From Darkness a bit of Goodness

And charity.

As sure as the odds are of me popping a Happy Hour IPA, the US will surpass the million Covid related fatalities milestone in the near future. 

America’s Civil War was our last comparable infamous Death benchmark. Between the years 1861-1865,  620,000-750,000 Blue and Gray combatants were killed. (Most succumbed to disease rather than bullets or bombs). On November 3, 2021 the US Covid death count blew by that number in less than two years.

This is not something to be proud of. 

The US is now Numero Uno for Covid Deaths in the World. (Despite making up a mere 4.2% of Earth’s  inhabitants). Regrettably, many of these deaths were avoidable. Statistically speaking vaccines save lives. It’s mostly the unvaccinated and elderly who are ending up in the mortuaries. 

“Just since this summer, 150,000 unvaccinated Americans have needlessly lost their lives despite the widespread availability of vaccines,” Dr. Peter Hotez of the Baylor College of Medicine, in Houston. Source New York Times. 

So…the US will continue to stumble and stutter to the 1,000,000 mark.

Here’s what I’m proposing. People will make wagers on pretty much anything. How about a call the date of one million Covid deaths in the US?  

(This pool will make a charitable contribution to the hungry of La Plata county, CO.)

The rules are simple:

$5 entry fee/date.

Choose a date or a series of dates. 

In case of a tie, the betting pool will be split accordingly.

The “House” (that’s me) will subtract $1 per bet. Each and every George Washington note will be donated to the Durango Food Bank. In other words,  20% of your wager will go a worthwhile local charity. 

https://durangoareafoodbank.org/

The House (that’s me again) will accept cash, checks and PayPal. 

Contact me at: jeffsambur@gmail.com to place your bets and payment information.

My date is March 17th 2022. Saint Paddy’s Day.

Bets must be in no later than New Years Day 2022.

Feel free to forward this post to the other gamblers in your life. (More money means more donations to the DFB.)

I understand this is a dark post. I mean no disrespect to the victims of this seemingly endless pandemic. Some of the money will flow towards helping the hungry and the living of La Plata county. That’s how I’m justifying writing this.

On a personal note. I’ve become numb to the daily grind of Covid. 

Jennifer Nuzzo, an epidemiologist at Johns Hopkins University sums up my current feelings about the virus.

She was asked when the pandemic would end, she replied: “It doesn’t end. We just stop caring. Or we care a lot less.” She added, “I think for most people, it just fades into the background of their lives.”

Source Washington Post.

Stay healthy and safe out there. 

Jeff

“You don’t have to be a Pusher…

to attend a Pusher Party.”

This is how my neighborhood party invitation began. Here’s the rest of the invite.

“Hi Nice Neighbor,

I need HELP! That’s why you’re invited to the Pusher Party. I’m not big or strong enough to push my camper into the garage for hibernation season. 

When: Monday, November 1st at 5 pm

Savory hot veggie Minnesota Soup will be on hand plus garlic bread guaranteed to keep the vampires at bay. Bring a bowl, spoon and appetite. Cold IPAs will be available too.

Dogs can assist if they understand the “Mush!” Command. Owners will have to supply the puppies harnesses though.

Three or four more humans should overcome the laws of physics involved.

Thx in advance,

Jeff” 

With this neighborly 911 call for assistance, Sanctuary Too was docked into winter storage. 

Despite the lightheartedness of making a party out of a non-event, this simple act represents a verklempft moment (Yiddish for overcome with emotion) for me. 

 I named my Toyota Tundra and camper Sanctuary Too for a reason. In a world which seems to strive towards chaos, I’ve discovered campsites featuring silence, neighbors who are four-legged instead of two and sunrises/sunsets which leave me inwardly smiling. I can go days without speaking yet never feel lonely. While camping my life becomes simplified: eat, hike, read, write, drink IPAs then repeat. I sleep better too.

This temporary cessation of all the above makes me sad. But there’s another SAD going on inside of me. Seasonal Affective Disorder, AKA the “Winter Blues.” 

For those who are unfamiliar with this term, from the Mayo Clinic:

“Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is a type of depression that's related to changes in seasons — SAD begins and ends at about the same times every year. If you're like most people with SAD, your symptoms start in the fall and continue into the winter months, sapping your energy and making you feel moody.” 

Going back to my Syracuse, NY college days,  I began to notice a loss of energy and enthusiasm starting around Halloween. I felt “off.” The notorious winters of Upstate NY didn’t help either. The long nights, gray skies, cold and snow only exasperated my malaise. By around Saint Patty’s Day in March, I’d usually snap out of it. I’d begin to feel awake and rejuvenated at the same time.

 I had no explanation on why this yearly pattern happened to me. It wasn’t until the early 80’s while reading a newspaper, I noticed an article, “Maybe you are SAD for a reason?” It was an informative piece explaining SAD and it’s signs and symptoms. I clicked off the list. “Yes, that’s me. Yes, that’s me.” It was an OMG moment. “I’m not totally crazy! There’s a name for what I go through! I’m not alone!” 

According to the American Academy of Family Physicians 4-6 percent of our citizens suffer from SAD. (Lucky me). But there’s an easy remedy. A few mornings ago, I dusted off my light therapy gizmo. While most of my fellow Americans are asleep, I’m drinking coffee, reading the New York Times Morning Brief while soaking up the rays of my Happy Light. The half hour treatment fools my feeble mind into believing the days are longer. It smooths me out. 

Consider this a PSA on SAD.

Alas, long nights are only one facet of winter which I dislike. There’s the cold and snow too. To be honest, I fear winter. 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2019/12/i-have-acute-chionophobia.html

By mid-January I’m hoping my neighbors and friends will participate in a “Pushback Party.” Of course, there will be Minnesota Soup and libations on hand. 

By then Sanctuary Too and I will be ready to fly south for the start of another camping season. 

Stay warm and be safe,

Cheers!

Jeff

If you are curious about what’s Minnesota Soup.

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/01/minnesota-soup.html

Acuweather? Fahgettaboudit!

Punxsutawney Phil? Nothing more then a scamming, overweight and pampered groundhog.

The Weather Channel? This organization would go bankrupt if they were only paid for correct forecasts. 

So WW J, whom do you trust for the long term weather outlook? 

Glad you asked Dear Curious Reader. I consult Pika Predictions.

“You can observe a lot by just watching.” Yogi Berra.

This past summer I spent an inordinate amount of time hiking, camping and sleeping above tree line. In this realm of thin air, cooler temperatures and sparse vegetation you’ll find pikas. That is, if you know where to look. I do. 

But first! A thing or three about these mammal meteorologists. American Pikas are related to Bugs Bunny minus the long ears, fluffy tail and asking “What’s up? Doc!” They are heat weenies. Pikas will suffer when the temperatures approach 80 F. Hence they live at high attitudes. Unlike those sunbathing chubby marmots, pikas do not hibernate. That’s why marmots have the luxury of saying, “Pass the tanning butter, please.” Pikas are slaves to the seasons. There are no days off. During the brief snow free summers, they are collecting, stacking and storing grasses, weeds and wildflowers into their snug burrows. They are small, energetic and adorable. (Like me!) Between their farming gigs, they must be ever vigilant to the hawks, eagles, foxes, weasels, bobcats and unleashed dogs who might make an appetizer out of them. 

It ain’t easy being a Pika.  This is why they are my favorite mountain mammal. It ain’t easy being me either. 

Here’s some of my observations; i saw packs of  Pikas darting around in a frenetic, over-caffeinated state. Oftentimes those fur balls had green vegetation clenched in between their teeth. The Pikas were on a mission. They were telling me in a silent way, “OY! Jeffy! We are working our tuchases off (butts in Yiddish) so we can nosh (eat) in this upcoming meshuggenah (crazy) early winter. We’re sorry to be kvetching (complaining). 

But since you’re a Landsman (fellow Member of the Tribe) we’ll take a break from harvesting

to tell a joke. Jeffy! Do you know what’s a Jewish American’s Princess’ favorite winter wine is? “I wanna go to Miami!”

The Pikas spoke but are their predictions correct? Last year, our fall continued dreamily into December. Maybe I needed a second or third opinion before I quickly booked a VRBO this winter in Snobsdale, AZ. 

So I continued to observe and watch. 

In mid August I spied a pair of badgers. Their fur coats were heavy and thick, they waddled away instead of ran. 

By mid-September hummingbirds went missing from my feeders. My favorite birds must have caught a southern tailwind to Mexico. By now they are drinking a sugary form of Corona beer at some south of the border beach. 

In Durango, by mid-September our daytime highs dropped from 80’s to 60’s. There was no temperature decade of the 70’s. By the end of the month, the San Juan Mountains had a measurable amount of snow. Starting in mid-October Durango will endure a cold snap with nighttime lows in the 20’s. 

That diverse group of animals called this. We are in for an early winter. This is why I’m writing this post from the Utah desert. I’m not ready to come in out of cold…yet.

Stay warm and keep those home fires burning.

Jeff