z Boy or lying supine.” You’re correct. You might say “I am one with my La-Z Boy.” Which is why I’m cognizant of my daily caloric intake. I’m motivated to maintain my girlish figure through this Covid Crisis. I want to still be able to fit on a barstool or in a movie seat. 

I know my routine isn’t exciting or overstimulating. Covid is reeking havoc for a “vacation planner” like myself. (It’s on my retirement card, so it must be true.) Yet! There’s a light show at the end of this “Groundhog Day” movie experience. 

“What’s that Blogger?” 

A) In less than a month, the days will start to grow longer. Here’s a personal equation. More Daylight = Happier Jeffy

B) On 1/20/2021, there will be a Presidential Inauguration. America will return to Grown Up Government. 

C) A tad later, with major assistance from my nice neighbors, Sanctuary Too (my camper) will be placed back upon the Tundra. Two days later, I’ll be in Death Valley National Park for 4-6 weeks. 

D) April will find me camping in Canyonlands National Park. I scored  two weeks of campsites. 

E) With each and every sunup and sundown, we’re (hopefully) closer to a proven and effective   vaccine. No more lockdowns. No more stay at home routines. Freedom to Happy Hour, hug, eat in a restaurant, hang out in coffee house, volunteer safely, walk next to other humans, go to movies, concerts, the library, brew festivals and shop without fear or a mask. I’m so jazzed I already purchased my Fiesta  hat.

Stay safe, sane and healthy no matter what your routine is. Hope to see or meet some of you on the other side of Covid.

Hang in there. I think better days are looming ahead. 

Jeff