The Oppenheimer Report 2-2-09

Back up North for this week then back down to Buffalo. My sister is driving back there from Connecticut today and will be there for the week. I’ll drive down, hopefully at the end of the week, for the next shift of Operation Loyal Sons and Daughters.

We spoke to Dad yesterday while he was watching the Superbowl in his bedroom. He sounded like the old dad, and he even threw in a few wisecracks, but he is clearly much weaker than he was when he went into the hospital about a month ago. The man has prostate cancer, a myriad of heart problems, arthritis, and lots of problems stemming from the fact that he is bedridden for 22 hours per day. Still he survives and seems to be in pretty good spirits. I think he is an excellent example of someone who is aging gracefully.

Things are progressing at the new home, but the economy and several other formidable setbacks have caused us some big problems, not the least of which was our former plumber. By far, he has turned out to be the biggest disappointment on this job. What started off as his occasional tardiness evolved into a litany of excuses and half-finished work. During the time he was at our construction site, he gradually became less and less reliable. In hindsight, we should have let him go a long time ago, but almost like a battered wife, we kept coming back for more. The time lost and the havoc he wreaked on our other trades, many who were reliant on his timely completion of his work, will be costly. We now have what I hope are reliable plumbers to complete his unfinished work, some of which had to be redone. The worst part about all of this is that we all, including our builder, trusted this fool.

I was watching some of the talking heads on a financial segment of CNN the other night and they were of course discussing the bleak economic picture. While this global recession seems to deepen every day, and is perhaps worse than anyone would have imagined, recessions and even depressions are cyclical. Everyone wants to know how bad and how long. As the experts weighed in with their predictions and insights, one guy touched upon the variable which is hard to gauge: consumer confidence. There is a lot of outrage out there. A lot of people lost their jobs and/or their security because of this mortgage-backed securities debacle. Throw in a couple of Bernie Madoffs and we have a real crisis of confidence. No doubt, any of us who let ourselves become heavily leveraged, and spent more than we had can take much of the blame for the mess we’re in now. As we have all learned, “value” is a relative term, and what we are worth on paper can change overnight. Banking on value is risky. In the back of my mind, I can’t say I ever really trusted my government. I know that this cynical sentiment is almost a truism, and that a lot of us feel the same way about this. But a trust has been broken with our bankers, with our stock brokers, our real estate salespeople, and even our plumbers(!). When a trust is broken, how long does it take to rebuild? I used to shake my head at my frugal father, turning off lights when he left a room. After all, how much electricity is saved leaving a light off for an hour? But my dad lived through the Great Depression. Seventy years later, those memories are still clear in his mind. I think we’re all going to be learning some hard lessons over the years to come. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/26/09

For the past ten days or so, it has been rather hectic at the Oppenheimer household in Buffalo. We juggled nursing schedules and made adjustments to allow for the somewhat more complicated care-giving challenges that now confront us. Everything seems to be settling down now, and my sister and brother-in-law left to go home last Friday. SNAFU is I think the word I’m looking for … “situation normal, all fouled up”. Dad is too weak to stand on his own, but he needs to be upright in a chair for at least part of the day. We’ve rented a Hoyer lift, which is a device for lifting a patient out of bed and moving him or her into a chair. It’s quite a handy little machine. Basically, it involves a sling with lifting straps which is wrapped around the patient’s torso, then attached to a portable hydraulic lift. One simply jacks the patient out of bed and, while suspended in mid air, wheels him over to the desired location and gently lowers him down. There’s a bit of a learning curve involved in using it properly, but most of our nurses seem familiar with the drill. It certainly makes things a lot easier. It is strange watching my dad hoisted in the air like a piece of cargo.

Much of what has transpired over the past two weeks has been physically and emotionally draining for everyone involved. After my sister left, the nurses suggested that I should take some R&R leave as well. A week ago last Saturday, my pal Bob and I had planned to meet in Toronto for the annual International Boat Show. That is an annual outing which we both enjoy. This year, I had to cancel because of the family crisis, but as a joke, Bob suggested that we go to a little boat show presently being held in Western New York … at a shopping mall in Niagara Falls, N.Y. Last Saturday, Bob and I drove up to the Summit Park Mall for the big event, and while a bunch of fishing boats and outboard motors displayed in a shopping mall is hardly an international boat show, it was free and somewhat entertaining. Mostly, it was good to take a small road trip with one of my oldest and certainly best friends. As we sometimes do when we’re in the area, we visited the site of the Love Canal disaster. Many of the houses in that area have been bulldozed and new houses have popped up here and there, but the enormous fenced-off mound where the original problem occurred (and was hopefully contained) still looms ominously in the distance. After this sacred pilgrimage was completed, we drove up the Robert Moses Pkwy., following the spectacular Niagara Gorge all the way up to Old Fort Niagara on the south shore of Lake Ontario. It was a frigid but beautiful blue sky day, and as I gazed at the distant skyline of Toronto across the churning lake, for a moment I was free of guilt, ambivalence, doubt, confusion, frustration, and the forty other feelings competing to erode my sanity.

I’ve have known many friends and acquaintances in my life so far. Some have disappointed me, and I am sure I have disappointed some of them. For the most part though, I have been fortunate to say that I can call some really great people my friends. Someone once told me that you only need one or two really good friends in your life, and I think that is probably true. Bob is just such a friend. I know he will always be there if and when I need him -- I rely on that -- and he knows that I am there for him. At any given time, that loyalty might not involve anything more than going to a crappy boat show together, or the silent, mutual appreciation of a scenic drive. It might be a phone call in a blue moment. It is our communication, it is our long, colorful history together; the petty larcenies we committed together in our youth, the rock concerts we attended together, the failed love interests, the not-so-legendary stories we embellish, the off-color humor we share that nourishes our self-esteem. Bob has my number, spots my BS a mile away and calls me on it. I have had many friends, but one really good friend helped me weather the craziness of the past two weeks. And besides, how many people do YOU know who could do their bonding at Love Canal?
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/21/09

1/19/09 - Today is Martin Luther King Day, and I probably would not have known that except for the fact that I am writing this week’s report from Buffalo. There is a nasty intestinal flu floating around Buffalo, and last week my mom caught it. Shortly thereafter, my Dad contracted it as well and ended up in the hospital. A week ago last Sunday, he was admitted into the Buffalo General Hospital after becoming dangerously dehydrated, and one of his many vigilant nurses convinced him her was in grave danger if he didn’t go. Up North, Shauna and I agreed that at least one of us needed to remain there to address some critical code issues with the new house. After we ensured that Shauna would have indefinite support and assistance up there, I drove down to Buffalo on Monday. I could come back for her if needs be, but there was nothing much she could do for me down in Buffalo for the time being. Divide and conquer.

The past week has been a roller coaster. Doctors and nurses, opinions presented and difficult decisions made, and all the while we’re trying to focus on the main objective: doing what is right for Dad. We almost lost him on Wednesday, and I was told to bring Mom and my sister down to the hospital, perhaps to say goodbye. Then that evening, when I called over to the hospital to check on his condition, his nurse was laughing at one of his sarcastic zingers. We become hopeful, then there is a setback, then there is hope again, and so it goes. The uncertainty is hard. After reviewing a host of unattractive options, my sister and I have made a plan to allow him to come home, if he is able. As I am writing this, I’m not sure that will be possible, but he has been Lazarus, and surprised us many times before.

1/20/09 – Dad and I watched the Obama inauguration from his hospital room. We’ve made arrangements for him to be discharged tomorrow and to be brought home by ambulance. Before that happens, I need to disassemble and move his hospital bed from one room into another in the house, and to figure out a way to bring his motorized recliner/lift chair upstairs to his new bedroom. However long he now has, he’ll reside in his old (big) bedroom, with cable T.V., good nursing care, and whatever he needs to be comfortable. I didn’t really need to sell him on the idea of coming home from the hospital, but I did anyhow; I told him that he will now have perhaps the largest, best furnished single bed hospital room in Buffalo.
1/21/09- Dad was brought home by ambulance around noon, and with the help of four strong paramedics, he’s now resting comfortably upstairs. I went up and checked on him a few minutes ago and he’s sound asleep, sporting his bright red Cornell sherpa hat (he gets cold easily). Where we go from here is anybody’s guess. I know he is near the end, but how near I haven’t a clue.

If one good thing has come out of this difficult time, it is that I have been able to spend time with my sister and mother – more time than I remember spending with them in a long, long while. Father Time has really blindsided me and I was somewhat embarrassed by how out of touch I have been with them. Phone calls are no substitute for face time. In the past week there has been a lot of reminiscing, a lot of laughter, some tears, and the underlying confidence that, as a family we are, like most families, dysfunctional in some ways, but fundamentally solid in our foundation. Dad, I’m glad you’re home, sleep well tonight. Sorry the Sabres couldn’t pull off a win for you tonight, but I hope there will be other games for you to watch. 11:23 PM
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

The Oppenheimer Report 1/12/09

Down in Toronto last weekend, I took an exercise break and rode my bike down to Nathan Phillips Sq. to ice skate. Skating is a great form of exercise, and does not come fraught with the perils I have encountered while rollerblading. For one thing, ice skating is done on a rink, with other skaters. When I rollerblade, it is usually amidst a swarm of un-co-operative pedestrians, or worse yet, drivers. Anyhow, as I rode my bicycle down to the rink, I made an interesting observation. I was surprised by the number of bikers who had lit cigarettes dangling from their mouths. Doesn’t it seem a bit odd to you that someone should smoke while riding a bike? Kind of defeats the purpose, don’t you think?

Last week, I had a stress test up in the Huntsville Hospital. The past several months have been a little bit of a roller coaster and I and my doctor wanted to make sure the old ticker was still in tact. Apparently, the exercise has paid off. When the assistant to the cardiologist hooked me up to all the wires, he must have pegged me for a codger (probably my grey whiskers), because he advised me to stay on the treadmill “as long as I could,” in order for the cardiologist to get as much data as possible. I don’t think he or the cardiologist figured I’d stay on as long as I did, especially after they ramped up the speed, and in fact they had all the data they needed before I’d even broken a sweat. According to the results, I’m fit as a fiddle … physically at least.

Come the New Year, it seems many people make the same resolution – to get more exercise. I’ve belonged to several health clubs over the years, but I can’t stand them. I only belong so that I can swim indoors in the winter, and rarely if ever have I used any of the hamster machines. That’s what I call treadmills and stair machines. It seems as if, shortly after each new year begins, that’s when all the newbies flood into the health clubs to exercise furiously, for about a week or two, before going back to their beer-guzzling, pizza-hoovering, sedentary ways. I always made a point of avoiding the health clubs during that two week period. In fact, I don’t usually enjoy exercising around other people, unless I’m outside. I like to hike, I swim, I ride a bike, and sometimes I skate. I don’t really enjoy talking much while I’m exercising, and I really don’t want to listen to someone else talking. It seems the older I get, the less inclined I am to go to any trouble in order to exercise. I used to love skiing, then it became too much trouble, and too expensive. Skiing on a real mountain meant traveling a long distance, and once I was there, there was no assurance conditions would be good. Between the long lift lines, the high cost of a lift ticket, I finally gave up skiing. I remember sitting high up on a chair lift at Stowe Vermont one frigid morning; the wind was blowing, the wind chill was about thirty below, and I thought to myself, what the heck am I doing up here? I used to be a pretty good skier, but if I hit the slopes today, I’d probably pull a Sonny Bono and slam into a tree. For a while I used an indoor bike trainer which allowed me to use my own bike. All I needed to do was pop off the front wheel, mount the bike on this trainer, and I could ride my own bike indoors. I would watch an episode of Star Trek and I could almost forget I was exercising. That’s how I have managed to make exercise a regular thing. If it isn’t fun and easy I won’t do it. I finally wore out that trainer; I should get a new one. It’s a lot cheaper than joining a club.

Like most of my lifestyle changes, the decisions were not so much resolutions, as they were gradual evolutions. If I eat this food I will feel better. Stretch every so often and I don’t feel so stiff (a growing problem of late). More water, less beer. The latest evolution, and one which has been a long time coming, is the conscious effort to read more and to watch less television. Exercise for the brain … goodness knows, I could use a little of that!
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/5/09

First of all, I wish all of my readers a Happy New Year, and may 2009 AT LEAST be better than the last three months of 2008! We watched the ball drop in Times Square, as reported by Anderson Cooper and that irreverent, loud-mouthed Kathy whatshername from the “D List”. When the clock struck midnight, many of the frozen ball drop watchers of course broke into a chorus of “Auld Lang Syne”, which prompted me to ask the question “What’s up with THAT?”. Learning machine that I am, I had to know the history of Auld Lang Syne. According to Wikipedia, my “I’m-too-lazy-to-really-look-into-this” information source, Auld Lang Syne was originally a Scottish poem, written by Robert Burns in 1788, and put to the tune of an old folk song. The poem borrowed from earlier poems, and the phrase Auld Lang Syne pre-dates the Burns poem by about 200 years. It means, literally, “old, long, since”, or loosely translated, something like “long, long, ago,” or “days gone by.” Apparently, singing this song on New Year’s Day began as a Scottish tradition and spread around the world from there. Fascinating, eh? But all of you probably knew this trivia already.

Up north, we had the one-two punch from a crippling wind storm last week. Winds gusting to 100km/ hr. blew through the Muskokas wreaking havoc on power supplies and knocking down huge trees everywhere. In our rental bungalow, we were only without power for a little more than a day, and while that is nothing compared to the five days some folks up north suffered without power, it became a problem for those of us who could not pump out our basements. The house we’re living in temporarily is very cheaply built, and among its many other faults, it floods whenever there is a thaw. Short of the fact that it IS heated, it is about as bad as the cottage we knocked down in Katrine. This last thaw was quick and severe. We had about 2 feet of water in the (partially carpeted) basement, and no way to pump it out until the electricity was restored. What a mess! On top of this, we had to scramble to find a generator for our new home, because our generator on order has not yet arrived. Temperatures in the Muskokas quickly dropped from highs in the mid-50s to well below zero on New Year's Eve, and we needed to keep that house heated. To add insult to injury, our plumber has essentially disappeared and this has severely impacted the building project. As my mother-in-law often says “At least nobody’s in the hospital.” Yet.

2008 was hardly a banner year for the world, and as Israeli ground forces push into Gaza, it looks as if things are aren’t going to get better for the first part of 2009. Still, as we hoist our tumblers of reasonably priced pink sparkling wine from Australia (champagne has become far too expensive) “audaciously” we hope for a better future, one in which our leaders do not suffer from chronic myopia and purely political motivations…

“We two have paddled in the stream
From morning sun till dine
But seas between us broad have roared
Since auld lang syne."

May we all brave the roaring seas.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2009 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

"Madoff with the Money" - New Song

MADOFF WITH THE MONEY


BERNIE MADOFF BILKED THE BIG BUCKS FROM THE WEALTHY AND THE STRONG
AND IF YOU WENT WITH BERNIE WELL I HOPE YOU DIDN’T “GO LONG”
HOPE YOU GOT IT WHILE YOU COULD CAUSE BY NOW IT’S LIKELY GONE
AND IT ISN’T MUCH CONSOLATION THAT HE KNOWS THAT HE WAS WRONG

I USED TO THINK THOSE ENRON BOYS WERE THE BELL RINGERS OF GREED
BUT BERNIE’S PUT THEM ALL TO SHAME HE’S THE GREEDIEST INDEED
AND AS WE BAILOUT ALL THE SCUMBAGS WHO GAVE MONEY OUT FOR FREE
I JUST HOPE THE FEDS DON’T COME GUNNING FOR LITTLE SCMUCKS LIKE ME


CHO:

BERNIE MADOFF WITH YOUR MONEY, THAT DIRTY ROTTEN LOUSE
MADOFF WITH YOUR MONEY NOW YOU’RE GONNA LOSE YOUR HOUSE
YES HE MADOFF WITH THE MONEY, FIFTY BILLION DISAPPEARED
MADOFF WITH YOUR MONEY WITH HIS PONZI SMOKE AND MIRRORS


IT’S CLEAR THAT BUSH HAS BUNGLED THINGS I THINK THAT’S SAFE TO SAY
BUT WHO AMONG US REALLY FEELS OBAMA CAN SAVE THE DAY?
AND HOW ABOUT THOSE REGULATORS AND THE JOKERS AT THE SEC?
NOW WE KNOW THE PARTY’S OVER AND THAT NOTHING COMES FOR FREE

CHO:

WALL STREET PLAYS BY DIFFERENT RULES, BUT THE HORSE HAS LEFT THE GATE
IF YOU THINK IT’S TIME TO REINVEST, I THINK YOU’RE A LITTLE LATE
MOST PEOPLE WORK HARD FOR THEIR MONEY AND FOR THEM THIS IS ALL INSANE
THAT THE BAD GUYS GO UNPUNISHED WHILE THE REST OF US FEEL PAIN


BANKERS, BROKERS, CONGRESSMEN, THE AUTO INDUSTRY
ALMOST EVERYONE HAS LET US DOWN, I THINK IT’S CLEAR TO SEE
AND IF YOU TRUSTED GUYS LIKE BERNIE YOU PROBABLY LOST YOUR ASS
YOU SHOULD PUT YOUR MONEY IN A MATTRESS, THEN IT WON’T DISAPPEAR SO FAST

BERNIE MADOFF WITH YOUR MONEY,THAT DIRTY ROTTEN LOUSE
YES HE’S MADOFF WITH THE MONEY BUT HE GETS TO KEEP HIS HOUSE
THOUGH HE WEARS AN ANKLE BRACELET CONFINED BY HOUSE ARREST
PERHAPS SOMETHING A LITTLE LESS COMFORTABLE MIGHT BE MORE APPROPRAITE


WRITTEN BY JAMIE OPPENHEIMER C2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The OppenheimerReport - 12/17/08

I just returned from Buffalo where I very much enjoyed the celebration of my Aunt Bobbi’s 86th, along with some relatives I have not seen in a long time. It was good to reunite with those people, to see children I remember as rug rats now all grown up, and to catch up on the lives of people with whom I have lost touch. I’m making every effort to spend more time in Buffalo these days. It seems to make my parents happy, and I’ve been conspicuously absent from Buffalo for much of the past two years. I don’t want to look back when they are no longer around and feel as if I could have spent more time with them. Given that Dad is 98 and Mom is 89, there is a lot of down time during my visits. Both of them sleep a lot during the day, so I use that time to do some of the much-needed repairs on their big house. I delude myself into thinking that if I make some of these repairs to the house then I am somehow redeeming myself as a son. And what do they call that river in Egypt?

As we close in on Christmas, I recently had occasion to visit a Future Shop electronics store in Toronto. I was looking for a “Bluetooth” headset, as it is now illegal to use a cell phone in my car without one. I ended up buying a very inexpensive one at one of the 629 discount computer stores near our apartment, but my visit to Future Shop was a reminder of just how out of step I have become with the relentless march of progress. By the way, it was hard to believe that we are in the middle of an economic crisis, judging from the large number of customers in that store. I still own an old VCR, even though almost everyone else has switched to DVD. My parents even have a DVD player; they don’t know how to use it but they have one. I was the last person to buy a CD player, stubbornly clinging to my cassette and record players, until it became virtually impossible to find new music in any other medium. As for video, I figured I would wait to buy a DVD player until the recorders came down in price. Once again, I must have missed the mark. Actually, I may be ahead of the curve, because it looks as if there is a new kid on the block, and his name is Blue Ray. I have no idea what blue ray technology is, but I think it is designed to replace conventional DVD players. They change this video and audio stuff more often than Canada Post raises the price of their postage stamps. And as for cell phones, fuggetabottit.

Finally, in the I-m-Mad-As-Hell-But-What-Can-I-Do-About-It-Anyway department, I need to rant for a moment about that Bernie Madoff (with the goods) guy, bilking investors out of $50 Billion in perhaps the world’s biggest Ponzi scheme. On top of the unfathomable enormity of the crime, the part that sends me into a convulsive, twitching, frenzied, frothing fit of indignation is that he will serve whatever term he receives under house arrest … in his SEVEN MILLION DOLLAR Manhattan apartment! It wasn’t all that long ago that we hung a person for stealing a horse; why aren’t we crucifying this guy?? It seems to me that he symbolizes everything that has gone wrong with our society. This man was at one time the Chairman of the Board of NASDAQ, and an esteemed member of the investment community! Do you think maybe the SEC dropped the ball on this one? I’m thinking perhaps a public gelding, followed by a brief stoning, and finally a hydrochloric acid enema. My goodness, I thought that Koslowski guy was bad, and of course those thieves at Enron and Adelphia, but this guy is the “Greed and Avarice” bell ringer. Seriously folks, how do you suppose the French Revolution got started? And what do I want for Chanukah? Madoff’s posh Manhattan apartment, sold to the highest bidder. Let that rat bastard live in a card board box for the next ten winters. Oh, by the way, Happy Holidays!
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 12-8-08

I lost a good friend last week. His name is Morris Newberger, but he was generally referred to as “Brother” Newberger in my family. He and his sister Babbette lived with my maternal grandparents for a while after their parents died prematurely. Morry built a wonderful life from nothing, became a successful entrepreneur, a philanthropist, a good father, a good brother, and a loving husband. I learned a lot about my grandfather from him, and I’m glad I got to know him, albeit late in his life (and mine). I will re-connect with that leg of my family when I go down to Buffalo on Friday to celebrate Babbette’s birthday. Morry’s daughter will come in from Dallas for the occasion and I look forward to catching up with some cousins I haven’t seen in many years. I’m starting to see members of my ever-shrinking family disappear, and I want to take every opportunity to connect with those who are still here.

O.J.’s finally going to the “Big House”, and isn’t it ironic what finally sent him there? Kidnapping and assault are hardly as bad a murder. It’s like Al Capone getting tagged for tax evasion. The Brown family has to be relieved. So many things about Simpson are maddening to me. I couldn’t believe that the guy could be so arrogant as to write a book entitled “If I Did It”. Lock that sociopath up and throw away the key. Of course, he could be out on appeal if someone can prove he didn’t get a fair trial, but I have faith that the same system he played so effectively can play him, and will keep him behind bars for a long while. They kept replaying the video of the moment when he was acquitted back in the mid-nineties. I couldn’t help wondering what Robert Kardashian(sp?), one of his (now-deceased) defense attorneys, was thinking at that moment, because it looks to me as if he was thinking “My g-d, we just got a murderer off scott free. He looks shocked and appalled.

The other day I came to the sudden realization that I did not own a pair of decent shoes. All of my walking shoes are completely worn out.. I’ve been wearing waterproof duck shoes and boots almost exclusively for the past six months, which is fine for up North. When I am in Toronto or Buffalo, a pair of casual shoes is in order. For the past ten years I have worn Ecco shoes almost exclusively, but for some reason, when they wear out, they cannot be re-soled. Those shoes are very comfortable, and they last a very long time, but when the soles wear out, the shoes are to be thrown out. I owned four pairs of these shoes and all of them had holes in the soles. I dislike shopping for any kind of clothing, especially shoes, and I want to get the process over as soon as possible. I have not bought a pair of shoes in ten years, and I was surprised to find out how difficult it was going to be to find something I would choose to wear ... even in Toronto. As almost anyone who knows me is aware, I am not a slave to fashion. I simply wanted a pair of plain, black walking shoes that were casual, stylish and comfortable. What I found were a lot of shoes that fall into two categories: “Elf” and “Pilgrim”. The elf shoes have very long, pointy toes and are, to me, very silly looking. The pilgrim shoes are equally silly, with a sort of flat or bull nose toe. Some even had buckles! Neither is anything like what I would choose to wear. I could order from a catalogue, but there is always the chance the shoes won’t fit, and I’d have to wait a week to ten days for them to arrive. I needed a pair of shoes now. I found a store that sells Eccos but in the ten years since I bought my last pair, they have become really expensive. In fact, any shoe I did find, which remotely appealed to me, was very expensive. I finally went to trusty Sears, and they had a big sale on shoes. I bought a perfectly suitable pair of walking shoes for sixty bucks which should tide me over for a year or two. Now, at least I won’t be walking around with holes in my soles. I wonder if they just sell the elf shoes around Christmas. And on that subject, I think the pilgrim shoes should have been cheaper. After all, Thanksgiving is over.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12/1/08

Shauna and I just returned from visiting my parents in Buffalo for the American Thanksgiving holiday, and every year that holiday seems to have more meaning for me. As I and my immediate family sat down for Thanksgiving dinner, around the table at which I’d had the good fortune to eat my supper for well over forty years, I was profoundly aware of all of my blessings. I rarely give toasts, but this year I did, and I expressed my gratitude for those blessings. On top of the freedom to live in a Democratic society, and the good fortune to be healthy, and the love of my family … how much better does it get than to be able to share a celebration with four generations of my family? My parents were at the table, and we also had a great grandchild celebrating Thanksgiving with us this year (see photo above).

When I was younger, it seemed as if the starting gun for Christmas “cheer” began the day after the American Thanksgiving. These days, and I use as my barometer the displays at the Huntsville dollar store, the opening day for Christmas madness is sometime in late September. No sense in waiting until the last minute to buy that plastic Christmas wreath, or whatever other synthetic decoration you’ve had your eye on. While you’re at it, why not buy some Halloween candy, or perhaps a pair of leftover heart-shaped handcuffs (kinky eh?) from Valentine’s Day. You’re never too early to prepare for an upcoming holiday. The truth is, I feel as if the past year has flown so fast that all of these holidays are simply a blur on the swiftly passing landscape. I was down in Toronto to pick up some supplies several weeks ago, and I found a list on my desk of the staff in our apartment building to whom we gave holiday tips last year. Surely, much has happened since last Christmas, but when I see something I did a year ago, and it seems like a few weeks ago, understandably I feel temporally challenged.

Of course, with Christmas "just around the corner", we have the flurry of holiday commercials to accompany it. Once again, I feel honor bound to point out that, in my estimation, a commercial depicting Santa shocked into unconsciousness by a couple of giant M&M candies is not a good thing for a child to see. Besides, who is going to want to eat the candy that gave Santa a heart attack? And do these candies even feel remorse? As I do every year around this time, I heartily recommend that you read a piece of work by my favorite comedic author, David Sedaris, entitled “SantaLand Diaries”. Though not the funniest thing Sedaris has ever written, that story fairly well sums up the Christmas spirit as I see it. I know it is available in one of his earlier books “Barrel Fever” but it may be available in cyberspace as well. Years ago, I heard Sedaris read the whole twisted story (really more of a mock journal) on public radio while I was driving in my car, and I almost ran off the road because I was convulsing in laughter. His irreverent observations still make me chuckle today. If the mistletoe mafia is bleeding you dry and you need to inject some desperately needed perspective into your holiday activities, I suggest that Mr. Sedaris’ humorous short story might just be the therapy you seek. Finally, I hope that, during this holiday season, you will find the time to re-connect with your families, and to remember that there is always something for which to be thankful. I for one have made some serious adjustments to my definition of good fortune -Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/3/08

Wednesday - Winter’s frosty breath chilled me to the bone tonight as Jasper and I took our evening constitutional. The weather man has been threatening snow for the past several days, but as yet, we have not seen much. Jasper doesn’t seem to mind and is in fact energized by the cold weather. I, on the other hand, am already pining for Spring.

Saturday – Maybe I spoke too soon, today was beautiful, and they’re calling for warm weather this week. Last year, I believe around the middle of November, we had a severe Winter storm up north. Shauna and I were delayed in leaving Toronto, and by the time we traveled north, our retractable dock up in Katrine was frozen into the lake. When we left for Toronto, we never dreamed the weather would change so quickly, and so early. By the time we had returned, we had to rely on our builder (Glenn) to chainsaw the ice from around the dock to free it up enough so that I could crank it out of the water.

Sunday – Today was spent removing the last remnants of the stuff from the old cottage, which we had stored in a trailer on the property. Some of it went into the as yet unfinished new log home, some of it went to our temporary rental bungalow in Burk’s Falls, and some of it went to the dump. When we closed the old cottage, two years ago, we had intended to go through everything before it was moved into storage, but Shauna’s dad fell gravely ill, and we ended up staying in Toronto for the six week window of opportunity we thought we’d have to go through all that stuff. Not knowing what we would save or throw out, the poor builders saved everything and moved it into storage. That trailer was packed full of all of the furniture, windows, doors, hardware, and a lot of the other extraneous stuff we never intended to save from the old cottage. It was a monumental job to move it all out. Three days later, we are nowhere near done sorting out what should stay and what should go. The good news is, psychologically, it is refreshing to be moving things into the new home. We’re still a long way from completion, but at least the end is in sight. The dock incident and the closing of the old cottage are lessons learned: expect unforeseen delays and plan accordingly.

Monday – Tomorrow, America will elect a new president, and it will probably be Barack Obama, judging by the latest polling results. It’s amusing to see the donkeys so gun shy after the last two “stolen” elections, but as I said months ago, even before Obama became the Democratic candidate, the donkeys would have to work pretty hard to blow this one. Even Billy Carter might have looked good after eight years of Dubya’s nonsense. If anything good has come of the failed Bush administration, it is the spreading hope that many Americans believe their votes are important. Democracy isn't perfect, but it tends to be self-correcting. I am hopeful that the Bush failure will energize the American voters to be more pro-active in the election process. No matter which candidate wins this election, he will have his work cut out for him. With an astronomical trade deficit, an enormous national debt, a tanking economy, and two wars bleeding us dry, America is in dire need of effective leadership. If Obama can fill the bill, as so many believe he can, then I say long live the new king.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report -10/27/08

It has been a long time since I discussed progress towards the completion of our log home. Indeed, there have been formidable setbacks, and we are not out of the woods yet. I will not go into the details right now, but let it suffice to say I could and may someday write a book about the perils and pitfalls of custom log home construction. Not an insignificant factor in the delays we have experienced has been the steep downturn in the economy. While many across North America are facing foreclosure, we are in the final stages of completing a new home project which has taken us from a period of relative prosperity into a period of economic peril. Seventeen months into the project, over-budget and much-delayed, we are optimistic that we won’t need to wait much longer. As Winter fast approaches, Shauna and I have high hopes that the house will be habitable by December (2008).

Floors have been laid and stained in all but the main living room, where the stone mason is several weeks away from completing his stone work on the fireplace. When that fireplace is done, it will be a unique design; one which the stone mason tells us incorporates several ground-breaking techniques. The abstract mountain design above the glass mantel, done in a deceptively random dry pack of granite and quartz, promises to be a one-of-a-kind work of art. Lights are on, electrical outlets are live, all interior walls are up and stained, kitchen and bathroom cabinetry should be installed soon, all plumbing is in place and ready to be hooked up to plumbing fixtures, which are all on site. HVAC is in and ready to be fired up. A week ago last Friday, Shauna and I watched in fascination as the excavation and installation of the septic system took place. Once the septic system is inspected and approved, toilets and sinks can be installed and made operational. If you go to our photo website (click on the JasperBarkLodge link) you can see the wood stove vanity we designed, recently placed in the powder room. At present, door hardware is being installed and doors are being hung. As each fit and finish detail is completed, Shauna and I are gradually becoming re-assured that our decisions were, for the most part, correct for what we’d hoped to accomplish. With no previous experience at this sort of thing, we had no idea whether our vision on paper would properly translate well in 3-D.

Throughout the process there have been many complications, necessitating last minute decisions/compromises which were required when we were least equipped to make them. I could not possibly explain to you how challenging this build has been. Both of us are physically and mentally exhausted by the process. As I have said over and over in past reports, custom log home construction poses its own unique set of challenges, and no matter how well engineered the house may be, there is always something, some glitch, no one anticipated.

While “Joe the plumber” gets his fifteen minutes of fame (notoriety?) playing the man in the street, as Barack Obama surges ahead in the polls simply by laying low and letting the Republicans gnaw each other to political death, as the economic ball bounces around near the quicksand bottom of the stock market, and as so many around the world are wondering how bad the next twelve to twenty-four months will really be, I look forward to reclaiming my twisted sense of humor and stepping away from our myopic focus on this building project. Between politics and this house, I may have driven away even my last twelve loyal readers … I promise, I’ll be back, some day!
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/13/08

As I begin this report on Friday, the Dow is bouncing around in negative territory, dropping 200 points in a heartbeat. On this the eighth straight day of declines, you know that things are bad because CNN is featuring positive thought psychologists. I heard a stat earlier today indicating that the stock market is down almost 40% over its all time high, and this is clearly having its effects in the world financial markets. There are no longer debates about whether or not we are in a recession, but now the question is “where is the bottom?” For those of us who have never been through such a severe economic crisis, it might be easy to panic. There are probably a few high flyers out there who have known nothing but prosperity in their lives. I certainly fall into the category of lucky people who has never gone without.

I watched Obama and McCain debate in the recent Town Hall debate in Nashville, and I’d hate to be in either of those men’s shoes right now. I think McCain clearly has the uphill battle and, despite what I consider to be a Democratic tendency to self destruct, I think this one is in the bag for the donkeys. No matter how inexperienced, or how liberal or terrorist-befriending the Elephants want to make Obama out to be, it is those pesky pachyderms who have been at the helm for the past 8 years. They are perceived to have frittered away America’s good will, pouring the profits into the pockets of a few rich old white men. At least that’s what we’re told, and to a greater or lesser extent, is probably true. To oversimplify, it may be the widely held public inclination to elect Robin Hood, because the Sheriff of Nottingham crossed the line.

I’m as lost and concerned as the next American, but what worries me the most is that no leaders have emerged in such a long time. Bush certainly lowered the bar. I’m inclined to think Sarah Palin is a bit of a bonehead, but one thing she said in the V.P debate was important to hear. We, the voters, bear a good deal of the responsibility for our plight. We the voters should be accountable for our actions, and we in large part haven’t been. Did we not think that spending more than we have would come back to haunt us? Ever hear of the “greater fool” theory? This guy paid a lot for this house, so that one must be worth even more. We elect these “crooks” in Washington and we comprise the special interests and earmarks for which they lobby. We have seen the enemy and he is us.

Meanwhile, suddenly the richest nation ain’t so rich anymore, and it’s taking the rest of the first world economies down with it. Will prosperity once again blossom? Historically it has. Will North Americans ever figure out how lucky they were? Probably not. With every generation, that lesson seems to get harder to learn. I need only glance at the International Herald Tribune, if I want to remind myself of my unbelievable good fortune. I can check out the famine in Somalia, learn about what Mugabe is once again doing in Zimbabwe, or spend a few paragraphs in Afghanistan. Some of us think we understand privation, because our portfolios are temporarily down 30-40%. Life is the great equalizer, isn’t it? By the luck of the draw, some of us will die before our time. Some of us will do great things to aid mankind before we leave, some of us will commit unspeakable atrocities; some of us will do absolutely nothing. Maybe this global financial crisis will even out the playing field a little. Maybe some good will even come of it. Perhaps this is our economic French Revolution, absent the guillotines but complete with the justifiably angry, indignant mobs. I am hopeful fear will give way to ingenuity, and that necessity will turn laziness and complacency into productivity. I know if I lose everything I have, and I have had a lot, I will always consider myself a fortunate man. Good timing, because today is the Canadian Thanksgiving.

- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 9/23/08

We’ve been living here in Burk’s Falls since last November, and whenever I try to explain to a local resident where we reside, I tell him or her that we’re in the house next to the one with the elephant mural painted on the garage door. A lady named Beryl was the owner of that house and, though I never met her, I know people called her The Elephant Lady”, because she collected all things related to elephants. Beryl died recently, and there was a big garage sale in front of her house over Labour Day weekend.

Because we are presently living next door, I was curious to see what was up for sale. There were a lot of people rummaging around, and I assumed there was some good booty available. I ended up buying some elephant figurines and a little brass bell that had the word “Jasper” stamped on it. Shauna went over a little later and bought a bunch of stuff which is now sitting in one of the empty bedrooms in our Burk’s Falls bungalow.

Over the several days preceding the garage sale, I had occasion to meet all of Beryl’s children, as they prepared to dispose of all of their mother’s belongings. It was strange to watch that process unfold, knowing as I do that this day will come someday soon for me and my sister. Beryl’s children seemed resolved to make sure that much of Beryl’s stuff sold, and they didn’t seem all that concerned with achieving the highest price. Almost everything was cheap. I think I can understand their desire to get rid of all those possessions. Keep some mementoes, some things that are special to you, and let the rest go. After all, you can’t keep it all, and you can’t take it with you.

After the sale was over, Shauna and I were invited over for the late night after party, wherein all the kids and their spouses did some serious imbibing to let off some steam from what had likely been a stressful experience. There is a grim finality to liquidating an estate. There were tears, there was laughter, there were stories about this old woman, whom Shauna and I had never met, but whom we came to know through her children. Clearly there was a lot of love and emotion in that family. We learned of Beryl’s world travels, of her late husband, of her likes and dislikes. All of the spouses of Beryl’s children referred to themselves as “the outlaws” because, at some point or another, all of those IN-laws had had at least one run-in with this strong-minded woman.

I remember feeling weird after the weekend was over, because after all Beryl’s kids had packed up their cars and left, I realized that I was going to miss them. They were all a lot of fun and I liked each and every one of them. I even liked their kids. Indeed, you can’t take it with you, and he who dies with the most toys does NOT win. I know I’ve accumulated too much stuff in my short life, and I don’t even have any kids who will be charged with the task of disposing of it all. To whom do I leave an antique post card collection? In the end, it’s not the rattan elephant baskets or the embroidered linens, or the valuable ceramic collectibles that define a person, it is the love that he or she has given and received. I can say this … “The Elephant Lady” was well loved.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 9/15/08

It’s about 10:30 AM, and as I write this, I’m glancing over at the attention deficit disorder channel, featuring eighty bits of information on one screen. The talking head squished into the upper left hand corner of the screen is speculating about the financial ramifications of Lehman Bros. imminent declaration of bankruptcy. This may be the most significant “correction” Wall Street has felt in a long, long time, and it has sent world financial markets tumbling. Oops, there goes another $60 Billion! Easy come, easy go. Yesterday morning, I watched Alan Greenspan interviewed, and, when asked if Lehman Brothers should be bailed out by the Federal government, he said probably not. He did imply that government assistance is sometimes necessary (Bear Stearns) to stabilize global markets. When this kind of financial meltdown occurs I always want to punish the destructive risk takers. Greenspan advises us to let the market sort things out, but I think there should be dire consequences for the kind of unbridled greed that causes people to lose this kind of money. Public stonings … something.I’m still bristling from the S&L crisis back in the eighties … do you remember Charles Keating and that whole pack of banking hyenas. Bank Of America is taking over Merrill Lynch for $50 Billion, Fannie and Ginnie Mae fall under government control and, while the sky may not be falling, there is definitely a palpable sense of concern in financial markets. It seems to me that, every twenty years or so, government regulators leave the lid off the cookie jar and POOF! , all the cookies disappear.

And speaking of money … why is it that the cost of a barrel of oil down (Ike didn’t do as much damage to Gulf Coast refineries as predicted) but the price of a gallon of gas is up? In Buffalo last weekend, it was only up a little bit, but here in Toronto, it was up about .50 per gallon. I just saw something flash across the screen (next to an ad for Depends) informing me that GM lost $58 Billion in the last eighteen months. Gee guys, maybe, as you have so often done before, you missed the market for hybrids and other fuel efficient cars. GM wants a bailout too. I don’t think that is going to happen.

I was down in Buffalo last weekend to celebrate my Mom’s 89th birthday. What does one buy the octogenarian, soon to be a nonagenarian, who has everything? I made a list of repairs that needed to be made around the house and did what I could. At least it was a meaningful gift, unlike the birthday card my brother-in-law so generously bought for us to give her. It depicted a seriously butt-ugly Chihuahua on the front, dressed in a powder blue pant suit. When one opens up the card it reads: “Happy birthday, you wild thing!” and this is musically accompanied by a recording of the original Troggs’ version of “Wild Thing”. I’m going to kill my brother-in-law. On the plus side, the Bills are undefeated, so far. I must be a glutton for punishment … the two teams I follow are the Bills and the Leafs. Have a good week!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 9/8/08

This week, the hurricane to watch is Ike. It walloped Cuba as a Category 3 hurricane and, while it has been downgraded to a “1”, tracking models presently predict it will cross the Gulf of Mexico, where it will likely pick up steam before nailing the Gulf coast somewhere around Texas. At present, it will likely not threaten the Keys, but it may wreck a few oil rigs in the northwestern part of the gulf. Of course, no one really knows exactly where it will hit the coast until it becomes an imminent threat on Thursday or Friday. What amazes me is the cavalier attitude of the Key Westers in Florida, who in large part chose to ignore evacuation orders in advance of Ike’s potential damaging winds. Granted, experienced, long time residents of the Keys have ridden out a lot of storms, and perhaps they are good at following the weather. Still, if a big one does hit, and they don’t get out, they’re really screwed. There’s only one road in and out, and that won’t be an option once the winds pick up. Apparently, there was a huge storm that hit Key West back in the 30’s, and the storm surge was about 18 feet. To put that into perspective, Key West is about 4 feet above sea level, so anther fourteen feet of water probably did some serious damage. Now fast forward 78 years, and imagine how much more populated the island is today. Remember the how many people perished after that earthquake-generated tsunami in Indonesia? By the way, has anybody else noticed how short our attention span is for the devastating tragedies in other parts of the world … places like Myanmar, Indonesia, and China? I guarantee you this; if Ike makes a direct hit on Key West, and blindsides the entire population of that community, we’ll hear about it ad nauseam on every Western news channel for the next three months. Katrina was horrible, and what happened in New Orleans was truly a tragedy. Still, do not the laws of gravity apply in America, as they do elsewhere? The city is built well below sea level for heaven’s sake. Who build’s a city, in a hurricane-prone region, below sea level? It makes no sense. And if you do preside over a community like that, in the (arguably) richest nation in the world, is it not your responsibility to protect your citizens with massive, steel-reinforced concrete levees and mandatory escape plans? I’m talking about the State of Louisiana here. It constantly amazes me that, with all the advances in technology and forecasting, with all the improvements in construction, and with all the recorded history we have from which to learn, we are still largely at the mercy of the elements, and still making the same mistakes. Nature is a mother and she takes no prisoners.

The other day, as I pulled into the driveway of our new, unfinished home, I noticed an animal lounging in the middle of the road. Upon closer inspection I realized it was a fox. It got up and slowly trotted away as I approached, but I found that strange. When I came back up the driveway hours later, there it was again, lying in the middle of the road. I got out my camera and took some pictures of it. I’ve never seen a fox that wasn’t wary of humans, and my immediate concern was that it was rabid. When I got home, I called the wildlife control department in Bracebridge and told them of my concern. The wildlife representative to me that rabies is not a big problem up in the Muskokas, and that the fox was, judging by my description, probably just hanging out it (chillin’) in what it deemed to be a non-threatening environment. It did look like it might be pretty old; maybe it just didn’t care anymore. Still, I didn’t want it to turn into the first fox road kill I’ve ever seen. The wildlife guy told me that I could live trap it and bring it to a wildlife center, where they would test it and, if necessary, put it to sleep. That sounded like a lot of trouble and involved about 100 miles of driving. I guess, like the Key Westers, and all the rest of us whom I include in the clueless population “category”, I’ll roll the dice and let Mother Nature call the shots. After all, one way or another, she will anyhow.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 9/3/08

A belated Happy Labor Day! How odd that, just after the third year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, The Big Easy faced Hurricane Gustav, a potentially dangerous Category 2 hurricane. As I began writing this week’s report on Monday, I was watching a canal levee, reinforced after Katrina, overflowing into the 9th Ward of New Orleans. The first levee break in the Katrina disaster was partly the result of a barge slamming against a levee wall, and there was a barge bobbing around in the canal during this latest hurricane. I would have thought that, having made that mistake once already, the people “in charge” would have moved all the big boats out of harm’s way. As it turned out, New Orleans came out of this one relatively unscathed, but the question is, what will happen if another Category 3 or higher strikes? Watch out for Hanna, Ike, and Josephine, now brewing in the Atlantic.

Last week, Republican presidential nominee John McCain chose Alaska Governor Sarah Palin to be his running mate, and that decision left many political pundits baffled. Most Americans had never heard of Palin before McCain picked her, and McCain admits he’d only met her one time previously. Perhaps that’s a good thing, disgusted as most voters are with the status quo. Still, after eight years of enduring a president who let the church rule the state, I’m not sure swing voters are going to embrace a creationist for V.P. Add to that the fact that Palin’s 17 year-old daughter is pregnant, and we may have some potential media problems. Public perception is everything, right? Was it Honest Abe who made the observation: never over-estimate the intelligence of the American voter? Humorist Bill Maher was talking about that very subject in a recent television interview. We can complain all we want about the quality of our elected officials, but we, the voters, are in large part to blame for the candidates we generate. We are the boneheads who buy the argument that offshore drilling is going to solve the energy crisis, or that a carbon tax will resolve the global warming crisis ... or that having a pregnant 17 year-old daughter in some way confirms that Ms. Palin would not be a qualified Vice Presidential candidate. We’re the ones who focus on a candidate’s personal life while ignoring their qualifications. Anyhow, she’ll be speaking at the Republican National Convention in St. Paul tonight, and I’ll be interested to hear what she has to say.

My reports may be a little shorter in the next several weeks. There is a lot going on in our lives right now and it is distracting me from what I love to do, namely to write. For the past two mornings, I helped apply stain on our new pine floors (on the second floor). I suppose the builder doesn’t need my help, but I wanted to put my mark on the house and they agreed to let me do so. It's difficult to believe that summer is over already. I was reminded of that fact as I followed a school bus to our temporary house this morning.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 8/29/08

Once again, I am in Olympics withdrawal mode. We watched part of the closing ceremonies of the Beijing Olympics on Sunday, and it was almost as spectacular as the opening ceremonies. Them Chinese sure know how to put on a good show. I loved the fireworks. Clearly, they have no problem recruiting volunteers; there were over 500,000 (mandatory) volunteers involved in this international event. I watched quite a lot of the Olympics competitions this year, including many of swimming and running events. I even caught some of the controversial gymnastics competition wherein scoring was suspect. In one case, a tie-breaker was ultimately decided in favor of the host country, and there was quite a lot of discussion about the impartiality of that decision. The judges were not Chinese, but these days, I wonder if political influences had anything to do with the scoring. I am reminded of the figure skating scandal in the recent winter Olympics. I watched several events I’d never seen before. I’ve never before seen a mountain bike event, nor had I ever watched synchronized diving. Armchair quarterback that I am, I found myself judging the divers as they performed. This one made too big a splash … that one’s legs were too far apart …those two were out of sync. That’s part of the fun of the Olympics for me, deciding who should get what score.

At present, we are embroiled in a controversial land issue regarding a road allowance which abuts our land in Katrine. When we traded our next door neighbor some of our water frontage in return for some of his back land, we became eligible to purchase a portion of unopened road allowance owned (I believe) by Armour Township. The rule is that we can apply to purchase half the width of the road allowance, in other words 33 feet, which abuts our land. We applied to acquire the entire 66 feet, reasoning that the owner on the other side would have no use for this land. As so often happens in land issues – and I saw this quite a bit in my 25 years of real estate experience – neighbors get strange when something might change near their property. We have no need for the land we are applying to acquire, other than that it provides a buffer against public access. Somehow, one of the neighbors – the one with whom we didn’t trade land -- who has been particularly difficult and combative wherein our construction project is concerned, has riled up the other neighbors, and is protesting our application. Angry letters have been sent to the town indicating to me that the authors have no idea what is being contemplated. There has been so much misinformation disseminated about this proposed land purchase that I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that everyone thinks we’re contemplating the construction of a massage parlor. I’m not sure the Dali Lama could bring about a peaceful solution to this mess, but I have spent much of the past two weeks in damage control mode. I have met with nervous neighbors and written a long, carefully worded explanation of exactly what we hope to achieve, clearly pointing that no construction is contemplated, and that none of our proposed acquisition really changes anything influencing anyone’s property but our own. Of course, carefully writing something and insuring that it is carefully read are two very different things. In any event, I hope that the truth will prevail in the end and, if town politics (read fear of litigation) quashes this acquisition, then so be it. And speaking of disinformation…

I watched Barack Obama’s big ”I’m the Man” speech at the Democratic Convention tonight, which coincided with the 45th anniversary of the Martin Luther King “I Have a Dream” speech. Obama’s an impressive orator, and that is a refreshing change over Dubya’s pathetic inability to string words together. Nevertheless, talk is cheap, and it seems no politicians ever deliver the goods. I am reminded of Papa Bush’s infamous “read my lips” comments so many years ago. Secretly, I hope Obama wins, because I want to believe that the disenfranchised middle class will once again become invested in the American political system. My worry is that, just as Bush proved to be too far to the right, Obama will prove to be equally far to the left. Was it Socrates who said “nothing in excess”? The Republicans will try and portray Obama as weak on international matters, and the Democrats will, of course, point out McCain’s similarities to the failed Bush administration. In the end, come November, it will boil down to the same beauty contest it has always been. As I’ve said before, if the Dems can’t win this one then, just as the Toronto Maple Leafs are now doing, it may be time to “rebuild from the ground up”.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 8/18/08

First of all, I need to acknowledge Shauna's 50th birthday, which took place last Thursday. Because of the insanity which has characterized our life over the past year (actually, the past three years), we chose a simple but meaningful celebration with immediate family. I think it was the right call, and I'm pretty sure Shauna had a good time.

Soul singer Isaac Hayes passed away last week at the age of 65. He penned a lot of good songs, and he was a definitive musical influence in the genre of soul music. In my opinion, the theme from “Shaft” was not one of his greatest efforts, but that is perhaps his most recognizable song. I have a great live recording of Hayes playing the Sands in Vegas, which I inherited from my late brother-in-law Jordan. I don’t think it added anything to the news story of Hayes’ demise to point out that he was found “collapsed next to his treadmill”. When I think of Isaac Hayes, I picture him donned in his badass chains and leather; I don’t want to picture one of the world’s coolest musicians, sprawled out on the carpet wearing some polyester gym suit, clutching a bottle of Gatorade. Indeed, there is no dignity in death, but I feel the reporting of a celebrity’s demise should be limited to that which killed him or her. Keep it brief and leave it to family and friends (or the National Enquirer) to reveal the details. Of course, there are exceptions to that rule. If, for instance, the celebrity is someone we collectively can’t stand, and his or her death was bizarre, then I want the details. If the once notorious Joey Buttafuoco should be squished into a pulpy mass of pureed fat and mangled organs by an auto wrecking machine, under questionable circumstances (read mob hit), by all means, give me the gory details. Comedian Bernie Mac also passed away last week, and he was only 52.

The Beijing Summer Olympics started a little over a week ago, and last week, I was so pre-occupied with a story about my own personal appearance, that I neglected to mention how impressed I was with the opening ceremonies. They were simply spectacular. This is a truly momentous event … China is being opened up – with obvious monitoring – for the world to see. Eager to eradicate the ominous specter of tank mashings in Tiananmen Square, and the reports of repressive censorship and human rights violations, China has a massive public relations opportunity to present herself as “just like the rest of us.” We all want to reassure ourselves that the world’s biggest economic force, and most formidable trading partner, is just as addicted to Big Macs and Chevys as the rest of us. Don’t we in the Western world secretly crave cultural homogeneity? Of course, Canada’s CBC covers the entire event, not just in bits and pieces like NBC. I particularly enjoyed hearing the Chinese national anthem … I think it’s entitled “March of the Volunteers”. Perhaps they should revise that title to include the adjective “mandatory”. Does anyone else wonder how a repressive communist country as strong as China, with as much economic influence as China has on the rest of the world, deals with the influences of the ever-expanding “free world”? Do westerners now become more repressive (some would argue we are already), or does China bend? At some point, a tsunami of information and free world permissiveness will wash over that country, and then perhaps the levee will break. I only hope it doesn’t result in a world war. Perhaps there will be no more world wars. Future conflicts may focus on economic hegemonies. When GM is swallowed up by some Chinese conglomerate, then it may be time to brush up on your Mandarin. Moo Shu Big Macs anyone?

Finally, I heard that there’s a new handbook being handed out to Catholic priests which outlines appropriate and inappropriate physical contact with children. I wonder if there is a handbook instructing the violators on how to undo the emotional devastation they cause when they abuse their young victims. Pats on the rump, bear hugs and kisses are among the examples of inappropriate behavior. Oh yes, sodomy is in there somewhere as well. Is it possible that a grown man does not understand that sodomizing a child is inappropriate behavior? I don’t think the handbook is going to stop the sodomizers … perhaps fear of castration might be a more effective deterrent.

Last note, a propos to nothing, if I have an aversion to snakes, does this mean I have a reptile dysfunction?

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 8/11/08

This has been a summer of significant change, and in keeping with that theme, the other day I shaved off the beard I have worn for the past ten or more years. I grew it one summer out in Banff, and I’ve had it ever since. People do all sorts of things to change their appearance; they change their hair style, or wear different clothing, fix their crooked teeth, buy a Ferrari. Change of appearance can be healthy, if only to mix things up a bit. Nothing is irreversible, right? Well, maybe a botched nose job. I never used to consider myself particularly vain, but of late I have been looking at myself a lot in the mirror, literally and figuratively. It’s strange how I could have looked at my face for all these years, and somehow have ignored my aging. When I grew the beard, it came in salt and pepper grey; I suppose that should have been a red flag. I have found that, from about thirty-five on, denial has been my constant companion. I bask in the embellished memories of my ill-spent youth, I have the emotional maturity of a sixteen year-old, and somehow, I have managed to ignore the old man staring back at me in the mirror for the past ten or more years. One day, about a week ago, that old man who looked back at me in the mirror looked like “Festus” from Gunsmoke, and that was a sobering, existential moment. I came to the abrupt realization that I am about twenty years older than I feel, and I no longer wanted to look any older than I have to. Shauna and her parents preferred me with a beard, but my parents have always hated it. Because I was going down to visit them a few weeks ago, I figured I’d use that as an excuse to finally present myself clean-shaven.

I suppose that one of the reasons I kept the beard for so long is that I am lazy. It is much easier to trim a beard twice a week than it is to shave daily. As well, having endured years of severe adolescent acne, I now have what my skin doctor euphemistically referred to as the “rugged look.” The rugged look makes shaving more of a challenge. I didn’t really think things through before I made this abrupt decision, and I suddenly realized that, after ten years, I no longer owned an electric shaver. Manual shaving on a regular basis is out of the question, because I do not enjoy walking around with bloody pieces of Kleenex stuck to my face. In ten years, I’ve probably gone through three electric beard trimmers, but haven’t owned a new electric shaver in perhaps twenty years. I did some reconnaissance at Shoppers Humongous Drug Store to investigate my electric shaver options, and experienced sticker shock. Any of their acceptable options were over one hundred-fifty bucks. Thank goodness for Wal-Mart, where I was able to procure a perfectly adequate floating head rechargeable shaver for just under sixty bucks.

Final notes on this momentous event. For some reason, which probably has something to do with narcissism, I presumed other people who know me would notice the change, but the reaction of peripheral friends and acquaintances was resoundingly apathetic. I assumed that this radical change in my appearance would elicit responses ranging from shock to awe, but no. Some people remarked that I had cut my hair. One person thought I had shaved off my mustache. Someone else noticed that I had gone bald. About fifteen years ago I did in fact go bald. Anyhow, I shaved my beard, the earth is still revolving on its axis, and the universe appears to be in tact. I wonder if anyone would notice if I pierced my nose with a fish hook and dyed what’s left of my hair green and yellow. Clearly a “Mohawk” is not an option.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 8/4/08

I don’t know if it was the high humidity and strange weather, or if there was something in the air, but last week was high stress and full of negative energy. Even the dog was nuts. It seems as if, now that we are coming down to the fit and finish stage of the house, very little is going as planned. Last Thursday, amidst frantic phone calls to rectify an incorrect materials order, and the discovery that all our pine flooring was randomly oversized, throwing off a carefully designed plank pattern, and a myriad of other disheartening surprises, scheduling conflicts, unexpected delays, etc., we got a call from our landlord in Burk’s Falls to let us know that August was our last month in this rented bungalow, because he’s decided to put it up for sale. We counted on being up here until our house was completed, and had been moving things up to this rental house over the summer. I sure don’t want to be carting everything back to the apartment in Toronto, only to have to bring it up again. After some begging and pleading, I may have convinced the landlord to allow us stay a little longer, by agreeing to let him show the house as he needs to. Still, if he cannot sell the house and secures a longer term tenant, we’re history with thirty days notice. To add to the stress, Shauna has some mysterious infection which was not eradicated by a first course of anti-biotic medicine, and she has been down for the count for about two weeks. We spoke to the doctor the other day, and may need to go back for another prescription. At present, we are a bit conflobbulated.

Always, after a week such as the one we just had, it is a good idea to pause, take a deep breath, remove ourselves from the immediacy of whatever minor problems we are addressing, and to remind ourselves how truly blessed we are and have been. None of these petty aggravations amount to a hill of beans; no one important to us is in the hospital, we have not lost our life savings in a flood, or a hurricane, or a tornado, we are not mourning the loss of the majority of our family in some senseless terrorist act, and we have both been raised in a loving and supportive family environment. In other words, we’re in the top 1 percentile of the luckiest people in the world.

I frequently listen to CBC radio talk shows when I’m in the basement workshop refinishing windows, dying hemp rope for wall trim, or one of the other creative projects I am doing in my spare time. The other day, there was a show dealing with the pursuit of and the myths surrounding happiness. Generally speaking, it seems clear that happiness has less to do with one’s circumstances than with one’s capability to adjust one’s attitude. An African man, who had endured unspeakable atrocities in his homeland and was now living in Montreal, had an amazingly upbeat perspective on his life. Alternatively, celebrities and people with “everything to live for” frequently self-destruct. The myth that fame and fortune are the benchmarks of happiness has historically proven to be untrue, but what does make us happy? Prozac? LSD? Dr. Phil? With all the figurative snake oil advertised out there, clearly there a lot of unhappy people in the world. In that CBC radio show I mentioned, it was proposed that North Americans are more materialistic than any other group. Will a Corvette make me happy … or a big log home on a lake? I know they won't, and I also know what will. Try and live my life un-intrusively. Don’t hurt anyone, and especially anyone I love. Be honest, with myself and with those around me. Periodically indulge in a random act of kindness to a stranger. Stay connected with the people and the world around me (something I have been woefully under-achieving of late). Learn to laugh at myself and life’s folly. Don’t take myself too seriously. Be charitable: to give love and wealth is more gratifying than to receive them. These are the bits of advice on happiness I have gleaned over my 52 years. Learning to practice them is another story. You can call it happiness, or contentment, or balance, or whatever label you choose. The fact remains; no one else can make it happen. I only hope I can learn to “walk the walk” before I leave this earth. I don't want to come back in the next life as fish bait. Karma's a bitch. At this very moment, I feel contentment, and it’s better than any intoxicant I’ve ever ingested. I wrote a song a while ago about this moment, and I called “Scrapbook”. The last verse and chorus are as follows:

“We’re at the table sipping coffee, silence fills the room/ Out on the lake we hear the calling of a distant loon/ And when our life turns difficult, as it will someday soon/ I’ll open up my scrapbook to this sunny afternoon … cho: Because I just want this moment to survive all our life/Something to hold on to every day of our life/ Carry us through all the trying times/ Capture the contentment, in the scrapbook of my mind..”

May we all find peace of mind and happiness in this life. I'm working on it!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 7/28/08

Last Friday, I was down in Toronto to pick up the door hardware for the new house, and I decided to stay in town for the weekend. I figured that, while I was down in Toronto anyhow, I could visit Shauna’s parents and also drive down to Buffalo to see mine. As well, our good friend Bobby Cameron was in from Edmonton to perform in Toronto’s Beaches Jazz Festival, and I couldn’t pass up a chance to see him play again. I’d never been to the Beaches Jazz Festival before, and it was a blast. Basically, this is a huge series of street concerts, going on up and down Queen Street East, starting at Woodbine Ave.. Participating bands played everything from jazz and big band, to rock and R&B. Bobby was at the far end of the venue and, as I slowly made my way down the packed street to see his performance, I had the opportunity to check out many of the other bands. Some were average “weekend warrior” bar bands, but some of the bands were absolutely incredible. One Latin group really impressed me. When I finally made my way to Bobby’s spot, I was not disappointed. He had attracted a respectable audience, and I love seeing the newly converted as they catch Bobby’s act for the first time. He’s such an unusual and talented guitar player – very percussive – that he demands your attention. Anyhow, that was a lot of fun.

Further to last week’s discussion about songwriting, I decided to look up some song lyrics on the internet. There are some songs which I’ve been humming for thirty or forty years now, and I’ve never known the actual lyrics. I didn’t used to care, but since I began writing songs, around 1981, I’ve paid more attention to lyrics. Sometimes, to help me with my songwriting, I’ll learn a song I like, and this helps me with phrasing, alliteration, and creative expression in general. I used to play a lot of open mics, and in the early years I played some ridiculous cover tunes. One of them -- and I actually downloaded this song the other day -- was “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini”. If you can perform a song like that in public, that is pretty much the acid test for one’s ability to jump off the figurative entertainment cliff. If you want to be an entertainer (which I’ve found I don’t) you must learn to embrace your humility. Anyhow, there are song lyrics I’ve never really understood, and so I looked them up. For instance there is a pop song by the new wave group The Vapors, called “Turning Japanese” and there is one line in that song I’ve never understood: “… Everyone avoids me like a (blank) lone ranger” .. I always thought the blank word was “cyclone”, which made no sense. In fact the adjective is “psyched” … which doesn’t make much more sense. In truth, there are lots of lyrics which don’t make sense to me … “If there’s a bustle in your hedge grove, don’t be alarmed now/ It’s just a spring clean for the May Queen …” What in heaven's name does that line from Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” mean? And don’t get me started on the Beatles. I like a lot of what the Beatles have written, but what the heck does “She came in through the bathroom window, protected by a silver spoon” mean? That line really bustles my hedge grove, if you know what I mean. Lyrics often take a back seat to the melody, and I used to be only interested in a song’s melodic hook. Now, the actual lyrics are more important to me.

When Bobby’s set was over on Friday night, I joined him for a few beers with some of his band mates, as well as a few other friends in the music industry. After a few beers I asked everyone to name their all time favorite song. They could not do it. I couldn’t do it either, because I have at least fifty favorite songs. There have been so many great songs written over time. “White Room”, “Mr. Bojangles”, “Tempted”, “I Will Follow”, “The Last Time I Saw Richard”, “Cold,Cold,Cold”, “13 Questions”, “Send in the Clowns”, “Tits and Ass”, “Danny’s Song”, “Everyday”, “Worn Out and Confused” ... these are a few of my widely diverse favorites. The funny thing is, most of the songs I like the best were never big hits. I wonder if my song “Swamp Queen” will ever get the recognition it deserves. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 7/21/08

Of late, we have been starting out our day with a little music to accompany our breakfast coffee. When we lived in Toronto, mornings were always filled with the CNN disaster-du-jour, or the traffic report on City TV. Somehow, those sources of information are not quite as satisfying, and whereas they may seem germane to life in the big city, music is a generally more acceptable and uplifting alternative, especially in the bucolic calm of Mayberry-like Burk’s Falls. Rush hour in this town consists of a brief flurry of traffic just before the liquor store closes.

This morning, our musical selection was a female vocalist from Toronto by the name of Liberty Silver. Many years ago, Shauna and I heard her sing live at a small basement club in Yorkville, and we both fell in love with her pitch-perfect voice. Fame is ever-elusive and, to my knowledge, Liberty never hit the big time. Perhaps she never sought fame, but I am constantly amazed by the fact that, in the music industry, the spotlight so frequently shines on the wrong performers. How some vodka-hawking clown like Puff Doggie Daddy, or whatever his name is, can occupy a seat in the “made guy” category of the music mafia is beyond me, but there you have it. Fame and talent often travel in different universes, possibly commingling from time to time in the cosmic stew of cyberspace. I digress … one of the songs Liberty Silver covers is an old blues tune you’ve probably heard entitled “Ain’t Nobody’s Business”. Because I am a student of the craft of songwriting, I am interested to know who wrote or composed a popular song. I always assumed that “Ain’t Nobody’s Business” was penned by one of the more famous songwriters … Cole Porter or Ira Gershwin. I punched up the title on Google and found out that in fact the song was written by Porter Grainger and Everett Robbins. I never heard of either of those men, but Grainger used to be singer Bessie Smith’s accompianist. I’m guessing that, back in the 1920’s when the song was written, those two gentlemen made about as much money on that song as Puff Doggie spends on shoelaces in a week, and yet the song endures. It will likely continue to do so long after Doggie Daddy and his “art” have been awarded the anonymity they deserve. Further to the subject of songwriters …

In my blog-ography I give a “shout out” to Mars Bonfire for writing the hugely popular rock anthem “Born to be Wild”. I had for most of my rock-adoring life assumed that Steppenwolf lead man John Kay (born Joachim Fritz Krauledat) had written that hit, and it wasn’t until I saw the sheet music for the song that I discovered that Mars Bonfire was in fact the writer. Learning machine that I am, I then visited the self-proclaimed official Steppenwolf website to find out more. As it turns out, Mars Bonfire was a pen name for Dennis Edmonton, a former member of the band Sparrow, the original band from which Steppenwolf evolved. Are you losing interest yet? Co-incidentally, Dennis’ brother, Jerry Edmonton, was a co-founder of Steppenwolf. What I found most interesting about the Edmontons is that they were raised not too far from Toronto. John Kay was born in Germany, but had lived in Toronto for much of his early life. I lived in the city where the founder of Steppenwolf spent his formative years, and NEAR the home of the guy who penned one of the best rock anthems ever written! I stand on hallowed ground … Awesome dude …I am not worthy. Now you know more than you ever cared to about the band Steppenwolf, but my point - and I do have one - is that one song can launch a career. Singers and/or bands make songs famous, but someone had to WRITE the song in the first place. I don’t believe that most songwriters get the credit they deserve. Does anybody even know who John Prine was? Among other sings, he wrote “Angel from Montgomery”, one of my favorites. Did you know Leon Russell (pictured above) wrote the ever-popular “Masquerade”? Ever hear of Harry Warren? I wonder what the estate of Harry Warren earns in song royalties, as compared to say that chimp-loving hermaphrodite Michael Jackson … I’ll take a wild guess and say “not as much.”

Mars Bonfire … what a great pen name. Maybe I need a pen name … Felix Supernova … Alonzo Brushfire … Cormac Tsunami? Got any suggestions?


Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 7/14/08

At present, our little building project is being held hostage by a delinquent plumber who, for almost three weeks, has been promising to finish some of his plumbing work so that bathroom floors can be laid. Many of the contractors up here in cottage country are extremely busy in the summer season, and I can understand that our plumber might have taken on more work than he can handle. What bothers me most, other than the fact that this man is costing us time and money, is that on at least five occasions, he has broken a promise to perform his duties.

This has turned out to be a very strange summer in many respects. Up here in Burk’s Falls it has been a wet one, which has caused some problems on our job site. There is a mountain of clay left over from the basement excavation last May, and it needed to be off-loaded last week in order to make way for the excavation of the septic system. The builder bought a small building lot nearby which required fill. His reasoning was that, given the skyrocketing cost of diesel fuel, it made sense to buy a piece of land close to the job site which needed to be filled anyhow. He can improve the land and then sell it as a suitable building lot. Win win, right? The problem was that, when he started filling the lot with the clay from our site, the clay was so wet from all the rain that the bulldozer had difficulty spreading it. I watched some of that work and it was a wonder the dozer didn’t sink. I never really thought about it before, but soft ground is definitely a consideration when operating heavy machinery. It’s always something.

Not-So-Big Bertha hit Bermuda, reminding us that it is once again hurricane season in the Atlantic. I wonder if there will be another whopper like the storm that walloped New Orleans. One of the points made in that Lomborg book “Cool it” was that exponential population growth is making weather-related destruction more prevalent. Municipalities and especially developers don’t always pay close enough attention to the potentials for flooding and hurricane damage when deciding where and how development can occur. In their infinite wisdom, the town fathers of Burk’s Falls O.K.’d a bridge replacement over the Magnetawan River, a river, which opens into our lake. The trouble is, they built the bridge a bit lower instead of higher than the old one. With the heavy Spring runoff from all the snow last winter, the high water made it impossible for many boaters to pass under the new bridge and to access our lake. Oops. I went to the Doe Lake Association meeting a week or so ago, and the residents are, quite understandably upset by the oversight. Unfortunately, I doubt that their unanimous vote to demand that the bridge be raised two feet is going to have much influence on the Town Board.

The phone just rang. The plumber has decided to grace us with his presence, and it seems there is a problem with the stainless steel tubs. Three weeks ago would have been a better time to find this out, but so it goes.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED