The Oppenheimer Report - 2/26/18

The weekend before last was snowmobile central up here on our little lake. It seemed like anybody and everybody with a sled was out on the lake that weekend. It was really the first weekend all winter when I did see a lot of sledders out, because the weather has been so changeable. With the extreme temperature variations, it has not been safe to take machines out on the lakes. Indeed, even the annual Kearney dogsled races had to be cancelled last weekend, because conditions were deemed too dangerous for mushers to run the course. When I saw all those snow machines out on the lake, I wanted to take my ATV out, but could not find time that weekend. With rain in the forecast, and puddles on the lake, I think I have now missed my chance. I’m wondering how the owners of the one ice hut on our lake will be able to remove it safely. This winter, and really the past several winters, have been a series of extreme freeze-thaw cycles, not great for winter sports. Right now, our sloped driveway is a bobsled run.  

I don’t really mind the winter or the cold all that much, and in fact I prefer it to extreme heat. The proper winter gear helps immeasurably. This includes snowmobile overalls, good, knee high, lined winter boots, and heated gloves. My hands were always my Achilles heel, but my new heated gloves with lithium ion rechargeable batteries really keep my hands warm. When I was a little boy, growing up in Buffalo, I wore “leggings” in the winter. Mom would bundle me up, hand me my “flying saucer’ and throw me outside to play in the snow. Trouble was, I was virtually immobilized by all the cumbersome outerwear and could hardly move my arms or legs. I felt like the Michelin Man. Now I’m back to wearing “leggings’ again, but they are not quite so restrictive. Outerwear in general has come a long way since I was a boy.

Speaking of winter, Shauna and I watched a good deal of the 2018 Winter Olympics in PyeongChang and, as usual, the televised coverage on CBC was fantastic. Some of the freestyle skiing and snowboarding events were remarkable, and I enjoyed the figure skating as well. Canada ranked an impressive 4^th in overall for the number of medals earned (29 in all, ahead of the U.S.A. but behind Norway and Germany). Probably my favorite Canadian Gold was the “Big Air” event won by Quebec snowboarder Sebastien Toutant. I remember watching the first snowboard competition back in 1998 during the Nagano Winter Olympics, and I am amazed by how far the sport has come since then. Of course, one of the best Canadian gold medal stories had to be Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir winning the ice dancing competition. The fact that they’d retired and then came back to become Olympic champions was noteworthy, and it was inspiring to see them end their 20+ year career as an ice dancing couple on such a high note. Of course, there were also some disappointments along the way, most notably the Canadian men’s and women’s hockey upsets. I did enjoy watching the nail-biter gold medal Men’s Hockey final between Russia and Germany. I realize that there is great skill involved, but as much as I have tried, I don’t think I will ever become a curling fan.

Final notes. Thanks to Hunters Bay Radio as always, for placing my song New Constitution at #3 in their weekly Top 20 charts last Friday night. I wrote that song recently, and it falls into the category of righteous indignation about the current state of political chaos in the United States. I appreciate the recognition, and I feel honored that some of the locals enjoy my songs. I never in my forty years of songwriting thought this would ever happen. Coming up on April 17^th I’ll be performing some of my songs at the Gravenhurst Opera House in a songwriting show including talented singer songwriter Angie Nussey. I’m stoked about that. Next stop, Massey Hall! 

            - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 2/19/18

As I begin writing this report I am listening to E.T.’s Martini Music show on Hunters Bay Radio. This week, E.T. has dedicated the entire show to Vic Damone, who passed away last week. Vic had been a dear friend of the Taylor family for decades, and I’ve heard many Vic stories told over the past 25 years. The other night, while we were talking to E.T. on the phone, I set the phone to speaker and recorded some of her reminiscences. Because she was unaware she was being recorded, she told her stories spontaneously and naturally. The reason I recorded these stories, is that Shauna thought we could use them in E.T.’s radio show. I produce her Martini Music show, and we decided it would be a good idea to edit the recording and use clips in between sets of the tribute show. It turned out to be a great success, and because of Shauna’s efforts to advertise the show, a lot of Vic Damone fans heard the show, or will hear it when it is archived (https://soundcloud.com/user106713574/vic-damone-tribute-show-21818-on-martini-music ).

