How many of you can...

Say you still fit into a shirt that is 28 years old? 

This ugly orange shirt was a commemorative souvenir when the Syracuse Orangemen came so close to beating Bobby Knight and the Indiana Hoosiers in the 1987 Final. 

Damn you! Keith Smart for that fade-away jumper! 

I air the shirt out each Final Four Season. Now, I'll  tuck it away until April, 2016.

March Madness is a great reason to sit still for three plus weeks in Tucson. 

Another wonderful tournament and worth the lack of motion.

Speaking of motion, I'll be on the move again soon.

Go Badgers! Oops! Too Late!

Kosher for Passover Bagels and Beer?

Today's Blog will be similar to a Passover Seder. There will be a lot of storytelling going on. Lucky for you, my buddies tell me I spin a good yarn. Then again, maybe they were telling me a story.

When I was growing up my Mom, Clara Sambur (May She RIP) was the kosher keeper of the Sabbath flame. She made sure we adhered to the strict Jewish dietary rules (the kashrut). We had two sets of dishes, one for meat products, the other for diary. Our beef and poultry were purchased from a kosher butcher. (The animals were slaughtered in a traditional  kosher manner). You would never find a morsel of treif (non kosher food) in the Sambur household. Not under Clara Sambur's watch! 

Our religious convictions went far beyond food though. We attended Temple services regularly. My two brothers and I all went through the Bar Mitzvah process at the tender age of thirteen. At one stage of my life I was able to read Hebrew. We observed the High Holy Days, Purim, Chanukah and of course Passover (Pesach). 

When my Mother's flame was snuffed out at a relatively young age (she was 52, I was 17), the remaining Sambur's were left without a Guardian at the Gate. My two older brothers had already left the nest. Sid (my father) was dealing with being a widower. On my own, I drifted away from the religious aspect of Judaism. 

Back to Passover. Of all the Jewish holidays, this one is my favorite. I compare Passover to Thanksgiving. (Minus the Detroit Lions or Dallas Cowboys playing football). You get together with family, friends and strangers and eat too much, sing a few Hebrew songs, kibitz (chat), drink four glasses of bad wine, read from the Haggadah (the Passover text about the Exodus) and laugh a lot. It's pretty much guilt free. 

Well, I thought it was guilt free until I Googled the definition of Chametz (non kosher for Passover foods including all fermented grains and beer!) Yikes! 

From Wikipedia: According to Jewish law, Jews may not own, eat or benefit from chametz during Passover. This law appears several times in the Torah; the punishment for eating chametz on Passover is the divine punishment of kareth ("spiritual excision"), one of the severest levels of punishment in Judaism. 

OY! I don't follow the rules of Chametz. I haven't since I was 17. No lightning bolt has struck me so far, although now I wonder if the sedan that whacked me on my bicycle was a steel messenger from Yahweh. Nope, I won't go there. My God is a bagel and beer-navolent Supreme Being. I'm hoping he/she overlooks my dietary transgressions for the next 7-8 days. 

I am a pretty good cultural Jew, just not an observant one. Look at my Blog's name. Doesn't that say something about me? 

Happy Passover! 

To all my Christian friends, may you enjoy a very Happy Easter. 

Cheers!

Jeff

See in photo two, I even hung a mezuzah in Barley the Van. There's a piece of parchment inside it with a Jewish prayer. 

Thannks Rosie for the gift that makes me smile.

Photo Three is the Keeper of the Flame.

Two Years of Being Homeless...

I've come full circle.

It was two years ago today, that I drove away from my rental home in Tucson. An abode I occupied occasionally for four winter seasons. Now here I am in Tucson again, in a temporary rental apartment. 

I blame the whole life style change on my bicycle accident in July, 2011.

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2014/07/three-years-ago.html

In the summer of 2012, I had healed inside and out and decided to make up for the worst year of my life. I took off on a five month road trip in Barley the Van,  I spent a lot of time hiking in our Western National Parks. It was then that I was the happiest human on the planet. I felt incredibly free.

During those months, I hardly gave a passing thought to Tucson. When I did, the thought was usually negative. The Old Pueblo never came close to feeling like home to me. I was spending a lot of time and money being in a place I didn't particularly care for.

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/03/watching.html

So I had an epiphany. I have them now and then. What was keeping me from trying the wandering, wondering life for awhile? The answer was my stuff! My things were trapping me. 

In the winter of 12/13 I jettisoned most of my material possessions. It was an "Everything Must Go!" Craigslist Fire sale. 

I then entered a way of life a buddy described as such, "Jeffy! You are choosing a lifestyle most Americans are trying to avoid!"

It's been a learning experience. I found there are times to go overseas, times to sit still and a time to be on the road. http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/03/big-bend-epiphany.html

It's been different to say the least. My way of life creates interesting conversations when someone asked, "where do you live?" 

I haven't a clue to where this wandering and wondering will eventually end up. It won't be Kansas. 

If you are curious like I am, please follow along, 

Jeff

It Was a Hard Day's Night...

       

Not for me but for the three Boy Scout victims who fell prey to the chaotic whims of Mother Nature on Mount Wrightson (9,452') on November 15, 1958. 

It was a freak Arctic Express that snuffed out the lives of three youngsters. If you read between the lines, did these Boy Scouts follow the credo of "Be Prepared"? 

Probably not. However who would have ever imagined, a 72 degree morning turning into a White Death blizzard with seven foot drifts less than 24 hours later? 

They made a few fatal errors, but that's all it takes. Getting a late start. Inadequate clothing and worst of all, no real game plan for their summit bid on Wrightson. They got lost when they realized their youthful mistakes too. Not good.

Now there's a memorial on Josephine's Saddle commemorating the tragedy. I haven't seen the site in over a year. The monument seems to grow larger each time I visit. We can only hope they did "Pass to a better place" like the sign says. RIP guys.

I got an early start to avoid the heat. I never had to change into warmer gear and I didn't get lost. The weather forecast was correct too.

Be Prepared!

Jeff 

.

A Blooming Desert...

Just add water.

I've heard it was a wet winter in Tucson. As you can see for yourself, the opportunistic plants concur. My itchy eyes and sneezing fits concur too. 

So Jeff, what's the names of these flowers? I think they are all called pretty.  One might have been named Harriet. 

The fern must have made a wrong turn somewhere in Florida to get on that hillside. 

Another reminder, saguaro cactus' make poor shade trees. 

My hiking advice: Get an early start to see these beauties, it's warming up and they won't last forever. 

The photogenic flowers were seen at Saguaro National Park on the Hugh Norris trail. Yes, it's uphill both ways.

I'm chillin' again,

Jeff

Warning! Warning!

Sign, sign, everywhere a sign

Blockin' out the scenery, breakin' my mind

Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

Five Man Electrical Band

Here's my dollar's worth of conspiracy theory. The National Park Service and the US Forest Service does it's best to scare everyone from venturing out of the parking lot. I think it's a double handshake, wink, wink, wink secret, they don't want us out hiking around. 

Visitors cause all sorts of problems. We require bathrooms, leave debris, harass the wildlife (I was a very respectable distance from the butterfly when I snapped the photo. He looks great on a pin though!), cause resource damage , we require rescue missions at times and ask lots of silly questions to the overworked and under appreciated staff. In other words, humans are trouble makers. The NPS and USFS just wishes we would all go home to read or write blogs.
http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2014/11/the-case-against-casey-nocket.html

There! That's it. I doubt if a newspaper reporter will begin an investigation.Watergate II perhaps?

One thing I'm  sure of though. Saguaro cactus' make crappy shade trees. 

Chillin' on 3rd Ave,

Jeff

Water and Arizona's Hubris

Water of love deep in the ground

No water here to be found

Some day baby when the river runs free

It'll carry that water of love to me

Dire Straits 

From the summit of Mount Wasson (4,687 feet) a hiker can look to the west and see the physical results of the Central Arizona Project. 

The CAP is the largest and most expensive "straw" on the overused, abused and litigated Colorado River. The water is pumped uphill from Lake Havasu for 336 miles to its terminus south of Tucson.

For a state famous for sun, heat, conservative politics and little precipitation (Tucson gets about 12"of moisture/year. Phoenix around 8"), life for Arizona's 6.7 million inhabitants would be near impossible without the Colorado's supplementary water. 

In Tucson, the CAP water is placed in ponds to recharge the aquifer. When the CAP water was originally added to the city's water supply, the mixture didn't play well together. Water heaters went bad, rust in pipes broke loose, laundry was dirtier after being washed and the water's taste was worse than usual. 

So with all the trouble getting the wet stuff here, why is there so much water waste?

Come on Arizona! 

All those golf courses? 

Growing cotton and pecans in the desert? These thirsty plants require 23"-60"/year. 

Public fountains and artificial lakes? 

Homes with lawns?

I'm now reading "Cadillac Desert" by Marc Reisner. The book is a bit dated (he mentions the World Trade Center in terms of size) but the message is still clear. Water use in the Southwest is based upon a house of cards. The resource can't keep up with the increased demands. Rain doesn't follow the plow! 

The Santa Cruz River was once a perennial stream before all these people discovered Arizona. Now the only time it runs full time  is downstream of Pima County's water treatment plant. Maybe someone should warn that duck what he's swimming in. 

All this talk of water got me thirsty for an IPA.

Use water responsibly wherever you live. Well, maybe not in Ireland.