The Oppenheimer Report 8/29/08

Once again, I am in Olympics withdrawal mode. We watched part of the closing ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics on Sunday, and it was almost as spectacular as the opening ceremonies. Them Chinese sure know how to put on a good show. I loved the fireworks. Clearly, they have no problem recruiting volunteers; there were over 500,000 (mandatory) volunteers involved in this international event. I watched quite a lot of the Olympics competitions this year, including many of swimming and running events. I even caught some of the controversial gymnastics competition wherein scoring was suspect. In one case, a tie-breaker was ultimately decided in favor of the host country, and there was quite a lot of discussion about the impartiality of that decision. The judges were not Chinese, but these days, I wonder if political influences had anything to do with the scoring. I am reminded of the figure skating scandal in the recent winter Olympics. I watched several events I’d never seen before. I’ve never before seen a mountain bike event, nor had I ever watched synchronized diving. Armchair quarterback that I am, I found myself judging the divers as they performed. This one made too big a splash … that one’s legs were too far apart …those two were out of sync. That’s part of the fun of the Olympics for me, deciding who should get what score.

At present, we are embroiled in a controversial land issue regarding a road allowance which abuts our land in Katrine. When we traded our next door neighbor some of our water frontage in return for some of his back land, we became eligible to purchase a portion of unopened road allowance owned (I believe) by Armour Township. The rule is that we can apply to purchase half the width of the road allowance, in other words 33 feet, which abuts our land. We applied to acquire the entire 66 feet, reasoning that the owner on the other side would have no use for this land. As so often happens in land issues – and I saw this quite a bit in my 25 years of real estate experience – neighbors get strange when something might change near their property. We have no need for the land we are applying to acquire, other than that it provides a buffer against public access. Somehow, one of the neighbors – the one with whom we didn’t trade land -- who has been particularly difficult and combative wherein our construction project is concerned, has riled up the other neighbors, and is protesting our application. Angry letters have been sent to the town indicating to me that the authors have no idea what is being contemplated. There has been so much misinformation disseminated about this proposed land purchase that I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that everyone thinks we’re contemplating the construction of a massage parlor. I’m not sure the Dali Lama could bring about a peaceful solution to this mess, but I have spent much of the past two weeks in damage control mode. I have met with nervous neighbors and written a long, carefully worded explanation of exactly what we hope to achieve, clearly pointing that no construction is contemplated, and that none of our proposed acquisition really changes anything influencing anyone’s property but our own. Of course, carefully writing something and insuring that it is carefully read are two very different things. In any event, I hope that the truth will prevail in the end and, if town politics (read fear of litigation) quashes this acquisition, then so be it. And speaking of disinformation…

I watched Barack Obama’s big ”I’m the Man” speech at the Democratic Convention tonight, which coincided with the 45th anniversary of the Martin Luther King “I Have a Dream” speech. Obama’s an impressive orator, and that is a refreshing change over Dubya’s pathetic inability to string words together. Nevertheless, talk is cheap, and it seems no politicians ever deliver the goods. I am reminded of Papa Bush’s infamous “read my lips” comments so many years ago. Secretly, I hope Obama wins, because I want to believe that the disenfranchised middle class will once again become invested in the American political system. My worry is that, just as Bush proved to be too far to the right, Obama will prove to be equally far to the left. Was it Socrates who said “nothing in excess”? The Republicans will try and portray Obama as weak on international matters, and the Democrats will, of course, point out McCain’s similarities to the failed Bush administration. In the end, come November, it will boil down to the same beauty contest it has always been. As I’ve said before, if the Dems can’t win this one then, just as the Toronto Maple Leafs are now doing, it may be time to “rebuild from the ground up”.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 8/18/08

First of all, I need to acknowledge Shauna's 50th birthday, which took place last Thursday. Because of the insanity which has characterized our life over the past year (actually, the past three years), we chose a simple but meaningful celebration with immediate family. I think it was the right call, and I'm pretty sure Shauna had a good time.

Soul singer Isaac Hayes passed away last week at the age of 65. He penned a lot of good songs, and he was a definitive musical influence in the genre of soul music. In my opinion, the theme from “Shaft” was not one of his greatest efforts, but that is perhaps his most recognizable song. I have a great live recording of Hayes playing the Sands in Vegas, which I inherited from my late brother-in-law Jordan. I don’t think it added anything to the news story of Hayes’ demise to point out that he was found “collapsed next to his treadmill”. When I think of Isaac Hayes, I picture him donned in his badass chains and leather; I don’t want to picture one of the world’s coolest musicians, sprawled out on the carpet wearing some polyester gym suit, clutching a bottle of Gatorade. Indeed, there is no dignity in death, but I feel the reporting of a celebrity’s demise should be limited to that which killed him or her. Keep it brief and leave it to family and friends (or the National Enquirer) to reveal the details. Of course, there are exceptions to that rule. If, for instance, the celebrity is someone we collectively can’t stand, and his or her death was bizarre, then I want the details. If the once notorious Joey Buttafuoco should be squished into a pulpy mass of pureed fat and mangled organs by an auto wrecking machine, under questionable circumstances (read mob hit), by all means, give me the gory details. Comedian Bernie Mac also passed away last week, and he was only 52.

The Beijing Summer Olympics started a little over a week ago, and last week, I was so pre-occupied with a story about my own personal appearance, that I neglected to mention how impressed I was with the opening ceremonies. They were simply spectacular. This is a truly momentous event … China is being opened up – with obvious monitoring – for the world to see. Eager to eradicate the ominous specter of tank mashings in Tiananmen Square, and the reports of repressive censorship and human rights violations, China has a massive public relations opportunity to present herself as “just like the rest of us.” We all want to reassure ourselves that the world’s biggest economic force, and most formidable trading partner, is just as addicted to Big Macs and Chevys as the rest of us. Don’t we in the Western world secretly crave cultural homogeneity? Of course, Canada’s CBC covers the entire event, not just in bits and pieces like NBC. I particularly enjoyed hearing the Chinese national anthem … I think it’s entitled “March of the Volunteers”. Perhaps they should revise that title to include the adjective “mandatory”. Does anyone else wonder how a repressive communist country as strong as China, with as much economic influence as China has on the rest of the world, deals with the influences of the ever-expanding “free world”? Do westerners now become more repressive (some would argue we are already), or does China bend? At some point, a tsunami of information and free world permissiveness will wash over that country, and then perhaps the levee will break. I only hope it doesn’t result in a world war. Perhaps there will be no more world wars. Future conflicts may focus on economic hegemonies. When GM is swallowed up by some Chinese conglomerate, then it may be time to brush up on your Mandarin. Moo Shu Big Macs anyone?

Finally, I heard that there’s a new handbook being handed out to Catholic priests which outlines appropriate and inappropriate physical contact with children. I wonder if there is a handbook instructing the violators on how to undo the emotional devastation they cause when they abuse their young victims. Pats on the rump, bear hugs and kisses are among the examples of inappropriate behavior. Oh yes, sodomy is in there somewhere as well. Is it possible that a grown man does not understand that sodomizing a child is inappropriate behavior? I don’t think the handbook is going to stop the sodomizers … perhaps fear of castration might be a more effective deterrent.

Last note, a propos to nothing, if I have an aversion to snakes, does this mean I have a reptile dysfunction?

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 8/11/08

This has been a summer of significant change, and in keeping with that theme, the other day I shaved off the beard I have worn for the past ten or more years. I grew it one summer out in Banff, and I’ve had it ever since. People do all sorts of things to change their appearance; they change their hair style, or wear different clothing, fix their crooked teeth, buy a Ferrari. Change of appearance can be healthy, if only to mix things up a bit. Nothing is irreversible, right? Well, maybe a botched nose job. I never used to consider myself particularly vain, but of late I have been looking at myself a lot in the mirror, literally and figuratively. It’s strange how I could have looked at my face for all these years, and somehow have ignored my aging. When I grew the beard, it came in salt and pepper grey; I suppose that should have been a red flag. I have found that, from about thirty-five on, denial has been my constant companion. I bask in the embellished memories of my ill-spent youth, I have the emotional maturity of a sixteen year-old, and somehow, I have managed to ignore the old man staring back at me in the mirror for the past ten or more years. One day, about a week ago, that old man who looked back at me in the mirror looked like “Festus” from Gunsmoke, and that was a sobering, existential moment. I came to the abrupt realization that I am about twenty years older than I feel, and I no longer wanted to look any older than I have to. Shauna and her parents preferred me with a beard, but my parents have always hated it. Because I was going down to visit them a few weeks ago, I figured I’d use that as an excuse to finally present myself clean-shaven.

I suppose that one of the reasons I kept the beard for so long is that I am lazy. It is much easier to trim a beard twice a week than it is to shave daily. As well, having endured years of severe adolescent acne, I now have what my skin doctor euphemistically referred to as the “rugged look.” The rugged look makes shaving more of a challenge. I didn’t really think things through before I made this abrupt decision, and I suddenly realized that, after ten years, I no longer owned an electric shaver. Manual shaving on a regular basis is out of the question, because I do not enjoy walking around with bloody pieces of Kleenex stuck to my face. In ten years, I’ve probably gone through three electric beard trimmers, but haven’t owned a new electric shaver in perhaps twenty years. I did some reconnaissance at Shoppers Humongous Drug Store to investigate my electric shaver options, and experienced sticker shock. Any of their acceptable options were over one hundred-fifty bucks. Thank goodness for Wal-Mart, where I was able to procure a perfectly adequate floating head rechargeable shaver for just under sixty bucks.

Final notes on this momentous event. For some reason, which probably has something to do with narcissism, I presumed other people who know me would notice the change, but the reaction of peripheral friends and acquaintances was resoundingly apathetic. I assumed that this radical change in my appearance would elicit responses ranging from shock to awe, but no. Some people remarked that I had cut my hair. One person thought I had shaved off my mustache. Someone else noticed that I had gone bald. About fifteen years ago I did in fact go bald. Anyhow, I shaved my beard, the earth is still revolving on its axis, and the universe appears to be in tact. I wonder if anyone would notice if I pierced my nose with a fish hook and dyed what’s left of my hair green and yellow. Clearly a “Mohawk” is not an option.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 8/4/08

I don’t know if it was the high humidity and strange weather, or if there was something in the air, but last week was high stress and full of negative energy. Even the dog was nuts. It seems as if, now that we are coming down to the fit and finish stage of the house, very little is going as planned. Last Thursday, amidst frantic phone calls to rectify an incorrect materials order, and the discovery that all our pine flooring was randomly oversized, throwing off a carefully designed plank pattern, and a myriad of other disheartening surprises, scheduling conflicts, unexpected delays, etc., we got a call from our landlord in Burk’s Falls to let us know that August was our last month in this rented bungalow, because he’s decided to put it up for sale. We counted on being up here until our house was completed, and had been moving things up to this rental house over the summer. I sure don’t want to be carting everything back to the apartment in Toronto, only to have to bring it up again. After some begging and pleading, I may have convinced the landlord to allow us stay a little longer, by agreeing to let him show the house as he needs to. Still, if he cannot sell the house and secures a longer term tenant, we’re history with thirty days notice. To add to the stress, Shauna has some mysterious infection which was not eradicated by a first course of anti-biotic medicine, and she has been down for the count for about two weeks. We spoke to the doctor the other day, and may need to go back for another prescription. At present, we are a bit conflobbulated.

Always, after a week such as the one we just had, it is a good idea to pause, take a deep breath, remove ourselves from the immediacy of whatever minor problems we are addressing, and to remind ourselves how truly blessed we are and have been. None of these petty aggravations amount to a hill of beans; no one important to us is in the hospital, we have not lost our life savings in a flood, or a hurricane, or a tornado, we are not mourning the loss of the majority of our family in some senseless terrorist act, and we have both been raised in a loving and supportive family environment. In other words, we’re in the top 1 percentile of the luckiest people in the world.

I frequently listen to CBC radio talk shows when I’m in the basement workshop refinishing windows, dying hemp rope for wall trim, or one of the other creative projects I am doing in my spare time. The other day, there was a show dealing with the pursuit of and the myths surrounding happiness. Generally speaking, it seems clear that happiness has less to do with one’s circumstances than with one’s capability to adjust one’s attitude. An African man, who had endured unspeakable atrocities in his homeland and was now living in Montreal, had an amazingly upbeat perspective on his life. Alternatively, celebrities and people with “everything to live for” frequently self-destruct. The myth that fame and fortune are the benchmarks of happiness has historically proven to be untrue, but what does make us happy? Prozac? LSD? Dr. Phil? With all the figurative snake oil advertised out there, clearly there a lot of unhappy people in the world. In that CBC radio show I mentioned, it was proposed that North Americans are more materialistic than any other group. Will a Corvette make me happy … or a big log home on a lake? I know they won't, and I also know what will. Try and live my life un-intrusively. Don’t hurt anyone, and especially anyone I love. Be honest, with myself and with those around me. Periodically indulge in a random act of kindness to a stranger. Stay connected with the people and the world around me (something I have been woefully under-achieving of late). Learn to laugh at myself and life’s folly. Don’t take myself too seriously. Be charitable: to give love and wealth is more gratifying than to receive them. These are the bits of advice on happiness I have gleaned over my 52 years. Learning to practice them is another story. You can call it happiness, or contentment, or balance, or whatever label you choose. The fact remains; no one else can make it happen. I only hope I can learn to “walk the walk” before I leave this earth. I don't want to come back in the next life as fish bait. Karma's a bitch. At this very moment, I feel contentment, and it’s better than any intoxicant I’ve ever ingested. I wrote a song a while ago about this moment, and I called “Scrapbook”. The last verse and chorus are as follows:

“We’re at the table sipping coffee, silence fills the room/ Out on the lake we hear the calling of a distant loon/ And when our life turns difficult, as it will someday soon/ I’ll open up my scrapbook to this sunny afternoon … cho: Because I just want this moment to survive all our life/Something to hold on to every day of our life/ Carry us through all the trying times/ Capture the contentment, in the scrapbook of my mind..”

May we all find peace of mind and happiness in this life. I'm working on it!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED