What’s your Covid number?

Winter has struck in Durango. I don’t venture outdoors too often, Its potential hypothermia and icy out there. I now find myself in extended periods of solitary confinement. 

Fortunately I still posses an active imagination. ( I haven’t murdered all the gray matter with my daily solo IPA Happy Hours. Yet! )

So without further ado, my blog...

There’s 331 million Americans with nearly that many opinions on dealing/existing with the scourge of Covid. We need to quantify where we all stand, sit or lie down on this complicated issue. So I invented the “Sambini Covid Zero-to-Ten Scale of Pathogen Personal Prerogatives.”

I know what you’re thinking. What the Hell is that! Patience Grasshopper while I explain. 

And in the beginning Jeff created a scale....

0: An American who asks, “What’s Covid?”

1: Americans who claim the virus is nothing more than a hoax. They refuse to wear masks. It runs counter to their individual rights. They consider themselves to be True Patriots. Just ask them.

2: Americans who are Covid aware, but believe it’s transmitted from contact with dirty toilet seats. Therefore no need to wear a mask.

3: Americans who will begrudgingly mask up to gain access to a public building. Once inside, masks migrate below their chin line. 

4: Americans whose masks slide below their noses. We’ve all seen this look. 

5: These are the middle-of-the-roaders. They are Team Players who will don masks in public buildings, yet they bear a business as usual approach to the pandemic. They are so-so about social distancing. If pressed, they will state, “I won’t live my life in fear of Covid.” 

6: Is a 5’er who won’t shake your hand or give you a hug.

7: Americans who wear a mask in all public buildings and occasionally in outside settings. They won’t be found in an inside bar, restaurant or on an airplane. Seven’s will have occasional lapses of good judgement at outdoor social gatherings. Abundant alcohol use is often the cause. (I confess! I’m guilty!) 

8: Americans who have changed their routines and schedules around Covid. Eight’s will limit their exposure to other Americans. They’ll grocery shop at the opening bell when most others are still in bed. They’ve pared their needs to the basics. Food, alcohol and a quarterly haircut. 

9: Extreme mask use and very limited public appearances. These are the people seen wearing a mask while driving alone.

10: The Uber extreme side of Covid. They’ve gone missing since the initial March lockdown. All food, alcohol and other necessities are Amazon Prime delivered. If your timing is perfect you might see an outstretched gloved hand snatching up a bevy of cardboard boxes. Their homes are hermetically sealed too. 

That’s my easy to follow rating system.

In America no invention/idea is worth anything if you can’t sell or scam it. Since my book sales have been more or less comatose like my social engagements, 

(Find “Destroying Demons on the Diagonal” on Amazon below:

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B006VXRMUG/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1

I’m launching the Sambini “What’s your Covid Number?”  line of t-shirts, jackets, sweatshirts  and of course masks.

My activewear will feature “COVID” in bright contrasting colors in the front and on the back. Below that will be your number on how you personally view the virus. ( I probably won’t sell many 0’s, 1’s or 10’s.) I’ll make a great line of clothes—and nobody makes better clothes than me, believe me. And I’ll make the manufacturer’s pay for that great gear. Mark my words. 

Plus with every sale you’ll get a free set of Ginsu knives. Such a deal!

BTW. I consider myself to be a solid 7.5.

Cheers to a better 2021, (no matter what your number is.)

Jeff

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