Did you ever find a product you like, a dish soap, or toothpaste, or cosmetic, or something else, then someone at the company decides to improve what didn’t need improving? Shauna is chemical and fragrance sensitive, and when we finally found an acceptable dish soap fragrance, someone decides to modify the formula. The other thing I find irksome is companies that use almost identical packaging for different products. I bought three boxes of tooth paste the other day, and they looked identical to the toothpaste we use, except for one tiny little icon (which of course I did not notice) on the corner of the box which indicated that it is gel not paste.

Today, a notification popped up on my computer screen from an old high school English teacher of mine, who often posts links to interesting articles. This article concerned the use of social media as a vehicle for spreading moral outrage and hateful rhetoric. Today is Family Day, and I enjoy seeing all the Facebook photos of families enjoying their day together. In fact, pictures are my favorite part about Facebook. I’ve been watching my nieces and nephews grow up in Facebook photos. But the foul underbelly of Facebook is that it is also a platform for every half-baked political rant and lunatic with an opinion or an agenda. You’re either with us or against us, and the divisiveness is discouraging. I sometimes need a “Facebook holiday” to regroup. Agree to disagree, but show a modicum of respect for others who do not share your opinion! I don’t as a rule copy and paste to my page people’s righteously indignant opinions about mental health or corrupt politicians. Indeed, I rant in this report, but one would have to be following the report link to read it, and you can always choose not to read. I recently wrote a first draft for a song with the chorus … “Follow the lessons you teach your children: agree to disagree.” I can’t fix the gun lobby problem in the U.S., or the propensity for a disturbingly large number of my fellow humans to hate each other’s religious beliefs, or the fast-eroding quality of leadership, or any of society’s other ills. Someone said it so simply the other day: try to do more good than bad. Be kind to a stranger, display a random act of kindness; turn the other cheek, count to ten before you react. Show some respect, or at least try to behave like an adult. I wish the truth was more apparent, but it isn’t, and it isn’t likely to be found on Facebook. Nevertheless, we can choose to be kind and respectful. Admittedly, I am the pot calling the kettle black. I should take my own advice

Happy Family Day everyone!

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/12/18

It’s one of my duties at Hunters Bay Radio to upload to SoundCloud all the talk shows recorded at HBR during the week. People who are so inclined can then listen to the shows on demand by going to the SoundCloud HBR podcast page. One of the mandates of community radio is to provide a certain percentage of talk radio, and Hunters Bay Radio features some good local shows. My particular favorite is a show is called Food For Thought and is hosted by my friend, Catherine Cole. Catherine owns a local health food store, and she very effectively explains why it matters what we put in our bodies. While I was loading in the shows from the last week, I listened to a little of another local show, called The Car Show, dealing as you would expect with all things car related. I learned why the 1990s inline six cylinder engine used in the Toyota Celica was a remarkable motor, specifically for it’s ease of modification.  

Learning machine that I am, I like to listen to talk radio, and I especially enjoy listening  when I’m in the car. When we still lived in Toronto, I used to listen to Talk Radio AM 640, and I particularly enjoyed the call in shows. When I lived in Buffalo, I used to listen to Howard Stern, before he was given free reign on satellite radio, and when he was at his most outrageous. I once had to pull over to the side of the road because one of Howard’s rants had me laughing so hard.  

Whenever Shauna and I went on a road trip, we listened to talk radio. I distinctly remember driving through the moonless, starlit spring darkness somewhere around Wawa, Ontario, lost in the captivating, if incredible science fiction of Art Bell’s syndicated Coast To Coast show. There I was, at 

3 A.M. in the middle of nowhere, with no one else on the road, and Shauna asleep beside me, listening to some guy spout off about the Kenndy assassination. Alien abductions, sinister conspiracies, monsters, shadow people; you name it, you’d hear about it on the  Coast To Coast show. George Noory has taken over the hosting duties, but I think Bell is still on from time to time.

We’ve been watching the Winter Olympics competitions which began last week in PyeongChang, S. Korea, and I’ve particularly enjoyed watching the slopestyle snowboarding. Some of those aerial acrobatics are simply amazing to watch. Last night, two Canadians made the podium in that competition. I’ve also enjoyed the figure skating. As always, CBC coverage has been fantastic, and I’ve even begun to appreciate curling. It may take a little more time. I’m looking forward to watching the skiing competitions, and especially the Giant Slalom and Downhill races.

Finally, it is with sadness that I acknowledge the passing of one of the world’s great crooners; Vic Damone, a dear friend of the Taylor family, has passed on at the age of 89. Sinatra once said Vic Damone had the best pipes in the business, and I think most pros would agree. For various reasons, most which have to do with the ubiquitous dysfunction of the music business, Vic did not achieve the fame of other crooners like Sinatra, Bennett or Crosby. Shauna and I first met because I’d heard that Vic had recorded one of her songs. I’m sorry I never had the opportunity to meet him in person. As I have mentioned more than once, Shauna’s 93 year-old mom ET hosts a show on Sunday nights called Martini Music, and that show always begins with the song Shauna and ET wrote and Vic Damone covered, entitled Every Time I Look At You. RIP Vic Damone, you will be missed.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/5/18

A word about groundhogs.

Since my very first moments of cognitive development, not long after I learned that throwing my cornflakes on the floor in a petulant frenzy could demand the attention of my parents, I followed the teaching of the world’s most famous weather rodent, Punxatawny Phil. A truth seeker, Phil was the John Lennon of weather rodents, a leader, and icon, a mentor. Admittedly, I’ve never completely understood the science behind shadow watching, but like religion, or politics, or reality television, it’s just one of those things I’ve accepted. Just as slaughtering one’s fellow man demonstrates one’s allegiance to G-d; lying, cheating, and stealing are the fundamental principles of politics; so is it one of the somewhat incredible constants of the universe that groundhogs can predict the advent of spring.

That said, not all groundhogs are created equal. There are imposters out there in every community, groundhogs who claim to have the secret powers bestowed upon the almighty Phil. Do not be fooled by the “Nickelbacks” of the groundhog world. Wannabe weather rodents, lacking the proper credentials or skills, abound. Shadow reading is a gift, and something only one or two groundhogs in the world may ever know. It’s rather like being born a Jedi warrior. All the other groundhog posers are like all those Seattle grunge band clones that try to imitate Nirvana or Pearl Jam.

We in Canada harbor many of these wannabe forecasters. The most bizarre example is Lucy the Lobster in Nova Scotia and I’m sorry, there is nothing more foolish than suggesting that a lobster can predict the weather. Many years ago, in the 90s when I first moved up to Toronto, there was a huge controversy over the death of local weather groundhog “Wiarton Willie”. Much was made over his suspicious death. Because Willie was an albino groundhog, it was a little harder to make a “seemless” transition to his successor. Hey, I have grudgingly accepted that the current Phil is not over 100 years ago, even though his legendary prowess dates back to the late 1800s. I mean, how many Lassies do you figure there were over the span of that television program? Some of them probably weren’t even females. It’s called suspension of disbelief, and I am OK with my denial. I digress. Willie’s death was shrouded in mystery, and at the time, it was a big scandal. Documents were shredded, lurid stories emerged about a spoiled life of debauchery and excess. When the scandal broke, I interviewed several of Willie’s  family members, and the general consensus was that Willie succumbed to drugs, alcohol, and sex addiction. Twas Booty killed the beast. I thought all those celebrity groundhogs had handlers, but I think Willie’s dropped the ball. It’s an old and familiar story: showbiz ain’t pretty.

Be forewarned, there are a few PT Barnums out there in the animal kingdom, cashing in on the celebrity of weather rodent forecasting. Let Willie’s death serve as a reminder to all the Staten Island Chucks, Dunkirk Daves, Potomac Phils (D.C.), Subenacadie Sams, Fred la Marmottes (Quebec), etc. … You’ve got to be special to pull the sword out of the stone. Punxatawny Phil is the real deal. The rest of you may talk the talk, but can you waddle the waddle? I think not.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED