The Oppenheimer Report - 11/17/14

Jasper surveys the latest snowfall

Apparently we missed the starting gun for winter … I was not prepared! We were a little late scheduling an appointment to have our snow tires put on. After the first significant snowfall a few weeks ago, we called to schedule a service appointment, but the dealership where we store our snow tires was so backed up, it was a week before we could be penciled in. Shauna and I have had three occasions to travel south in the past week or two, twice to Orillia and once to Barrie. Both of these places are in the heart of Ontario’s snow belt, and on two of those three trips, we experienced blinding snow squalls. One minute the sky was clear and the next minute we could not see the cars directly in front of us. It’s feakin’ mid-November! Today, I went to Burk’s Falls for my first physiotherapy session and I was a little concerned about getting out of our driveway. Yesterday, we had a lake effect squall that dumped about 8-10 inches of wet snow (see photo above). Thankfully, our snowplow guy was on top of the situation, or I would have been in trouble. It could be a long winter up here in the near north.

Last Monday I got the green light from my surgeon to begin physiotherapy on my shoulder. I no longer need to wear a sling, and the arm feels pretty good. Today’s session at the physiotherapist involved assessing my current range of motion and taking benchmark measurements to gauge future improvement.  I’m a little sore now, but my incentive is that, once things have loosened up a bit, I might again be able to hold a guitar for longer than ten minutes without discomfort.  I’ll do whatever it takes in order to get my strength and mobility back. I won’t do anything until the therapist gives me the go ahead, but I have a lot of songs brewing in my head, and I'm eager to get that guitar back in my hands.

 

Some of my songwriter friends up here are putting out a Christmas album of songs for the holidays, and I believe most or all of those songs are originals. I got a sneak preview the other day of a song written by my friend Scott Gilson and his partner Amber. It’s called Anticipate and Scott, famous for his unusual guitar tunings, has created a beautifully hypnotic melody for this one. I love the song and I’m looking forward to hearing what the other artists have to contribute as well. All the proceeds for the sale of the CD will go to local food banks, and this is the kind of music project that truly reflects the holiday spirit. Personally, I was never a fan of Christmas, for all the obvious reasons. My songs about Christmas – and I have written two so far – are, not surprisingly, a little dark. The first one is called Nothing Comes for Free and it is a preachy, self-righteous song (Jamie Oppenheimer, preachy and self-righteous? Preposterous!) about the excessive materialism of the Christmas holiday. It is so frightfully dismal and depressing I dare not play it in public, or for anyone really. Thematically, this song lies somewhere between Edgar Allen Poe and Dickens, complete with starving paupers and destitute homeless geriatrics, freezing to death on street corners… a real toe tapper. Sometimes I need to get a song like that out of my system … like diarrhea. A second more recent song I wrote, entitled Merry Christmas to Me, is I think a much stronger song, written from personal experience. When I was sixteen, still living in Buffalo, and during the height of my rebellious youth, I and my cousin John hitched downtown to go to a wild Christmas party. We were picked up by a guy dressed as Santa, driving a beat up red Ford Van  - one of those older hippie vans with the cool headlights. In the passenger seat was another guy, dressed as and elf, and the two of them were half in the bag, drinking Jack Daniels out of the bottle, smoking a joint, and I’m guessing high some kind of hallucinogen as well. Exhibiting the good judgment that so effectively guided me through my teen years, I had no problem accepting a ride from these toasted gentleman, and the song tells the story of that memorable, snowy night. There’s a little hyperbole and poetic license thrown in for good measure, but the message of that song, while somewhat grim, is more focused and personal.

 

Western New Yorkers pride themselves on their ability to party, and while zero tolerance is a good rule by which to abide, back in the 70’s I’ll wager that at least a third of my hometown City of Buffalo was drunk or stoned for most of the month of December. There is even an internet joke I have seen more than once, depicting a driver’s view of an icy road …  the caption reads something like … “Most other drivers would look at this situation and panic, but a Western New Yorker says “Hey. Hold my beer and watch this!” Not entirely untrue.

 

“I used to live my life spontaneously

Embellishing my clouded memories

I viewed the future apprehensively

But that was long before your love came to me.”

 

I may not drink anymore, but I still embellish my clouded memories; I am still the rebel without a clue. If you do plan to party - and by all means, knock yourselves out - find yourself a designated driver, or take a cab. Do not, under any circumstances accept a ride from a guy smoking a joint, drinking hard liquor out of the bottle, and pretending to be Santa; that’s a “red flag.” Santa would never do that.

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED