“Jeffy! Would it be OK...

If the kids visiting you for two weeks this summer?”  was the question Robin (my sister-in-law) posed to me in the spring of 2004. 

It didn’t take long for me to answer, “Sure!” 

Before I signed the papers, there were certain conditions which had to be met. “Jeff, promise me you will bring them back alive and you won’t lose them again. (Picky. Picky. Picky. I only misplaced them once!) “OK” I lamely answered, “I promise.” Robin had one more condition, “The kids are sort of chubby. Can you work them enough so they shed a few pounds?” It didn’t take me long to answer, “That!  I can do!”

My nephews Keith and Justin arrived in Colorado from NYC around mid-summer. After picking them up at Denver’s airport, I laid out the game plan. “Guys! We’re going to do a two week lap of the best parts of Colorado. We’ll either be backpacking or day hiking. There will be no days off. We will have fun. Am I crystal clear on this?” 

The Boys knew the drill from their previous trips to Colorado. Get up early, backpack or day hike, move to another venue, eat, drink, sleep, repeat. All was going well. It was the the usual, me verbally abusing the kids and they tag teaming back at UJ. (Uncle Jeff). Most of the time, I’d cut them off with, “Next! On Oprah. Mean Uncles!” 

The one incident I remember was in the Uncompahgre Wilderness. We were sporting full backpacks for a three night trip. The summer monsoons of thunder, lightning and rain Oh My! was our weather pattern. I was on top of an above the tree line pass looking down at two specs of humans way below me. The clouds above were coalescing into something scary and nasty. I had to motivate the youngsters. “Boys! Would you rather be shopping? I’m sure we can find a nice mall nearby. It’ll be easier on you than backpacking.” Their answer was an emphatic duet of “ F—k You! Uncle Jeff!” I laughed but my lines did the trick. They hustled up and we retreated to less exposed areas. 

All memorable journeys must come to an end. After finishing the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness Four Pass Loop. 

https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2018/08/the-future-aint-what.html

We headed into Aspen right in time for brunch. I ordered a breakfast burrito and coffee. The Boys asked for burgers and fries. Keith spoke out, “UJ? Would it be OK if me and Justin have a beer?” (It was 11ish am). “Sure! Why not? You guys deserve it. I know you worked hard these past two weeks. You both did great.” 

When the beers arrived, they toasted each other. What did my nephews say when they clinked bottles? “We survived Uncle Jeff! We survived Uncle Jeff!”

The next day I dropped them off at Denver’s airport. 

About half a dozen hours later (I missed those kids already) my phone rang. It was Robin. “Jeff!” Oh oh, I’m in trouble now was my first thought. “Yes?” Robin practically shouted, “The Kids look great! They each lost ten pounds. They look so healthy. They had a great time too. Thanks so much!” My answer was short and sincere, “My pleasure.”

Sixteen years later, those Boys are now Men. They followed the American Dream by getting married, having kids and buying a home. In other words, they did everything I never did. Keith and Justin grew up! 

A few days ago, the stars and planets aligned. Their wives and parents (Brother Mike and Robin) granted them a few hours off to hike with their Uncle Jeff. By 7:30 am we headed up above tree line. Keith hung with me stride for stride. (Am I getting older and slower or is Keith getting fitter and faster?). Justin wore a satisfying smirk as he brought up the rear. Neither had any complaints as we gazed at 100 mile views, puffy clouds and stunning wildflowers. Six miles in we took a lunch stop near a babbling waterfall. We reminisced about our past trips together. “Remember the time...” We got back to my truck just as the clouds began to yield rain. It was perfect timing to complete a perfect day.

Now you might wonder, “Where do Keith and Justin live?” My nephews reside on the Front Range of Colorado.

 Coincidence? I think not. They saw the light years ago.

Thanks Brother Mike and Robin for giving me the best nephews in the world.

Stay safe, sane and healthy out there,

UJ

This wasn’t my first wrestling match...

vs. the Grim Reaper.

Nine years ago, I was slammed by a sedan while riding my bicycle. Three Docs gently told me, I should have been killed.I continued to be alive and got my active life back. 

I showed them! 

Now I think back upon all the other previous times, I’ve come close to entering Death’s Door.

Here’s a few graphic examples: 

Around 1976, I was working my first Forest Fire. At sunset a crew of Smokejumpers dropped in on us. At 0-dark thirty I was digging line next to an expert firefighter. A silently burning snag timbered between the two of us. Maybe three feet away.  In a moment another Smokejumper ran over to check on his compadre. After ascertaining he was OK. My neighbor Smokejumper said, “That’s the way, Murphy bought it a few years ago!” Holy Shit! I didn’t know people could die digging fire line! Who knew?

In the 80’s, I scored a career on the Fort Collins fire department. A two story house was in flames. The seat of the fire was on the first floor. My crew was assigned to drag a third hose line to the second floor and check for extension. There was zilch visibility due to the smoke. We moved by feel. The firefighter behind me roughly tapped me on the shoulder. He leaned his helmet into mine. “Hear that? The truck company is opening up the roof. Let’s wait so we can see better after they vent the place.” I stopped. When the smoke cleared. I was a mere 12 inches away from taking the Express Train from the second floor to the still burning first floor. The fire had burned a hole in the ceiling. 

It was 1992, I was returning from a 70 plus mile attitude adjustment bicycle ride. I was just two miles away from a much needed meal when a classic 1960’s Ford Mustang turned left in front of me. I went from 20 mph to zero. I didn’t even have time to hit my breaks. My helmeted head smashed a side panel causing a four inch dent in real steel. I was bruised but not broken or dead. That $50 helmet saved me.

In November of 2001, I journeyed to Utah’s canyon country in search of solitude in an attempt to make sense of the senseless murders of the 9/11 terrorist attack. I was returning to Fort Collins without answers, but carrying less stress. On the eastbound descent off Eisenhower Tunnel  I hit a patch of black ice. My Ford Explorer slid perpendicular across three lanes of traffic. An 80,000 pound semi-truck took evasive actions and missed me by a long stride. An impact I would have never woken up from. I wish I could have thanked that Mario Andretti of truck drivers.

My life was then pretty tame until the above mentioned wallop by the sedan in 2011.

But! The close calls didn’t end on US Highway 2 in Montana. 

In 2016, I was checking out a petroglyph on a cliffy edge in appropriately named Death Valley National Park. The slab of rock I was balanced upon tilted downhill with me still attached. I was going over backwards. My first thought was, “So this is how it ends...”  Miraculously, my foot snagged an exposed tree root before I began to really plummet. The incident screwed up my knee, but I still had a pulse. 

Presently we are all facing a new Merchant of Death. Covid-19 strikes without the screeching of breaks, or the soft thud of flesh impacting medal and nothing is burning except the feverish victims. Something as innocent as dabbing your eyes prior to hand washing can cause a cascading affect of sickness/possibly death.  As in all things Merican, our response has been individualistic coexisting with a “believe what you wanna believe” mentality. There’s reasons our infection rates are spiking and Europe has shut its borders to US citizens. Face it. We’ll be dealing with Covid for more than awhile. The virus doesn’t care If our Administration wants to wish it away with a “Move along! There’s nothing to see here” attitude. Our lives will be imperiled until an effective vaccine is discovered. 

For me, it seems like it’s always something when it comes to dodging the Great Inevitable. 

As usual, I urge you to stay safe, sane and healthy. 

Best wishes to my readers for making it to the other side of Covid.

Lastly Bicycle Helmets save lives (or else you wouldn’t be reading this.)

Cheers,

Jeff

“People who need people are the...

(In the time of Covid) are the (un)luckiest people in the World.” 

My sincere apologies to Barbara Streisand.

There’s no way to sugarcoat it. Covid sucks. We are all being negatively impacted by this submicroscopic scourge. Even a guy like me whose been social distancing for well over a decade is bothered by it. One might say I was doing SD before it was cool. BUT! The folks I feel the sorriest for are the ones I nicknamed “The Mayors.” 

What’s a Mayor personality? They are the people who will sprint across a room to meet and greet a stranger. The intro would go something like this. “HI! I’m ..., Damn fine to meet ya!” For them, being a stranger is only a temporary condition. They are our gregarious, more the merrier, outgoing and optimistic acquaintances. Mayors have obese social calendars. From sunup to bedtime they are engaged with others, oftentimes in group settings. Their Minimum Daily Requirement for Socializing is off the charts. They get twitchy if left alone for fifteen minutes. For Mayors , social distancing and minimizing their exposure to others is Pure Hell. 

It’s a lifestyle I’m aware is out there, yet it’s  foreign to me. Where’s the silent, down time? When do they decompress? And most of all, when do they read! 

We all know Mayors. 

I’ve been doing Welfare Checks on my Mayor buddies. “Are you OK? Do you need to talk about your feelings? I’m here for you. I’m retired, I have plenty of time to listen. I can provide you with tips on filling in the quiet times.” 

Alas. I can only offer help and suggestions. We are all dealing with Covid on our own personal levels. This is what I know. Merica’s approach to Covid has been random and haphazard at best. We are now living in the New Age of Entitlement and Anarchy. (Established November 8th, 2016). Do whatever you want, whenever you want. An Individual rights and liberties trumps all other choices. Screw society. 

So...I don’t get caught up in the daily diatribe over masks. I do wear one in public places. Personally I’m looking down the road to the creation of an effective vaccine. Until then, I’ll continue doing what I just did. I’ll go camping.

On the Wednesday before the July 4th weekend, I headed up, up a rocky road to a Colorado Pass. About 400 feet below the actual pass, I found what I was looking for. A flat spot with no neighbors. I popped the top of my camper. I unfolded a camp chair. (This is the International sign of “Campsite taken. Please move along” It works in most states except Texas. https://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2015/03/big-bend-epiphany.html )

After my chores were done, I hefted a day pack and went out to explore a few trails. It was all quite lovely and mostly empty of people. I returned to a warm Solar Shower for my daily ablution. I began to read. Toward sunset, the mountains began to blush. I opened a cold IPA. Deer and marmots (without masks) were the only other mammals around. I felt happy. I slept  like a just fed baby. It was so good, I decided to do the exact same thing the following day. This is how I’ll get through Covid-19. 

Does this mean, I’ve gone totally Robinson Crusoe? Of course not. Like I said in a previous post. 

http://jeffsambur.blogspot.com/2020/06/seeking-serenity-in-uncertain.html

A few pleasant, fun, funny and entertaining folks are always welcome in my camp. More than likely, I’ll play Uber Jewish Mother to you. This invitation extends to the Mayors I know too. (Just so you don’t bring a Zip Codes worth of people with you).

Have a sane, safe and healthy July 4th,

Jeff