The Oppenheimer Report - 9/28/15

Baseball legend Yogi Berra died last week at the ripe old age of 90, and of course that prompted every news source in North America to resurrect some of those wonderful Yogi-isms … “It’s not over til the fat lady sings,” “ It ain’t over til it’s over”, and my favorite: “When you come to a fork in the road take it.” Apparently, and this according to a family member, he also said, and I paraphrase: “I have to go to all my friend’s funerals, otherwise they won’t come to mine.” While on the subject of baseball,  and although not a baseball fan myself, I would be remiss if I did not at least mention that the Toronto Blue Jays are hot this year and have just secured a playoff spot for this year's World Series. I was courting my wife Shauna when the Jays won their second World Series back in the early 90s, and I cannot imagine what the amazing (and playoff-starved) fans of Toronto would do if the Jays were to perform a three-peat.

 

At around 9PM last night the super moon lunar eclipse occurred. The last time this happened was in 1982, and it won’t happen again until 2033. While lunar eclipses are not uncommon, it is uncommon to have a lunar eclipse when the moon is at or near its closest proximity to Earth. Eclipsed by the earth’s shadow the moon sometimes appears to be blood red, and some superstitious people believe that the red moon is a bad omen. Learning machine that I am, I discovered that this lunar eclipse is the final in a series of four lunar eclipses, separated by six month increments, and known as a tetrad. Another fun fact: one of the previous three lunar eclipses in this tetrad occurred on my birthday, October 8^th, 2014. Although it was cloudy last night when I took Jasper out for her final walk of the day, I did catch the end of the eclipse through a short break in the clouds.

 

Last night, I watched a news story about a left-handed 4 year-old in Oklahoma who was forced to use his right hand because his pre-school teacher told him left-handed people were evil and inferior. I wonder if that teacher also believes in bloodletting and witch-burning. When the child’s mother complained, as a response, the school sent her an article outlining antiquated and unfounded theories on the inferiorities of left-handed people. Really? This reminds me of the Scopes Monkey Trial, and I worry that the religious right has once again sabotaged education. When I was in kindergarten, I was forced to use right handed scissors, and was also encouraged to write with my right hand. I think they just didn’t want to buy left handed scissors for the two left-handed kids in the class, but still, this is not a good thing to do to a developing child. Perhaps this explains why I now worship the devil and make animal sacrifices. For all of you who teach pre-school in Oklahoma, I’m kidding. I think Pope Francis has his work cut out for him, because ignorance is catching like wildfire these days.

 

Final note, and speaking of Pope Francis, last week he completed a three city tour in the United States, and the man might singlehandedly heal the gaping wounds that have so plagued The Catholic Church for so many decades. I thought Pope Paul was a decent pope, but this guy might have him beat. Certainly, he is sensitive to the glaring hypocrisy of excess and sexual deviance that has dogged the Catholic Church for so long, and he might be the best spokesman for positive change in religion I have yet to see. Of particular interest to me was his apology to the families who suffered sexual abuse at the hands of priests. Merely by acknowledging this profound wrong, he has done a remarkable thing. No great fan of religion, I am encouraged by any religious leader who promotes a message of love and acceptance, and there is no question that our troubled world needs a lot more of that.

 

As Yogi said: “The future ain’t what it used to be”

 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 9/21/15

My late sister Joanne in front of the original beach house

There’s no doubt about it, change can be a bitch, and as life’s drama unfolds, I am confronted with it at every turn. Relationships form, relationships are shattered, friends and family move, people have kids, people get sick; people die. For me, the past ten years have been particularly unsettling in this regard, as I have shared the universal experience of dealing with the end stages of my parents’ lives. While I feel fortunate to have had wonderful parents, who both lived well into their nineties, there is no denying that the last years were difficult. The problem I had, and which most people probably have, was what to keep, what to sell, and what to give away.

After Mom and Dad were both gone, we had an estate sale, then sold the family house in Buffalo shortly thereafter. As well, there was a beach house, a summer home on the lake, across the border in Fort Erie, and I kept telling myself that I could not sell that house as long as my mom was still alive. The house had been in her family since she was a little girl, and that would have been devastating to her. In truth, it was I who could not bear to part with the house, and I suppose I equated the physical structure with so many happy memories. When the economy turned south in 2008, the issue became moot because there were then no buyers. The next four or five years were a string of hassles with summer rentals, upkeep, taxes, and deferred maintenance and repairs. This property, which had represented so many wonderful memories for four generations of the Lehman and Oppenheimer families, was now becoming  a bothersome expense.  With a heavy heart, I finally sold the property last fall. I made one last sweep for mementoes, then locked the door for the last time.

After the deal closed, I naturally assumed the new owners would tear down the existing structures and start from scratch. The house was in obvious need of extensive repair, and I envisioned some compound springing up with no soul or warmth, inhabited by jerks who could never enjoy the place the way my family had. That was not the case. Earlier in the summer, I was delighted to receive some photos from a friend who had photographed the house as it was being slowly renovated. The new owners opted to keep the bones of the old house and rebuild. This, coupled with later reports that they were a family with young children, who seemed to be enjoying the house as much as my family had, made me very happy.  Hey, they even have a boat.

Last weekend, while down in Ft. Erie to visit my best friend, we took a boat ride down the bay and I had the opportunity to meet the new owners. They were gracious enough to give me a tour of the improved house. What they have done to the old house is nothing short of spectacular and I was beyond delighted to see that, in so many ways, the original edifice, albeit contemporized, is still there. In fact, from the beach, it still looks very much like the old house.
 

I realize I can’t stop the march of time, although I have lately felt profoundly out of step with it. I have let go of so many things that I foolishly deluded myself would be around forever. But I am getting better at this. Seeing that family beach house in good hands, I felt just a little bit more in sync. While I am learning that I have little or no control over how the events in my life unfold, I can find my peace with that notion that some changes are for the best.

-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2015  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 9/14/15

I am writing this report on the Eve of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, and I wish all my Jewish friends peace and prosperity for the upcoming year. I feel extremely fortunate for my general wellbeing, but inexplicably anxious at the same time. Perhaps it is the stubborn intestinal flu that Shauna and I are fighting right now, which has sapped me of my energy and my perspective. Perhaps it’s the wane of summer, or the never-ending doomsday reporting on the 11 O’clock News. Maybe it’s all the coverage of the two North American election campaigns, which seem to lack anything resembling leadership or courage, but whatever it is, I find myself at a low ebb this Rosh Hashanah.

Question: Can you name a good Jewish wine? Answer: "I ache all over!"

 

Last Thursday marked the 28th week of my radio show Lyrical Workers, and it’s hard for me to believe I have now been doing this show for over a half a year. Like this weekly report, the radio show is an attempt to maintain the discipline of a consistent weekly dialogue, on the written page, and now with the presentation of songs that have so far influenced me. When I am scrambling to come up with a set list of 36 good songs, I try to remember that my real incentive was and is to grow as a song writer. And I’ve learned a lot. In the past several months, and in preparation for the show, I have learned about and enjoyed the music of gifted Canadian songwriters Garnet Rogers, Rob Lutes, Katherine Wheatley, Jon Brooks, Fred Eaglesmith, Stompin’ Tom Connors, and so many others. This exposure to previously unexplored talent, and my interaction with so many local songwriters, has been rewarding and educational. I feel the need to remind myself of this from time to time, when I turn on that mic and have no idea if anyone else is listening.

 

I’ve wrestled with this now for over 30 years. Is anybody reading; is anybody listening? I am sure this is on the minds of many amateur writers.  A few years ago, Shauna signed me up something called “Stat Counter,” which is a free internet-based tracker, to see how many hits my blog gets. I try not to care, but I do pay attention. Since I began to post online in 2006 I have had about 30,500 “page visits,” I got quite excited to see that, on average, 200 readers visit the site on a weekly basis. Nevertheless, of those 200 visitors, perhaps a small fraction actually read the blog. One needs to look at the time spent on the page to determine if people are actually taking the time to read what I have written. There is certainly a lot of competition for a reader’s attention, and in this age of abbreviated communication, where Twitter is king, I suppose it is delusion to expect anyone but friends and family might take the time to read this report. It is narcissism that drives me to care, and I am quite aware of that. I remember having this discussion with an old and respected high school English professor, and he suggested that simply trying to call attention to what I have created does not in and of itself constitute narcissism. Especially where my songs are concerned, I do want people to listen.  Anyhow, I sign off on a cold and rainy Sunday night, self-absorbed insecure, and anxious as ever. Happy New Year, and I promise to be cheerier for Yom Kippur!

 

Time just seems to swirl up like the leaves in a blow

So much spinning out of my control

And I want to solve the problems of this oh so troubled world

But I can’t even seem to solve my own

 

The changes they are coming, this I surely know

And I need to find a way to ease this troubled soul

As outside, the wind begins to blow…

     

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 9/7/15

The other day, I was watching the evening news and learned that, in the interest of inclusiveness, Marvel Comics has contemporized some of its superheroes. Thor is now a female, The Green Lantern has come out of the closet, and another superhero, perhaps Captain America, is depicted as an African American. I wonder who they will pick to represent the much-stigmatized trans-gendered? I always thought Batman’s sidekick, Robin, had a few skeletons in the closet. On a lighter note, Donald Trump is apparently a viable candidate for the Republican nod in the U.S. Presidential race, and this absolutely astounds me. When I started writing this report in the early nineties, I thought Trump was a circus side show. I can’t stand his public (maybe private) image, and I was far more judgmental on paper than I am today, but this guy plays the media like a fiddle. I just saw a trailer for the upcoming CNN Republican debate and Trump is still a sideshow. The ad looked more like a trailer for an upcoming prize fight. Sadly, he has the funds to sell his brand of crazy and one can never under-estimate the intelligence of the voting public.

There was a Facebook post on my wall this morning from one of my high school friends and it was a picture of the shadow of a cyclist. The caption read something like: “Summer has ended and I am just a shadow of my former self.” It does seem as if I was late for the starting gate this summer, and today ,I feel a little under the weather. This has been a strange summer for us in many ways. There has been great satisfaction and joy, especially wherein our involvement with the radio station is concerned. Shauna and I are eager to support the local music scene and the spread of original music (not just mine) beyond our little community. Unfortunately, it is apparent music is not high on everyone’s priority list, and attendance at local music venues has been, at best, inconsistent. A musician friend shared a recent Facebook post, I believe from musician Vince Gill, and it decried the eroding support of many of today’s listeners. Basically it said, a person can buy his song for 99 cents, which is essentially what he got paid decades ago for the same song, and is about the same amount of money one pays for a downloadable phone application that creates a fart sound. Venues are harder to book, and it seems as if, certainly for the lesser known acts, it is getting harder to get people out to fill seats. Clearly, the elusive formula for success is more and more tied to one’s ability to market oneself online. Fifteen years ago, we learned about Australian artist, John Butler, through the internet and I thought that was a clever way to get one’s music out there. Butler had put up a music video on YouTube showcasing his unique guitar style and we were impressed enough to see him when he finally toured Canada. Back then, I had no idea that I was so out of touch and that so many of today’s stars got their start on the internet. It's all about the buzz online.

Juan Barbosa is about to release his third self-produced album, Soulbot 6000, and we have hired a publicist to assist us in marketing the album. Shauna and I think it is remarkably good music, and warrants proper exposure. I am surprised by how much the music industry has transformed in the past 20 years. Yes, one can still buy the CD, but the number of online distribution organizations and marketing tools has exploded. I feel about as left behind technologically as my nonagenarian father did, trying to figure out the TV remote. The irony of all this is that Juan’s new album deals thematically with the erosion of soul and honesty in music. In the album, a robot goes back in time to re-discover and recover what is real and heartfelt about music and what has been stripped from the soul-less, auto-tuned future of drum machines and synthesized voices. I feel that good music is timeless, and it will always be out there for those who listen. As I said, I feel a bit out of step with time today. Maybe I too am a shadow of my former self. On this grey Labour Day I feel like an anachronism; I still speak in complete sentences. I sign off (L)aughing (O)out (L)oud.

                       -  Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED