In search of Happy Places…

When this old world starts getting me down

and people are just to much for me to face

I climb way up to the top of (Sanctuary Too. My truck and camper)

and all my cares just drift into space.

Up on the Roof

Sung by the Drifters

Lyrics by Carole King and Gerry Goffin

Face it, we’re not living in the “Leave it to Beaver” or “Ozzie and Harriet” or even the law and order sitcom “The Andy Griffith Show” days anymore. We have more concerns than worrying about Opie Taylor getting caught in a lie. 

Going about ones business has gotten more complicated. Life is as not simple as it once seems to be. To quote George Clooney from “O’Brother Where Art Though” 

“Damn! We’re in a tight spot!”

On the international scale there’s:

A daily climate change calamity. Flash floods, wildfires and dust storms. OY VEY!

The never-ending Covid Pandemic. 

A rise in chest thumping Nationalism leading to a Russian invasion of Ukraine. Thus triggering all sorts of shortages and further disruption of international trade. Plus the human  misery toll of needless death and destruction. All of this to fulfill another tyrant’s ambitions. (There sure seems to be a lot more tyrants these days too.)

On the National scene:

Speaking of tyrants. 

Trump the Loser who won’t admit as much, orchestrating the demise of democracy. Facts be damned. I want it my way. Sadly enough, a majority of Republicans kiss his ring and go along with this wayward unreality TV show. I can’t wait to see the new Treasury Bills. “In Trump We Trust.”

And furthermore:

The overturning of Roe vs. Wade. Gun owners now have more rights than women.

Hyper inflation.

The now hairline fracture between separation of church and state.

And the Merican Way of Gun Violence.

 And now on the personal front:

Back in August 2019, I gave up the Homeless by Choice lifestyle because…well, i was getting lonely out there. Upon setting up a basecamp in Durango, CO I sought guidance from that NY Times bestseller, “A How To Guide for a Wandering Wondering Jew to Meet Fellow Humans.” 

Chapter One: Immerse yourself in local events.

So I did and still do with a Covid timeout in between. 

I’ve attended: an Earth Day Celebration, the Dandelion Festival, Animas River Days, A Taste of Durango, San Juan Brew Festival (twice), Multitudes of Green Drinks, Durango Film Festival (twice), Bike Durango film and silent auction, a Celtic Festival, iAM Music concerts in Buckley Park, a Durango Trails 2000 Fundraiser ETC, ETC. 

I people watch , smile at the many strangers and generally enjoy myself. Yet, I’m not making any newbie connections. 

Chapter Two: Become a volunteer for non-profit organizations.

I do and did that too.

Book schlepper for the Friends of the Library book sales. When I’m on the job,  I’ll exchange stories/quips with the other hard working volunteers. When the gig is over, I limp away with a sore back and still feeling socially unfulfilled. 

Tree Planter and Fen Restoration Helper for the Mountain Studies Institute. (See above for results, plus multiple bloody lacerations.)

Forest Ambassador for the San Juan Mountain Association. I like this gig. I get to schmooze with mostly Pilgrim Hikers about Leave No Trace ethics. When I notice their lack of water, food and warm, dry clothes. I  break open my BIGLY day backpack. I’ll display to the neophytes what I’m carrying if Mother Nature throws me a four-seam high-heat fastball. 

To spot a Pilgrim, check the socks. Cotton=Rookie.

La Plata County Democrats Fundraiser. I was the guest bartender. Between giving ample pours, many smiles and pounds of Cutie oranges (there’s a lot of scurvy going around) I spoke to my fellow liberals. Social Result? Same as the above.

I commiserated with a Buddy of mine, he said, “Jeff! Don’t take it personally. It’s a sign of our times.” 

Another friend said it all so succinctly when describing a couple we mutually know. “They’re in their own there.” Meaning? In their own world. No need for outside intrusions. 

But I do take it personally. 

Fortunately, the other reason I moved to Durango was for its Four Corner, Colorado Plateau epicenter location to Jeffie’s Happy Places. No matter which direction I point Sanctuary Too, there’s a Jeffie Happy Place: Mountains, canyons, wilderness areas, National Parks and Monuments. It’s all within a half day’s drive of my Durango basecamp. Perfect. 

I don’t feel so alone when my needs are met. Solitude, Silence, Scenery=Serenity.

BUT! I’m pleased to report, I introduced Kwanhanumas to Durango. It was a rousing success. We even had Belly Dancers. 

Baby steps. Baby steps. Maybe one day, folks will ask me to join them for Happy Hour.

Until then, when I’m in a tight spot, I’ll go camping.

All the above photos were taken from Jeffie’s Happy Places.

When I was growing up in…

the Bronx. Sid (my father) would admonish me. 

“Jeffie! Don’t play in the street. But if you do watch out for the buses.”

Or.

“Jeffie! Drink your milk. It’ll make you taller.”

Or.

“Jeffie! Don’t get into fights. You’re small. You’ll get beat up.”

Sid never had to say to me. 

“Jeffie! When at active shooter breaks into Ms. Pagano’s class, jump out the window. A few broken bones and stitches are better than taking a round.”

Or.

“Jeffie! Make sure you always wear your bulletproof backpack when you walk between classes.”

Or.

“Jeffie! When the shooter starts firing, smear yourself with the blood of your classmates and pretend to be dead.”

So what changed?

Second Amendment advocates claim the home grown terrorists  have mental health issues.as to the “why” the shootings routinely occur. Bullshit! There are emotionally unstable people all over the world. We don’t own a monopoly on off-kilter citizens. Yet, America is the only country where kids and other innocents are fair game when the nut jobs go about their brutal business. 

Others claim the E-mosey Services (instead of the Emergency Services) response by the Uvalde, TX Police Department led to the carnage. Yes. It was tepid and lame at best. There’s no excuse for it.

My analogy would be a rookie firefighter arriving on scene to his/her first structure fire and exclaiming. “Woe! Woe! Woe! You mean we actually go into burning buildings. I didn’t sign up for this.”

 

Cops are hired to go after the bad guys, even if it means taking a bullet. That’s what they signed on for.

Both of these notions ignore the obvious. It’s the freakin’ guns that’s the common denominator to the mass murders.

Merica is awash in weaponry. In some states it’s harder to vote than it is to procure an AR-15 semi-automatic rifle. My responsible gun owning buddy Steve M. explained the major faults behind the murder and mayhem this way.

 “Wrong age, wrong weapon, wrong clip, wrong reason.”

Will we ever get back to the days when we allowed kids to be kids and play “Ring around the Rosie” without looking over their shoulders? 

I doubt it.

Until we change the mindset of the “right to bear arms” there will be other Uvalde, Buffalo, Newtown. El Paso, Boulder, Aurora, Parkland, Las Vegas, Orlando, Virginia Tech, Pittsburgh,San Ysidro   …..and on and on mass murders occurring.

A well armed society is not a polite society. It’s a sick, dangerous and broken one.

If you think I’m upset about this. You’re right.

I still don’t/won’t  own a gun.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2022/05/i-dont-own-gun.html

I don’t own a gun.

nor do I ever intend to.

I have many reasons. My biggest rationale is a simple one. 

I don’t trust myself. 

Lurking behind this seemingly endless smile is a temper. Before you unfriend or block my emails,  allow me to clarify. I’ve placed this unhealthy emotion in a Fort Knox-like setting deep within my persona. On a Halley’s Comet timeline appearance when I feel my blood pressure rising and my fists clenching, I don’t “stand my ground.” I walk away. Quickly. 

Refusing to own a weapon stops me from making a rash decision which would negatively impact others and or myself.  I don’t need or want the temptation. There are no “do-overs” once the trigger is pulled.

Unfortunately, many macho and macha citizens do not have the same self-awareness and self-restraint as I do. They surrender to their inner Demons, oftentimes with horrific consequences. 

I’ve written two previous gun related blogs, both emphasizing America’s lack of any meaningful gun control measures.

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2016/07/freedom-is-not-free.html

Posted July 4th, 2016

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/08/young-men-and-firearms.html

Posted August 12, 2019

Has there been any changes? Of course not. Just truckloads of “Thoughts and Prayers.”

In lieu of recent events in Buffalo, NY and Uvalde, TX I felt compelled to write something once again. 

Will this post change gun laws or Americans infatuation with weapons? Of course not. But, I can voice my strong opinions.

A Nation that does nothing to prevent children from being utilized for target practice is no longer civilized. This is incipient Anarchy. 

It will only get worse with the demise of Democracy in 2022 and 2024 when a minority coalition of aggressive, well-armed insurgents wrests control over our Election process. 

The new law of the Land will be “no rules, just individual rights.” 

These photos are the innocent victims of Buffalo and Uvalde. We exist in a Country  where guns have more rights than humans who live, laugh, love and breathe. 

Shame on us.

Are we destined to fly our flag in a perpetual state of half-mast?

I Never Sired Any…

I Never Sired Any…

Children. At least none that I know of. 

Yet, I take a “Long Game” approach to Conservation and Preservation of Wild Places. I dream of a future where vast acreage of  Public Lands will still be available to Keith and Justin Sambur (the best nephews in the World). 

Decades ago when those impressionable young adults visited me in Colorado I tried to instill in them the idea of the intrinsic value of open spaces.. The concept that some places are best used by being unused. Simply put, “Take nothing but photos, leave nothing but footprints.” (Unless cryptobiotic solis are underfoot. Don’t step on that.) The outdoorsy lessons must have taken hold. They both left the East Coast and moved to Colorado.

(My footprint and a Bobcat) 

With these thoughts and many others in mind, it was time to explore Utah’s Bears Ears National Monument. A Monument we almost lost when it was barely out of its womb.

Here’s some background info from the Grand Canyon Trust:

When President Obama designated Bears Ears National Monument in December 2016, protection for the region was long overdue. Monument protection for southeast Utah had been considered since the 1930s, but it took the coordination, persistence, and sovereign status of five Native nations (the Hopi Tribe, Navajo Nation, Ute Mountain Ute Tribe, Zuni Tribe, and Ute Indian Tribe) for the Bears Ears Inter-Tribal Coalition to ultimately gain protections for 1.35 million acres of their ancestral homelands. Less than a year later, President Trump ignored overwhelming public support for Bears Ears and slashed the monument by 85 percent.

As if I needed another reason to loathe Trump the Shallow Racist Sociopathic Liar. He succeeded in pissing me off again by messing with my second retirement homes. 

But it was far worse for the Inter-Tribal Coalition. Once again, Native Americans (as in original Americans) got screwed by some far away White Guy making bad decisions concerning their ancestral lands. I’m sure it was a flashback moment to all those broken treaties, going back to the Cherokee Nation’s “Trail of Tears” Days. It figures Andrew Jackson was the one  President 45 admired. 

Of course, the evisceration of Bears Ears and Grand Staircase/Escalante National Monuments got hamstrung (that’s kosher ham though) in court. Nothing miserable happened on these sacred lands. Thank you Conservation loving lawyers.

With a change of regimes (according to democracy and the Electoral College) Joe Biden reinstated Bears Ears plus 1200 extra acres to boot. Take that Trump! 

However, I’m not feeling warm and fuzzy about Bears Ears long game prospects. We’re living in a time where lies supplants truth. When too many Americans desire a Govment so small it could be placed into a bathtub and drowned. A concept based upon the Fake News that humans will do the right thing. Bullshit! If so the Cuyahoga River wouldn’t have caught on fire numerous times. There wouldn’t be a need of a Clean Air Act (1970 Nixon), the EPA (1970 Nixon) or Superfund sites mitigating the environmental disasters left behind by companies more concerned about the bottom line than being mindful stewards of our planet.

In other words, there’s a need for Government regulation, Preservation and Conservation. Some higher organization has to be the Enforcer on short sighted individuals and companies.

Enough venting! 

Back to Bears Ears NM and those peaceful playground days. To sum it up, it was wonderful. It’s a vast, wild place featuring plunging canyons, Mesa tops, 100 mile views, solitude, plenty of mind meandering and heaps of pre-White Folks archeological sites. It’s a stand alone massive chunk of Federal Property best left for the gentle admiration of future generations. 

I’ll finish this lengthily post on a lighter note. 

“The Tale of the Q’Anon Ancient Ones Conspiracy Theorist.”

Me and Sanctuary Too were camping with a view. It was almost time for my two minute solar shower pre-Happy Hour ritual. It was then, a camo painted ATV roared into my up-to-that point quiet camp. A true breach of dispersed camping etiquette. The driver was a massive, tattooed and muscular young man who made the ATV he was straddling appear to be a Tonka Toy. Yes, I was nervous. I waved hesitantly in a friendly manner. He stepped off the vehicle, removed his helmet and goggles and displayed a disarming smile. Whew! Jaden and I made small talk about the weather, hikes we’ve taken and general stuff. Then he stared a mile down at me and asked.

“Ever wonder why the Ancient Ones placed their dwellings in high alcoves that were somewhat inaccessible?”

“The archeologists think there might have been new aggressive tribes moving into the area. They built up high for defensive reasons.”

“Nope! They were afraid of Giants.” 

“Giants? Like you?”

“No! I’m talking 24 foot tall humans. They ate the Ancient Ones who were small like you.”

(I wish he hadn’t said that.)

At this point, what I really wanted to do was quote Sid Sambur. “You’re talking CRAZY!” BUT Jaden was BIGLY and now sort of creepy. 

“OK! Well, we’re in Utah! Let me give you a beer for the road. I was about to take a Solar Shower, so unless you want to see an old man naked, it might be time to go.” 

“Yeah, my camp is miles away. Thanks for the beer and info. Good night!”

I was quite happy to hear he was miles away from me. I had met Bears Ears one and only

Q’Anon Ancient One Conspiracy Theorist. One’s enough.

Last photo: I hope centuries from now the corn cob and husk are still in place. 

Preserve and conserve these lands for all who came before us. Preserve and conserve these lands for all to come. Including Giants.

Tread lightly,

Cheers and you can Happy Hour in Utah too,

Jeff

Extra reading assignments 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2017/06/in-june-1864-abraham-lincoln-signed-act.html

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2018/04/the-fort-collins-syndrome.html

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2018/04/somethings-shouldnt-be-collected.html

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-case-against-casey-nocket.html

A Mother’s Smile.

A Mother’s Smile.

My diminutive Mom (a towering 4’11”) possessed a subtle Shaquille O’Neal sized smile. Clara Sambur wore it often and in most social situations. Race, creed, religion or color of a person’s skin, it didn’t matter. She gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. She smiled at them. The response from others was usually positive. 

Then again only a total Barbarian wouldn’t love this harmless expression of friendliness emanating from such a tiny woman. 

Fortunately for me, I inherited this physical attribute. I’m not sure if the handoff mechanism was nurture, nature or both. Whatever the it was,  I’m pleased that her beguiling grin was passed onto me.

I’m certain her smile might have hidden an on and off again sadness. She never spoke about the Holocaust, yet I’m sure her Great Escape from being murdered lingered in her memories. Like most Holocaust survivors, she mentally distanced herself from the horrors. She moved on with her life.

When WW II concluded, Sid and Clara were a confirmed “item”. In 1946, they married. By 1947, my brother Alan was born. Followed by Mike in 1950. Four years later, this “Loose Cannon” of a son came into the world. Mom’s love for us was boundless. We scored endless rounds of hugs. Nurturing, affection and attention was always on the kosher menu. 

So once again, I look back at our family photos as your special day approaches. Once again, I get verklempt about losing you when I was just seventeen. In a short time, you made a positive impression on me. Now I try to follow in your small steps when it comes to being generous, showing kindness and of course smiling.

I’m a pretty good hugger too.

Miss you Mom.

Cheers to all the Great Moms, past,  present and in the future.

Jeff