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
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