The Oppenheimer Report 7/30/18

A Woofie with Jasper at the vet

The other day, I noticed a post on Facebook from my niece and nephew who were celebrating the 14^th birthday of their Chocolate Lab, Magnum. He even had a birthday cake. Mags is a very big dog and has defied the odds with his longevity. That is cause for celebration. In the photo, he looked a little long in the tooth, with his grey muzzle and his distant gaze, but he also looked content, in a home full of dog lovers. From a chart I saw in the vets office the other day, I learned that the “dog years” scale varies considerably, depending on the size of the dog. Seems as if lately I’ve heard about a lot of friends losing their old pets. I’ve seen several Facebook posts wherein people have mourned the loss or imminent loss of their pets, and while this always makes me sad, I cannot imagine my life without a dog in it.

We went through a lot of dogs in the Oppenheimer family over the years, and I can remember each one clearly. Not all our dogs were legendary, but there were a few who were, and regardless, I loved them all. We had Standard Poodles for a while, and I think poodles get a bad rap. Poodles are wonderful dogs; very intelligent, and affectionate. My favorite Poodle was Taboo, or Tabby as we called her, and whenever we took her in for her semi-annual visit to the groomers, afterward, she’d run out into the backyard and roll in the mud and grass to de-poodle herself. I don’t know what my mother was thinking, but she once brought home a fox hound puppy, whom we named “Sam”. Kennel dogs do not make good “indoor” dogs. Sam lasted about six months, and he was more destructive than all our other dogs combined. He finally ended up on a nearby farm, and then mysteriously disappeared shortly thereafter.  Soon thereafter, my mom made the unpopular decision to buy two Yorkshire Terrier puppies, and they were yappy little bastards. Nicky and Chipper weren’t as bad as Sam, but they were far from my favorite dogs. They did have a lot of personality. Nicky was tolerable, but Chipper was the Eddie Haskell of dogs. One night I came home after a long night of partying and found myself locked out of the house. Chipper saw that I was locked out, stared at me, smiled at my dilemma, then lifted his leg on a nearby stair and ran away. Years later, when I was in university, I got a long, newsy letter from my dad, which I read in the school library. At the end of the letter was a short post script, which read: “PS, Mom ran over Chipper in the driveway by accident, but she’s ok.” That is, my mom was ok, Chipper was toast. Karma’s a bitch.     

After the Yorkies, we switched to Corgis and had five of those over the next twenty years. Although they too were noisy dogs, Corgies are great dogs. When I moved up to Toronto, the Taylor family had Miniature Schnauzers, and I have grown to love them as well. They are an acquired taste. Presently we have Jasper, a grey Miniature Schnauzer who turned 13 last May. Like all our Schnauzers have been, Jasper is full of personality and “schtick”. Sadly, she is getting old, and we are beginning to prepare ourselves for the day when we will lose her. She seems to be in the beginning stages of dementia, and her personality has changed. We have finally found a very good vet we trust, and we’ll do what we can for her. As much as I rue the day when we will lose Jasper, and I hope we have another year or two, I won’t allow her to suffer. I’ve never had to do this before; my mom was always the one who took our dogs to the vets to be euthanized. This is all very new to me, and of course, Shauna and I are emotionally attached to Jasper. I just hope when the time comes the decision is clear.

It’s the harsh reality of pet ownership that our pet’s lives will be a fraction of ours. Hopefully we have some more time with Jasper, but Shauna and I will be by her side when she passes, and she could not have found parents who love her more. Shauna whispered in her ear the other night; imploring her to come back to us in another dog when her spirit leaves her body. I’d like to think a part of her will.

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 - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 7/23/18

Several years ago I wrote a song entitled “Milkman” and it is a song about denial.

I think it may be time to take a news vacation as I sit here in the deceptively calm paradise of the Almaguin Highlands, overlooking our little lake from the comfort of our upstairs porch. Back in the 80s, before I met Shauna, I used to come up to Toronto relatively frequently, to attend concerts and theatrical productions, and simply to hang out in one of the world’s best cities. Back then there was relatively little crime in Toronto, certainly in comparison to many of the big cities in the U.S.A. Toronto had many of the cultural benefits of New York City but was much safer and cleaner. Well, thirty years later things have changed and Toronto is catching up to the rest of the world. A few months ago there was the deadly van attack on Yonge Street, not far from where my mother-in-law lives, which killed or injured a number of innocent pedestrians. Recently, there have been a slew of deadly shootings in the downtown core, and just last night, there was a mass shooting on the Danforth in Greek Town, not far from where Shauna and I used to live. While the news is still trickling in on this latest attack, so far there are two casualties, and thirteen people were shot. I always felt safe walking around on the streets of Toronto, but now, when I walk around the city, I’m wary.

It’s strange, because I grew up in a relatively dangerous city. Per capita, there was more gun violence in Buffalo than there ever was in Toronto. I myself had been mugged twice, and I knew that there were certain neighborhoods I just needed to avoid. That said, I became numbed to the violence about which I was apprised every night on Channel 7 News at Eleven. When, in 1994, I moved up to Toronto (which was at the time relatively crime free), I became more sensative to every violent act.  Slowly over the past 20 + years, I have watched as the gang graffiti began to litter the bridges, buildings, and subway trains. There have been about 280 shootings in Toronto since the beginning of this year, and it seems like gun violence is escalating in the city.

The guy who shot all those people on the Danforth last night was mentally ill. There’s a lot of that going around these days, and it’s almost impossible to tell who the ticking time bombs are. There's usually a reason why people go off, but we always seem to find out after the violent act. Maybe it’s a crazier world than it was; there just seem to be a lot of mentally unbalanced people roaming around. Regrettably, procuring a gun does not seem to be a problem.

About two years ago, I wrote a song about denial, and about how I process traumatic events. It is a loosely strung together group of experiences from my past, and it begins with the first time I ever saw an adult in emotional distress (it was not a milkman by the way). I think I live in denial to survive, ignoring much of the pain and suffering that goes on around me. These days, every time I watch some catastrophe on the news, I wonder what I would have done, what I should do. Would I be a hero, or a more likely, the coward?

I saw the Milkman he was crying

Right outside my cellar door

I think those preacher men been lying

Nothing makes sense to me anymore

So I bury my head, bury my head, bury my head in the sand.

Bury my head, bury my head, bury my head in the sand

Don’t want to bury my head, bury my head, bury my head in the sand.

- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 7/16/18

Today, I noticed a post on Facebook from my friend Mike Cardy, one of our local naturalists and wildlife experts. He commented on the dry weather we’ve had, and the fact that it is having a deleterious effect on local wildlife. Berry bushes and much of the vegetation upon which the wild animals around here feed are drying up. Presently, there is a complete fire ban in our area, and there have been reports of wildfires popping up around the region. I heard about one in Algonquin Park, and there was recently a fairly serious one up north in the vicinity of Temagami, northeast of Sudbury. In the past ten years or so since we moved up here, a lot of fuel has been accumulating in the woods around our house, and this of course concerns me. Most of the locals take these fire bans seriously, but some do not. As well, the visitors from the city, who come up here to camp for the weekend, might be even less inclined to heed a ban. It doesn’t take much to ignite a wildfire. The other day, as Shauna and I were on our way home from Huntsville, we came across someone burning brush somewhere far in from the road. We immediately called the fire department. Trouble was we called after 5PM, and no one answered, nor did anyone answer at the bylaw department in Huntsville. The fire departments around here are volunteer, which make prevention and vigilance all that much more important. There is an old  joke among some local volunteer fireman: “We’ve never lost a foundation.”

Wildfires were never something I worried about growing up in Buffalo (in Buffalo, the bigger concern was arson). The first wildfire I ever saw close up was on one of our drives out to Banff, somewhere on the plains of Saskatchewan. One fire had jumped the road just before we passed, and it was strange and unsettling to see flames on both sides of our car. At one time, Shauna and I did quite a lot of exploring and hiking on the Alberta/ B.C. border, and one summer was a particularly bad one for wild fires. I remember driving down through the Kootenay Park one day to hike near Radium, B.C. and there were wildfires just behind the mountains. I’ll never forget seeing a thick plume of smoke rising over the distant mountaintops, and wondering if we were in any danger. We were living in the town of Banff, and one day a nearby controlled burn went out of control. The wind shifted suddenly, and in a matter of hours the entire Bow Valley surrounding Banff filled up with smoke. That fire really alarmed me, because the air quality was so bad we had to stay inside. Flash fires like the one that levelled Slave Lake near Edmonton, Alberta are horrible reminders of how quickly these fires can go completely out of control.

Today we got a little of the desperately needed rain that will help re-foliate our parched landscape, but this mini draught is a subtle reminder that the fires we see in the news so often might someday visit us here in the Almaguin Highlands. Our little draught might be portents for things to come. As the planet heats up, I become more and more concerned about the ever-increasing supply of fuel in our surrounding woods, fuel which could feed a wildfire. 

Then again, upon consulting the news tonight, wildfires might be a preferable end to what seems to be the accelerating demise of mankind. I am told that the Rump has committed yet another unpardonable diplomatic blunder, this time throwing his entire country under the bus while meeting with (pandering to) Russian President Vladimir Putin. The other day, he walked in front of the Queen  (I’m just thankful he didn’t pinch her on her butt), and he’s been busy alienating every ally we used to have in the world. Six of one, or a half dozen of the other: wildfire or hellfire, take your pick.

 - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 7/9/18

Joe Bamford on the left with his wife Fatima on the far right

At present, we have Shauna’s mom, Ethel “E.T.” Taylor visiting us at Jasper Bark Lodge, and we told her we had a big surprise for her when she got here. Joe Bamford, a music promoter in Parry Sound specializing in charity fundraisers, offered Jeff Carter, managing director of Hunters Bay Radio, four free tickets to see The Glenn Miller Orchestra at The Charles W. Stockey Centre For The Performing Arts in Parry Sound. Last Saturday night, Shauna, her mom, Jeff, and I drove to Parry Sound to see the world famous Glenn Miller Orchestra perform. E.T. hosts a show on Hunters Bay Radio entitled Martini Music which airs on Sunday nights (6pm – 8pm) and is one of the more popular shows at Hunters Bay Radio. Joe Bamford is a fan of the show, and he wanted to meet E.T. While the music E.T. loves might be a little out of my wheelhouse, I have grown to appreciate it,  largely because of this Martini Music show. She has great taste in the music from her era and has exposed me to some fantastic artists from the 40s, 50s and 60s. She plays a lot of big band swing, mixed in with male and female vocalists from the past six decades, covering some of the best songs ever written. I’m all about the songwriting and composition, and Martini Music features some of the best.

We arrived just before the concert was to begin, met Joe Bamford, and later his wife Fatima, picked up our free tickets, and were delighted to discover that our seats were front row center. There was a respectable audience of around 350 people, and the show was great. I’ve always enjoyed swing music but to see a live band perform it, with all the retro feel of the original Glenn Miller Orchestra, was a genuine thrill. The band, made up of excellent musicians from all across the United States, performed much the same way as the original orchestra had, which is to say they were animated and a lot of fun to watch. All in all it was a memorable evening, and a big thanks goes out to Jeff Carter for inviting us to the show. Particularly moving was the shout out to E.T. by Joe as he was introducing the orchestra. As a fan of Martini Music, he gave ithe show and E.T. an excellent plug. The concert was also educational, with the lead singer and band leader offering stories about Glenn Miller and about the origins of some of the famous songs he arranged. Miller was an outstanding arranger, and each song is a well-orchestrated symphony.  I was amazed to hear that Miller had, in his short career, arranged over 700 songs. As for the venue, The Stockey Centre is a beautiful place to see concert. Located right at the water’s edge along the Parry Sound waterfront, the concert hall has soaring 70+ foot ceilings and beautiful stonework lining the walls. The reception area includes a huge bank of windows overlooking Georgian Bay to the west and, during intermission, I came out and took in the remains of a spectacular sunset. A great night all around, and I think very therapeutic for Shauna.

Final note. Today, I wanted to configure E.T.’s computer tablet so that she could get on Facebook. Yes, my 93 year-old is on Facebook, probably to communicate with all her adoring fans. It should have been simple enough, but I'd lost the password for our Bell router, and unlike all the other routers I’ve owned, the password was not affixed to the back of the unit. Bell’s online instructions for how to access one’s password were ambiguous and almost laughable. I tried “chatting’ with an online assistant, but after being re-routed to four different people (I'm assuming) who didn’t know anything, I finally gave up on Bell altogether, instead consulting with the manufacturer of the router to discover that the information I needed was available on the inside of the battery cover. Increasingly I find that with all things computer-related, there is a built in you-can’t-get-there-from-here component. I can’t get no sa-tis-fac-tion.

 - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 7/2/18

A belated Happy Canada Day to all my Canadian friends, and a pre-emptive Happy Fourth of July to all my friends stateside. Last night on the lake it sounded as if we were being invaded, so loud was the cacophony of fireworks. Apart from that, Shauna and I had a relatively quiet night at home, watching Big Brother. Hey, don’t judge, it’s our guilty pleasure.

It’s strange being a landed immigrant in Canada at a time when my homeland is in such turmoil. I’ve had more than one American friend contact me to say that they are seriously thinking about moving to Canada, and that saddens me. It also discourages me to hear some Canadians lump all of America in with Rump. The Orange Emperor is merely the lightning rod for all the anger and discontent many Americans feel about their dysfunctional government. Canada and Europe are not immune to hatred by the way. I still love my country, and I regret the Pandora’s Box of hatred which has opened for the world to see. I despise all that Rump represents, but I also blame the eroding culture which feeds this beast. As I’ve said, one can’t force people to be kind-hearted, one can only lead by example. An American classmate wrote me the other day complaining about the woeful state of American politics, and my tongue-in-cheek response was that I am fighting the good fight by writing protest songs. I have written a lot of angry songs about America, dating back to the 80s, songs like “Watching The War On T.V” about the Gulf War, and “Book Of Jive” and “Paper Money” about the American Savings and Loans crisis. I don’t expect anyone to hear those songs.    

Over the past six months, I have been making simple cell phone videos of my performances of some of these songs. Facebook and YouTube have made it so easy to post these videos, and I thought I’d put them out there for posterity. The ever-growing narcissist in me realizes that I’m well into the second semester of my life, and I’ve had countless reminders that things can and do change in an instant. While I have not pursued a “career” in songwriting, it is about the only thing I have done consistently for forty plus years now. These songs are my legacy. I do not often perform live, but these videos will be a record of some of the songs I hope will live on long after I’m gone.

One song, which I recorded and posted yesterday on my Facebook page, is a song I wrote well over a decade ago. I wrote it on the day that our friends Bobby and Sherrie Cameron celebrated the birth of their daughter. I haven’t seen Jaiden Cameron since she was a baby, but I’ve watched her grow up in Facebook photos, and she seems to be developing into a very creative, interesting young lady. Entitled “Lullaby From A Newborn” the song is written from the perspective of the newborn. My songs may never find an audience; they certainly aren’t pop tunes. Still, I am happy I wrote them, because they are journal entries. They are collectively a record of my life, and of the lives of the people around me. They are my story, from my imagination; a roadmap to the many stages of my life to date. I think I’ll record “Book Of Jive” or “Watching The War On T.V. on The Fourth of July. I am thankful I still have the freedom to write songs like these.
   

      - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED