The Oppenheimer Report 4/27/20

As I mentioned in last week’s report, I have been bird-watching as a distraction from the nonstop bickering and bad news. On my daily walk yesterday, amidst the blessed silence, I heard the staccato pecking of a nearby woodpecker. Then there was another, and then another, and pretty soon, I was listening to a drum solo. The echo of three woodpeckers pecking on hollow tree trunks, in three different keys, was very pleasing to the senses. For just a moment, focused on the sublime cacophony of nature’s rhythm section, I was distracted from the hurricane of my thoughts. I was at peace, and it was like tasting honey for the first time. I realize I don’t spend enough time savoring these moments.

I find birds entertaining to watch. Years ago, when we spent time in the summers hiking out in Banff, that is when we began to marvel at birds. We had names for many of them. We called the beautiful Magpies who visited us “Pie A La Mag”, and as well we had names for the Grey Jays, Dark-Eyed Juncos, and  Clark’s Nutcrackers.  One Clark’s Nutcracker came back to visit us every year on the balcony of Room #421 at the Douglas Fir. We knew it was the same bird because he (for the sake of argument) had a distinct personality, and he was missing one claw. We called him “Broke Toe”, and he was a constant source of entertainment. Every morning he would sit on our balcony and wait for us to wake up. As soon as we opened the curtains he would hop up and down on the balcony railing, visibly happy. Broke Toe was a delightful companion, but not a very good singer. The song of the Clark’s Nutcrackers is a little like what Gilbert Gottfried would sound like if he sang. We also befriended a Common Raven whom we dubbed “Big Black Bird”. He (or she) would bring us presents from time to time which resembled little egg-shaped balls of twigs. I’m not exactly sure what those gifts meant. I choose to think it was a gesture of gratitude for our friedship, but maybe it was bird language for “Luca Brasi sleeps with the fishes”. One day Big Black Bird brought his entire family to visit. For the longest time we’d been hearing blood-curdling screams coming from the nearby woods, and we were worried someone was being assaulted. When Big Black Bird introduced us to his family, the mystery was solved. As it turns out, that the horrible screaming is the sound raven babies make when they’re hungry. It’s really quite upsetting.

Last week, I mentioned that Shauna and I had watched some eaglets hatched on a live webcam. This past week we have been checking in on the babies, and I’m now obsessed with the eagle family. Those little guys are butt ugly when they’re born, but they’re getting better looking every day. The eagle’s nest in question is near a trout farm, and we watched as the eagle mom and dad (they seem to take turns) regularly flew away and returned with a newly pilfered fish for the young ones. Those little ones eat A LOT. Never before have I paid attention to eagles feeding their young. It is mesmerizing. I always think of these birds as fierce predators, but their behavior with their young is quite touching. They seem gentle and patient. By the way, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen a baby eagle poop. They stick their little butts in the air and projectile squirt guano. It’s gross! know, I know, get a life Jamie. But seriously, I ask you, what IS “a life”?

Late last Saturday night, Shauna and I were checking in on the eagle family as the babies slept. Plied with fish, one ugly little ball of fur was out cold, with its head buried in the nest and its little unformed wings spread out. Another was passed out with its little head resting on a twig for a pillow. Finally, the on-duty adult dozed off, but only for a moment before something woke it up. It went into high alert, pointed its beak at the sky and made the strangest noise I’ve ever heard come from a bird. In short, that is about all I’ve accomplished in the past week, watching eagles tear fish apart to feed to their projectile-pooping young. Whatever gets you through the day right. Don’t judge me.                              

                      Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/20/20

Yesterday, Shauna and I became rapt in a YouTube video of an eaglet being hatched. Then we watched the birth of a foal, from the moment it was born to its first wobbly steps. It is remarkable how many wonderful things one can see on the internet when one has all the time in the world. It sure beats whining about who is to blame for this and that. Someone posted a list of some of the pros of enforcing a breather on mankind’s relentless march towards dubious progress. One of those pros was that Mother Earth has a brief opportunity to thrive in the absence of man’s interference. As well, with the time afforded us, we have an opportunity and perhaps more of an inclination to pay attention to nature.

Yesterday, I was in touch with my cousin Jim from Oregon. I’ve always called him Jim but his proper name is Harry J. Lehman III. Our mutual grandfather was Harry Lehman, founder of The Wildroot Company in Buffalo. I’ve been trying to email a bunch of old photo of the Lehman family to him, but the internet is not cooperating. While Jim and I were never all that close when we were younger, we’ve been in touch more frequently in the past two decades. His parents and mine are gone now, and I suppose we share memories to which only we two can relate. Jim writes great letters, painting clear and entertaining pictures of his life in Oregon. In the era of 3-word communications and mindless twits, I mean tweets, Jim has always taken the time to write a proper letter. I could probably write a book about Jim Lehman, because he’s an interesting guy, but my point in bringing him up is that he is more in touch with nature than I am. He sent me an interesting YouTube link to a live web camera mounted near the nest of a pair of ospreys in Independence, Oregon, and I have shared that link is on my Facebook page. After years of hiking in the mountains around Banff, Alberta, Shauna and I became fond of bird watching. While we are hardly experts, we have become fascinated by their behavior. We must have watched these ospreys in their nest for 10 or 15 minutes. How ironic is it that it took the internet combined with a pandemic to reinvigorate my appreciation of nature?

For 20 years or more, I’ve been haunted by the feeling that we’ve taken a wrong turn in our quest for progress.  Kids are growing up desensitized to violence because they have access to violent, realistic video games. Many of us are intoxicated by the lure of social media, and it concerns me that I and many others are spending more and more time staring at a screen instead of a forest, town, or city full of real life. It is no secret that much is being lost as we overpopulate the earth. Mother Nature has become a source of our entertainment, but is she receiving the respect she deserves? I have come to realize my part in this collective apathy, and I touched on it in last week’s report. The earth will be here long after we are gone. I always thought our extermination was going to be by our own hand, but this latest wakeup call has persuaded me that it might very well be something completely out of our control.

Because I am now confronted with the in-your-face reality of my mortality, and do not have the usual distractions that cause me to ignore it, I find myself more inclined to marvel at the flight of an osprey, or the birth of an eaglet, the spectacular beauty of a sunset, the ever-changing shape of clouds, and every blue jay, squirrel, deer, fox, moose, groundhog, porcupine, beaver, racoon, and every other wild animal and wonder of nature that I have sometimes taken for granted. Now isolated, I am paying more attention to my surroundings on my walks, and at night I am watching the occasional YouTube video. I find it ironic that, sequestered in my home, I am appreciating nature more, on my computer.

If anything good has come of this pandemic, aside from clear skies and a chance for the earth to catch it’s breath before we continue our relentless march to choke it again, it is that there is less white noise distracting us. If I only had a few weeks left – and don’t get me wrong, I hope and expect to have at least a few more decades – I want to spend more time watching birds and less time focusing on myopic,  politicians, boorish people, misbehaving celebrities, and the all-knowing press. I don’t know how the world is going to reset from all of this, and I’ve always been much better at pointing out what is wrong with the world than what might fix it. That said, I have been blessed to have settled in a place that is relatively unspoiled by man, and more than I ever did when I was a city boy, I’m learning to respect  “The Big Mommy”, as artist Mendelson Joe refers to Mother Earth. Perhaps we could all benefit from a closer look at the natural world around us.

After I posted the link to the osprey cam, I received a comment from an old friend who now lives in Maryland. He remarked that he had just been entertained by a couple of crows harassing a hawk on the street where he lives. Maybe this birdwatching thing is catching on.

    

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/13/20

My morning ritual used to be to wake up, have a shot of apple cider vinegar, then toast the day with my version of the Serenity Prayer. While I still do that, I’ve added another line: try to do more good than harm. During these complicated, confusing times, my at-risk family and I are self-isolating as directed. I am the designated shopper, and only go out (nervously) to pick up prescriptions and food. I try to limit those trips to once every two weeks. It was weird going to the supermarket the other day, armed with hand sanitizer, and wearing gloves, eyewear, a mask, and a rain poncho over my winter coat. Fashion be damned! With so little good information about exactly how contagious this deadly virus is, I try to be as vigilant as possible. That said, some others are not.  In the past month I have personally observed the best and worst of human behavior. While some selfless souls go above and beyond normal altruism to help those in need, there are always those who follow to the “me first” strategy.  No matter how much we have it drummed into our heads – and I’m sure my readers are as tired as I am of hearing the warnings and advice from public spokespeople - there will always be some who just don’t get it.

Before we moved up here full time in 2007, we were summer residents. We were the “citiots” as some locals sarcastically referred to us. We were lumped in among the “intruders” who in some cases bring with them their arrogance, disrespect, and big city attitude. In the past 13 years, I think we have gradually become accepted as locals. We are now in the strange position of having experienced local residency from both sides. In fact, many permanent residents of this community were at one time city folk who chose to re-locate to the country. There is a great deal of discussion (and rage) on social media these days about the summer residents coming up here from Toronto. Some are fearful and angry that these part-time residents are going to tax our local resources and services, or worse, exacerbate community spread. I admit, I am concerned about that as well. Stories are circulating about part-time residents, coming up from the cities, packing shopping carts full of food at the local grocery stores preparing for large, unsanctioned Easter gatherings. Here’s my 2 cents worth.

Rude, selfish, boorish behavior is omnipresent in our world today, even up here in bucolic cottage country. Rump, The Imbecilic Orange Emperor, has by proxy given people everywhere a green light to be the worst they can be.  Bad behavior transcends generalizations like local, or summer resident, Black, Red, White, Asian, Hispanic, Jewish, Muslim, Christian, Bi, Gay, Straight, Leafs fan, Senators fan, etc. We have become so tribal, so fragmented, so intolerant, that it is no wonder we are adopting the not-in-my-backyard mentality. I get it, people are afraid. I’m afraid. This is the greatest threat I have ever seen to our future as a species. I am angry about everyone who is defying common sense dictates, breaking the rules with risky behavior. Let’s be realistic, we are all of us, at some point or another guilty of senseless, selfish behavior. My biggest concern is that so many of us cannot see the big picture. Asymptomatic carriers do not know they are threatening many others’ lives. If we don’t all learn to be a little less self-absorbed, myself included, we will perish. Be it climate change, or an opportunistic virus, or the poisoning of our water and food supplies, or some other ecological crime against humanity; this is EVERYONE’S problem. If we hoard, if we are careless about distancing, about our hygiene, then we not only condemn the people we don’t know (many entrusted with our well-being), but we also condemn the people we love.

I don’t pretend to have the answers to any of this this. I have my unsolicited opinions, which I post in this report.  This is all so complicated, and the rules change every day. We were trapped in a hurricane of divisiveness and hatred before this pandemic exploded. Now, many of us, from all walks of life, are fearing for our lives. My wildly optimistic hope is that we catch the cosmic “Hail Mary” pass, that we heed this warning that we are not immune to the laws of nature. Most of all, I hope we come through this crisis a little more apprised of our connection to and responsibility for each other. Call it a universal quid pro quo. We may not like each other, but like family, we’re stuck with each other. Wise up, stay at home if possible, and listen to the health experts. As I now say to myself every morning, try to do more good than harm.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/6/20

While I’ve been somewhat sedentary over the past few months, I’m trying to get at least some exercise every day, to clear my head and to keep the heart pumping. We have a vast array of under-used exercise equipment in the house, including some device that attaches to my ten speed and allows me to train on my own bike. Still, when the sun is shining, and even sometimes when it isn’t, nothing beats a vigorous walk outside. I climbed our long driveway and walked about a half mile down the road, encouraged to see that most of the snow has melted, and that the spring runoff appears to be less severe than it was last year. As I usually do, I had my pocket voice recorder on hand to make notes for a song which has been rattling around in my head for weeks. I have an album of songs on paper, but only 4 are completed so far. The other night I performed one of those songs, “Better” live on Facebook. Ironically, the theme is contentment and love. As much as I wish I were an authority on the subjects, I am anything but. If the muse will co-operate, I hope to complete at least one of these unfinished works during these trying times, simply because it is such a challenge to explore those emotions right now. When I finish those songs, I might put down the pen for a while. I have plenty of songs in the demo folder which have yet to be re-written and recorded. I think I will leave it to the vast field of more eloquent songwriters to record the events unfolding today.

Anyhow, I was on my mental health walk and I heard a non-car motor approaching me from behind, and slowing down. I looked back and there was my old friend Harvey in his side by side ATV, with is dog Spud in the passenger seat. He and Spud were going a little shack whacky and needed to get out of the house, just like me. Spud was somewhat insistent about going for a ride, and sat in the side by side until Harvey complied. Harvey and I had a pleasant conversation from across the road, adhering to social distancing directives outlined by our health experts. We discussed the challenges of this current crisis, how our respective families are dealing with it emotionally, and we both agreed we did not see this one coming (although apparently Bill Gates and some others did). While socializing in groups and in close proximity to each other is verboten, I must say it was nice to talk to someone face to face, albeit from 8 feet away.

Finally, I tip my hat to Hunters Bay Radio. First of all, kudos for the shot in the arm to some of our local musicians currently unable to gig. Hunters Bay Radio, in collaboration with Lake Of Bays Brewing Company/ Huntsville Brewhouse, is sponsoring live streaming concerts on Facebook, paying local musicians to perform live for an hour. The shows have been dubbed “QuaranTunes Facebook Live Concert Series”. I’ve never been more proud to be involved with our radio station, and I commend our fearless leader Jeff Carter, as well as Grant Nickalls, Jacob Kriger, Sarah Coombs, and all the other paid staff and volunteer hosts at Hunters Bay Radio for doing the great job right now. Not only are we fulfilling our mission statement, to provide informative, community-based programming and great music, but in these trying times, we are instilling our community with a re-assuring sense of solidarity. It’s not always easy to put on a brave face, but I see so many people doing just that. I give thanks for our frontline health care workers risking their lives daily, the first responders, the check out clerks at supermarkets, and everyone else who is working overtime to help the rest of us remain safe. If ever there was a time for people to think of others, it is now. If you can, offer to help an isolated senior or person in need, adhere to the hygiene and distancing guidelines essential to controlling this plague, and turn the other cheek. Now is not the time to be divisive and selfish. Actually, there is no right time for that. Stay safe, and “stay the blazes home!”

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3/30/20

Rattling around in the house as we have been for the past two weeks or so, ET, Shauna, and I have been ever mindful of the need to keep ourselves busy and active (and out of each other’s way). Certainly, one can fall prey to ennui, and to the preponderance of bad news out there. I have been encouraged by my communications with friends and neighbors who are making the best of a bad situation. Because I love to write, a solitary occupation by its nature, I have little problem spending time alone. In order to look the part, I have been growing my Corona Virus beard. I suppose it’s my version of a playoff beard. Normally cropped short, my beard is getting a bit scraggly, and I’m beginning to look like a hillbilly. Perhaps I should join a bluegrass band. Some of my bearded friends, guys like Buck Marshall, Sean Cotton, and Troy Sinister, can grow a full beard in no time. Mine is taking a bit longer. I passed myself in a mirror the other day and I saw Festus, that character from the old television series “Gunsmoke”, staring back at me.  

I just released two songs I wrote long ago, “Cabin Fever” and “Strange Holiday”, recorded shortly before the pandemic exploded. Both songs seem oddly appropriate for the times. Like so many other musicians and songwriters, I have occasionally posted my live performances, and will likely air a few new original songs over the coming weeks. Ever the shameless self-promoter, I figure I might as well present these songs while people are stuck at home and might be on their computers. In the past two weeks, I have received several submissions for my LYRICAL WORKERS show, and I’ve heard at least 5 original songs  dealing with our current crisis. Neil Diamond performed a rewrite of “Sweet Caroline” (Hands, washing hands/ Reaching out/Don’t’ touch me/ I won’t touch you). Artist Chris Mann performed “My Corona”, a very funny parody of The Knack’s hit single “My Sharona”. It’s funny because Shauna and I planned to write a parody of that song last week, but Mann beat us to the punch.

Shauna and I joined a private Facebook group of locals who are posting their usually light-hearted submissions about how they are coping with self-isolation. I suspect that 24-7 life at home has been somewhat challenging for more than a few. On the above-mentioned page there are posts of recipes, photos of wildlife, amusing anecdotes, and yes, some videos as well. Our friend Len Gray, who lives in nearby Burk’s Falls, recently posted three phone videos that were hilarious. Together they comprised a tongue-in-cheek video journal, depicting 11 days of Len’s sequester with his family. The video was choppy and made to resemble something a prisoner of war might say, locked in a windowless cell awaiting his imminent torture. Len discussed his ill-considered inclination to binge watch Mad Max movies with his young daughter, with the intention of apprising her of the coming apocalypse. This choice was wisely vetoed (on camera) by his more level-headed wife. He talked about his lack of hygiene, and the fact that he’d been wearing the same sweatpants for well over a week, and that he had not taken a shower in about as long. In one segment, which gave me the biggest belly laugh, he discusses “losing it” in a local supermarket, wherein he decided that it was his civic duty to warn customers that they were not practicing proper physical distancing. He went on to say that he was summarily banned from said supermarket. Of course, this was all in fun, but while Len was being hyperbolic and funny, he touched on the stress most of us are feeling these days. 

I hope you’re all coping with your isolation with at least a modicum of humour. I’m going to go look at myself in the mirror again (for the 40^th time today) to see if my beard has grown since I began writing this. Until next week I remain your finger on the pulse of humanity. Stay safe, self-isolate!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED