Lessons my Mom taught...

me.

“You can observe a lot by just watching.” 

Yogi Berra

Clara Sambur was called back to Heaven when she was just 52. I was a distraught seventeen year old when she was taken in 1972. I always felt cheated in losing her at such an impressionable age. 

Yet my diminutive Mom made a major impact of me in her subtle understated ways. I learned a lot by watching her. Her classes were mostly visual instead of tutorial. 

Here’s a few examples of Mom’s lessons:

Begin each and every human encounter with a smile. (Unless it’s a totally inappropriate situation. IE. A funeral.) 

Always offer food/drink to anyone who enters or approaches your home (or Van.)

Hugs are an acceptable form of greeting with family and friends.

Public displays of affection are fine too.

Be polite.

Value Education.

Savor silence.

To check a child for fever, tenderly place your cheek against their forehead. 

Read a book in quiet times.

Keep smiling.

Thanks Mom for all that you taught me. I wish the lessons didn’t end when I just a teenager. 

I still miss you.

Last photo: Deep down inside I’m really a Jewish Mother in a short man’s body.

Happy Mom’s Day to all you Motherly Mentors.

Cheers!

Jeff

Seeking Contentment in the Land of...

Thirst and Desiccation.

I’ve been on a protracted tour of my personal Happy Places. Beginning with Grand Canyon National Park, I took time outs in Zion NP, Kodachrome State Park, Grand Staircase/Escalante National Monument, Capitol Reef NP and Canyonlands NP. My sprint journey finished up in Great Sand Dunes NP. 

I made a five night R&R stop in Durango, Colorado as well. 

For the most part, the weather was mild to marvelous. I slept with Benedict the Van’s windows ajar. All my campsites had enticing views. My neighbors were respectful and quiet. I saw a few new gorgeous places and got reacquainted with Old Buddy hikes too. My Utah contraband stash of IPAs stayed cold. I expelled many sighs of contentment. Once again,  my World was silent and serene. Happy Times.

There’s a commonality to all these sublime low humidity landscapes. They are all a few hours or a day’s drive from Durango, Colorado. Location, location, location. Did I mention the San Juan Mountains (Colorado’s most beguiling Range) are practically straddling Durango’s lap? Armed with a 4x4 pick-up truck with a camper topping it,  a wanderer can explore for ages. There’s heaps to see around here. Most of it is Virgin Territory to me. 

It’s for the above reasons and scads of others, I’ve plunked down a deposit on a tri-level townhouse beginning on August 1st. It’s a walking distance to Durango’s restaurants, brewpubs, library, pot dispensaries, movie theaters and grocery stores. The unit has an east facing balcony which will be a perfect fit for a Weber Grill. The place is already furnished in a Macho Southwest motif. ( I reckon, I’ll start wearing a cowboy hat.) There’s two bedrooms and three bathrooms with flush toilets.  There’s hot and cold running water. The kitchen is equipped with more than a Coleman Stove and Cooler. (That’s a good thing) The unit has a washer and dryer. There’s over 100 TV channels to veg out over. It has loads of storage space which I won’t come close to filling. 

I’m still a Minimalist. 

After existing for seven years in the Van’s 66 square feet of living area, the townhouse will feel like the Taj Mahal with electricity. I’m joining the World of Grown Ups. I’ll now be a home owner by choice. No longer will I have to stammer an answer when someone asked me, “Where do you live?” 

This might take some getting used to. 

Wish me luck.

Cheers! 

Jeff

“Jeffy! You have to be your own Doctor”

were the wise words of advice Sid Sambur imparted upon me time and time again. Recently, I  paid attention to what my Dad once said.

If you’ve been following along, one needn’t be a Doctor Joyce Brothers to figure out my mindset has been off. Sure, I get the Blues, the funk and feelings of melancholy. (Doesn’t everybody?) 

Yet, this episode had been different. This duration outperformed the 2010/2011 almost back to back sedans vs. bicyclist accidents which left me hobbled mentally and physically. I stressed if I was ever going to get my active life back. Fortunately it takes more than being smashed by two sedans to really debilitate me!  When I realized I would fully recover, my mood brightened immediately.

On this go around, I left America with a few months of feeling lowdown above the neckline. I went to Australia (a place I always enjoyed in my previous five visits) with hopes of hiking to pretty places and meeting more of those laid back locals. I thought the trip would provide me a needed attitude adjustment. It didn’t happen. I wasn’t getting my minimum daily requirement of exercise or “Oo Ah!” views. I was dropping a lot of coin to lose fitness, gain fatness, and spend inordinate amounts of time alone. After awhile I capitulated to the greasy fish and chips and Aussie IPAs. I set my feel good sights on the Grand Canyon and beyond. 

In the meantime, a few observant friends picked up my vibe. They showed genuine concern and asked me, “How’re you doing?” When I answered “Not so good.” They heaped me with well intentioned advice. IE: Prozac, Valium, Ambien, seeing a therapist and to get a dog. I told all those nice people, “Wait awhile. Wait awhile.I think the Grand Canyon backpack trip with Brad (my Brother from another Mother) will fix me.” 

But first! I had to deal with a still gimpy knee. How would I go up and down dicey trails with a dodgy knee? By modern chemistry, that’s how. God Bless titanium strong anti-inflammatory meds, and shots of fresh squeezed cortisone. At this point, I was more concerned about my mental well being than exasperating a knee injury. 

As Brad and I descended into the “Big Ditch” (into pummeling winds and a short burst of White Death), I felt my angst and worries begin to fall away. On day three, I sat by the Colorado River and watched and listened to it’s soothing sound. By day five, I gazed at the stars and a rising moon. By day six, I suffered up the Tanner trail with a wring-your-shirt-out sweat. 

That was a good thing. 

After parting ways with my mellow non-judgement Bro, I headed to a cheap hotel with a soft bed in Kanab, Utah. There I slept extremely well. When I awoke, I looked at a stranger in the mirror. I was legitimately smiling for the first time in months. I was back! 

Sid was right. You have to be your own Doctor. 

Now the Public Service Announcement part of this blog. 

We now live in harsh times of bluster, bravado and bullying. Basic human traits such as humility, empathy, generosity, honesty, politeness, compassion and civility are almost looked upon as weaknesses. Personally. I think it’s a shame. Maybe everyone is too BUSY to take the time to be more humane and caring. 

I’ll end this with a simple suggestion, and it won’t cost you a thing except a little of your time.

If someone you know seems a bit “off” and wants to talk. (I mean really converse, not text) It’s probably not the time to look up at the sky and say, “Nice day, if it don’t rain!” in a lame attempt to change the subject. Hear them out. Most of the time they aren’t looking for advice or answers. They just need to vent. Remember, one day you might be the one who is “off.”

For those of you who allowed me to recently vent. A sincere Thank You. 

Choose kindness.

Cheers!

Jeff