The Oppenheimer Report - 10/5/15

Mom and Dad shortly after they were married

In three days, I will celebrate my 60^th birthday, and I plan to spend the evening broadcasting my radio show Lyrical Workers on Hunters Bay Radio. That may not seem very exciting, but as my Oregonian cousin might say, “it’s fine and dandy with me.” It is fitting that I will be playing music and learning about songwriters on my birthday, because that is something I enjoy.
 

I’m not exactly sure why, because I am long past the notorious mid-life crisis stage of life, but sixty sucker punched me. Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, and in my mind, I am a twenty-something. The balding, grey-haired man staring back at me in the mirror is shaking his head. Time to face the music Jamie, you are officially old. My dad was ninety-eight when he passed on, and until the day he died, he had a young man’s spirit. He was a remarkably approachable, funny, selfless, and in many ways, an open-minded man. It is mostly in retrospect that I have realized that. I want to be like my dad.

 

This has been a strange couple of weeks for me, and I’m sure I have not been much fun to be around. Ever my champion, Shauna advertises my radio show and promotes this report, but more and more these days, I wonder why I do this. I certainly can’t attribute my efforts to my legion of fans – I don’t have one - so what motivates me?  The seemingly exponential acceleration of time has me wondering how long I’ve got. Why are months flying by so quickly? Am I squandering my time? How do I reconcile myself to the changes, and how do I make the best of my remaining time, however much that may be? I never used to think like this. I was, after all, young. All around me are constant reminders of the fragility of life. People become crippled in freak accidents, or fall terminally ill, or catastrophe upends their previously charmed lives, and in one split second, everything changes. Maybe it’s the catastrophes that define us, for better or worse. It’s a question that haunts me more as I grow older. What a revelation: I’m growing old and beginning to worry about my future. I must be the only person who feels this way! What will the world do without me? I am slowly beginning to figure out that the notion of my significance is ludicrous. “It doesn’t amount to a pinch of coon shit” as Shauna’s Uncle Sam used to say. Insignificance is not something to mourn or regret, it is simply something to acknowledge. The simple fact is that when I’m gone, my memory has the shelf life of raw eggs in the sun, to all but the very few who have loved me. So, in answer to the question “Why do I write and why do I promote music?” It feels right to me. It’s my miniscule contribution to the universe. I can now rest assured that my life has had meaning. Selling industrial real estate certainly didn’t do that for me.

 

Every so often, I hear or read the story of a great man or woman, a hero or heroine in history who overcame great adversity to save lives or do good. I wonder how many more remained anonymous. I wish more people focused on the heroes, and less on crooks and pompous celebrities. There are so many heroes in our everyday lives: firemen, teachers, doctors, good citizens, even children, who perform selfless acts of heroism and bravery every day. I’m no hero, but slow and steady wins the race. I’ll just plod along, spreading my twisted opinions throughout the universe, all the while shrugging my shoulders, bewildered by the tectonic shifts in my culture.

 

To sum up - I was depressed about turning 60, but I’m getting over it. I’m a late baby bloomer. Who knows what I might do before I croak?

 

Did you hear, Mars has water? Woohoo, another planet to rape!

 

-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2015 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED