The Oppenheimer Report 2/23/09

I wonder if it is a coincidence that the ads I’m now getting in my email box correspond to my aging baby boomer status. Amidst the plethora of ads promising me a four hour erection (how did they know?) – and I understand that everyone gets those, the ads, I mean - I am now receiving a daily dose of offers for free colon cleansing, anti-aging pills, and a myriad of other snake oil solutions to my inevitable downward health spiral. I’m guessing those ads don’t go out to the “tweens” and “X-ers” ... just us decaying “Boomers”. Holy Ponce De Leon, Batman, is it that obvious? As medicine improves, and as we become more educated about the benefits of good nutrition, and about our health in general, we WILL many of us live longer lives. Therein sits the ethical dilemma. If, through science and technology, we manage to increase the lifespan of the average human being, but we do nothing about the quality of that human being’s life, is that progress? I’m now watching my father wrestle with the end stages of his life, physically and emotionally, and it is much more difficult than I’d ever imagined it would be, for him or for me. I don’t want him to die. Selfishly, I will always want him to remain my pillar of strength, there when I need him. But at 98, what does he want? I don’t think we ask this question of ourselves, and more important, we don’t really listen to those most affected by the issue.

Now I’m likely to cross that arbitrarily drawn line of political correctness. Pro Choice, and I am Pro Choice, should be a dialogue about the beginning AND the end of our lives. I strongly value life, all life, but I also value the rights of the individual. What a person of faith chooses to do is his or her business, but do not force those beliefs on me. Dr. Kervorkian was vilified for his actions, and in fact euthanasia is still a dirty word in our society. This is clearly a complicated subject, and I am not entirely sure how I feel about it. I’m not one of those who agrees with the logic that “we euthanize out pets to spare them pain, why do we not do the same for our aged?” Of course, one of the major obstacles, presented by those who oppose the concept, is the potential for abuse. “Let’s put Grampa down, because he’s lived long enough, and we want his money.” I suggest that human beings have free will, or at least some of us do, and should be given the choice of how they wish to carry out the end stages of their lives. Define some very clear and reasonable definition of the conditions under which euthanasia can legally be considered, and then leave it to the individual, whose compromised life is in question, to chose for him or herself. If you are diagnosed with some horrible terminal illness, and you choose not to suffer, then this would give you some control. It is really just an extrapolation of the DNR order, and going a little further than what Hospice offers. When I can no longer feed myself, clean myself, breath for myself; when I am in irreversible pain, let me choose to go gently. It seems so fundamentally simple, but it isn’t.

Final notes … Was it pilot error that brought down Fl 3407 outside of Buffalo last week? There is now a big debate about the use of auto pilot controls and the rules that should fall into place when icing occurs. The Dow has plunged 47% from record highs in October of 2007. Ouch. Australia is experiencing horrific wildfires, claiming over 200 casualties so far. President Obama received a hero’s welcome in Ottawa last Thursday. I wonder how long it will be before we all turn on him like a pack of angry hyenas. And under the heading of “Is ANYBODY responsible for his or her own actions???!” … I refer to two CNN clips. First, the drunk guy who was just awarded $2.3 Million after he was run over by a subway train. Potential Darwin Award winner Dustin Dibble was so drunk he doesn’t even remember falling onto the tracks of a NYC subway near Union Sq. Station, and a jury, in their infinite wisdom, decided it was the driver of the subway train who was at fault for running him over. Second, did you read about that infamous chimp attack in Connecticut? Some 200 lb. chimp named Travis went berserk, tore off some lady’s face, and had to be shot. Then, we find out that Travis’s owner fed him the drug Xanax shortly before the attack. Oops, I think they shot the wrong chimp! Speaking of anti-depressants, I wonder what ever happened to Michael Jackson’s flower chimp “Bubbles”? I’m guessing, it’s a permanent resident at the Betty Ford Clinic.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/16/09

I’m down in Buffalo again, and while I’m here, I try to spend as much quality time with each of my parents as I can. Last Thursday night, Dad and I were upstairs in his bedroom, watching an old Jimmy Stewart movie I’d never seen before (and I thought I’d seen them all), and after it was over, I went downstairs to check on Mom. She and the nurse were rapt in attention, watching live local coverage of the crash of Continental Fl. 3407, which had occurred in Clarence Center, N.Y. perhaps an hour earlier. All I could see on the television screen was the blinding glow of burning jet fuel. A chill went up my spine, because I suddenly had a déjà vu moment bringing me back to the morning of September 11th, 2001, when Shauna and I watched the events of the day unfold on CNN. While I didn’t suspect any foul play in this accident, I got the same eerie feeling I always get when I don’t yet have any solid information. It was so strange to be only about ten miles away from where the disaster occurred. I knew that there were going to be casualties, but not until the next morning did I find out how bad it really was. All I kept seeing was that inferno of burning jet fuel.

Shauna called first thing Friday morning from up North to ask if the crash was anywhere near where my parents lived. I assured her it took place well east of Downtown Buffalo. She’d been watching the overage on CNN. I turned on the tube and it was then that I learned 50 people had perished in this crash. Miraculously, two out of the three residents in the home into which the aircraft had crashed survived. The plane made a direct hit on the house, and it is a miracle that anyone got out of that mess alive.

That night, Dad and I sat in his bedroom and watched the struggling Buffalo Sabres play the league-leading San Jose Sharks. It was a roller coaster of a game; the Sabres were up a few goals early on, but then they were playing catch-up in the second half of the game, fighting to stay in the game near the end. In the last thirty seconds of regulation time they rallied to tie it up, and went on to win the game in a very dramatic overtime shootout. I was thankful to see such an exciting game with Dad. Over the years, I attended so many Sabres games with him in the now-half-demolished Buffalo Auditorium (see photo above). I thought it was fitting that the struggling Sabres gave their fans such a big win on the night after such a horrible disaster had rocked the community. Perhaps I’m reading too much into this David and Goliath win, but to me it was symbolic of characteristics I have always attributed to my home town. Despite a disparaging write up in a recent Forbes Magazine article, despite all the shenanigans of local politicians, despite the notoriously bad weather, which is actually something I like about WNY, Buffalo is still, in my mind, the City of Good Neighbors, full of friendly, good people, who come together when the chips are down.

Dad asked me to pick up some Valentine candy for Mom which he presented to her Saturday morning, along with an appropriately amusing card. They dined together that night in his bedroom and, while it was hardly a romantic candlelight dinner (beef stew “a la Jamie”), it was comforting to know that the two of them were sharing this universal holiday of lovers. After the tragic events of last week, I remind myself of the serendipitous nature of life. Some of us celebrate almost sixty Valentine’s with our partners, and some of us have our lives cut short. Much as we delude ourselves that we are in control of our destinies, none of us really are. Nobody knows how many exciting Sabres games he or she gets to watch. As my deceased brother-in-law used to say, “Don’t postpone joy”. These days, I take joy wherever I can find it. - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/9/09

My status as a citizen of Canada is that of a landed immigrant, or “landed ignorant” as I sometimes jokingly refer to myself. It used to be that I carried my landing document with me when I traveled back and forth to the U.S., but about six years ago, Canada began to issue permanent resident I.D. cards in lieu of the landing document. I would describe the process involved in acquiring said card as somewhat tedious, prone as I am to understatement. I don’t remember everything I had to do, but it was a big pain in the neck, and it took a long time for Canadian Immigration to issue me the card.

Jump ahead five years, and about three months ago, I noticed that my almost five year old PR Card had an expiry date, and guess what … it expired in January of 2009. It was actually January 11th, 2009 but I could not make out the eleven because it is obscured by a watermark. In fact the entire expiry date was practically unreadable. Silly me, I thought the card was good for as long as I was a permanent resident, surrendered if and when I moved back to the States. I guess that’s why I’m a landed ignorant, because I didn’t bother to read the fine print. By the way, when dealing with Canadian Immigration, it’s ALL fine print. Anyhow, I was a little surprised that there was no renewal notice, as there is with just about any other authorization card issued by the Canadian Government. If my health card needs to be renewed, I receive a notice. Same goes for my driver’s license, or for the registration for my car. Why wouldn’t they send a renewal notice for immigration? To make matters worse, the renewal process is almost as tedious, annoying, and bureaucratic as the original PR application. Nevertheless, I sent in my renewal application, several months before it was scheduled to expire. Bring me a shrubbery! (not-so-obscure reference to a scene from Monty Python’s “In Search of the Holy Grail”).

When I returned from Buffalo a few weeks ago, and crossed the Canadian border, I handed the immigration officer my now expired Permanent Resident card and was almost denied entry into Canada. I didn’t realize it had expired on the eleventh. The immigration officer asked me if I had my landing document, and I told him that no, I was required to surrender that document in order to get the temporary card. This is going to be a problem. I just got a notice from the issuers of renewal cards that in my application for renewal I had failed to dot an “i” on line 487, thereby delaying the application process even further. I called Canadian Immigration and asked what I am supposed to do in the interim until my card is renewed, and their advice directly contradicted what I was told at the border. I am now in immigration limbo. Although I am married to a Canadian citizen, have a Canadian health card, an Ontario Driver’s license, a Social Insurance Number, etc., my immigration status is unclear. Technically, I suppose that I am now an illegal immigrant, though I have made every effort to follow the ambiguous and complicated rules required to remain a resident of this country. By the way, good luck trying to reach a warm body to assist you in this process. Everything is phone menus and websites which are not particularly helpful.

Finally, last weekend, while I was up north, I volunteered my services as a grill cook for the 15th Annual Kearney Dogsled Races. Though the weather was unseasonably mild, there was a good turnout, and I was able to enjoy some of the races after my grill duties were fulfilled. There is no describing the cacophony of over one hundred sled dogs howling and barking at the same time. If you’ve never been to a sled dog race, and you like dogs, you might want to put this on your list of things to do. I hope to attend again next year … that is, if I have not yet been banished from the country.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2-2-09

Back up North for this week then back down to Buffalo. My sister is driving back there from Connecticut today and will be there for the week. I’ll drive down, hopefully at the end of the week, for the next shift of Operation Loyal Sons and Daughters.

We spoke to Dad yesterday while he was watching the Superbowl in his bedroom. He sounded like the old dad, and he even threw in a few wisecracks, but he is clearly much weaker than he was when he went into the hospital about a month ago. The man has prostate cancer, a myriad of heart problems, arthritis, and lots of problems stemming from the fact that he is bedridden for 22 hours per day. Still he survives and seems to be in pretty good spirits. I think he is an excellent example of someone who is aging gracefully.

Things are progressing at the new home, but the economy and several other formidable setbacks have caused us some big problems, not the least of which was our former plumber. By far, he has turned out to be the biggest disappointment on this job. What started off as his occasional tardiness evolved into a litany of excuses and half-finished work. During the time he was at our construction site, he gradually became less and less reliable. In hindsight, we should have let him go a long time ago, but almost like a battered wife, we kept coming back for more. The time lost and the havoc he wreaked on our other trades, many who were reliant on his timely completion of his work, will be costly. We now have what I hope are reliable plumbers to complete his unfinished work, some of which had to be redone. The worst part about all of this is that we all, including our builder, trusted this fool.

I was watching some of the talking heads on a financial segment of CNN the other night and they were of course discussing the bleak economic picture. While this global recession seems to deepen every day, and is perhaps worse than anyone would have imagined, recessions and even depressions are cyclical. Everyone wants to know how bad and how long. As the experts weighed in with their predictions and insights, one guy touched upon the variable which is hard to gauge: consumer confidence. There is a lot of outrage out there. A lot of people lost their jobs and/or their security because of this mortgage-backed securities debacle. Throw in a couple of Bernie Madoffs and we have a real crisis of confidence. No doubt, any of us who let ourselves become heavily leveraged, and spent more than we had can take much of the blame for the mess we’re in now. As we have all learned, “value” is a relative term, and what we are worth on paper can change overnight. Banking on value is risky. In the back of my mind, I can’t say I ever really trusted my government. I know that this cynical sentiment is almost a truism, and that a lot of us feel the same way about this. But a trust has been broken with our bankers, with our stock brokers, our real estate salespeople, and even our plumbers(!). When a trust is broken, how long does it take to rebuild? I used to shake my head at my frugal father, turning off lights when he left a room. After all, how much electricity is saved leaving a light off for an hour? But my dad lived through the Great Depression. Seventy years later, those memories are still clear in his mind. I think we’re all going to be learning some hard lessons over the years to come. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED