The Oppenheimer Report 10/8/18

Happy Thanksgiving to all my Canadian friends. As I write this report, I am sitting out on our front porch off our bedroom, overlooking the lake, and a heavy rainfall has just drenched the property. The fall air is damp and cold, and I can smell wood smoke from a neighbor’s fire. That smell rekindles memories of places and people I have known. I am reminded of a fraternity expedition into the woods of Connecticut to cut firewood for the winter. I remember the smell of the damp dead leaves, the muted palette of a hundred earth tones surrounding me; the smells of fall. I remember laughter, and the sound of chainsaws, and my friend’s enormous ’68 Plymouth Belvedere with its big block V8, so full of logs that the back end was practically dragging on the ground. We used to joke about that car being the perfect mob vehicle because there was so much room for bodies in the trunk.

Today is also my 63^rd birthday, and I have much for which to be thankful. I’m still alive, for starters. The other day I posted a photo I took in the Porta-Bote as I putted up the Magnetawan River after picking up the mail. There won’t be too many more of those trips this season, and I felt blessed to have seized the day. It was late afternoon, and as the sun peeked through a canopy of pines, lighting up the multi-colored maple leaves on the opposite bank, I had one of those elusive moments of pure peace. For just one instant, I was mindful of the paradise in which I live, of the natural beauty which has become harder and harder for me to see. If I could only find a way to be more invested in the moment, and nullify all the misunderstanding and divisiveness that I can’t seem to outrun. All the drama, the trauma, the blame, the tragedy, the misogyny, the words that are derogatory, the spin, the sin, the divisiveness, the broken promises, the omnipresent hatred and misunderstanding; the losing battle to control or defeat the very elements which are uncontrollable – it all just drifted away in the snap of a cell phone photo. Sadly, I don’t reside in this peaceful moment often. I have the photo to remind me.

For what am I thankful? Let me see. I am thankful for my family, for the four wonderful parents (one still with us) who guided me through the first six decades of my life, for my remarkable, beautiful wife, who daily reminds me to chose love over hate, for all my good friends who have so far infused my soul with their complicated and beautiful personalities, and who continue to teach me by their examples. I am thankful for human kindness wherever it is found, and for the people who recognize and practice it in their everyday lives. I am thankful for all the trees, presently ablaze with color, some which we, or people we love, planted, and which remind me of the swift passage of time. I am thankful for the color blue in all its hues, for the key of D, for the chickadees who so boldly land on our window ledge in every kind of weather looking for food; for all the other birds I have lately come to admire, including but not limited to: blue jays, grey jays, nuthatches, crows, grosbeaks, owls, and eagles. I am thankful for the chipmunks, squirrels, groundhogs, porcupines, weasels, fox, beaver, moose, deer, bear, raccoons, etc.that live here with us. I am thankful for music in its rich array of styles, and for its capacity to unite unlike minds. I am thankful for my ability to communicate.  

Most of all, I am thankful for the flickering but ever-strengthening realization that I am not on this planet to hurt anyone or anything else. I am thankful for times when I am mindful I do, and for my efforts to correct that behavior. I am thankful that, for the first time in over sixty years, I am beginning to love myself, and am therefore more likely to pass that love along. Finally, I am thankful for the occasional realization that most of what happens around me is out of my control. I can only work to keep lit the flickering flame of love within me and hope that it will illuminate the dream of a peaceful future when I am gone. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2018 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED