The Oppenheimer Report 11/21/11

Every so often, a hot button topic comes up that prompts me to resurrect one of my many pet peeves. Last week, there was a piece on the news about a Canadian woman suffering from advanced ALS who is asking the courts to grant her an assisted suicide. According to one poll, 46% of Canadians think assisted suicide should be legalized and another 30% feel that it should be allowed under certain circumstances. Like all right to life issues, this is a contentious debate, and a recent study in Canada brought the issue to the forefront by suggesting that the majority of Canadian families are woefully unprepared to make end-of-life decisions. Having just finished this complicated journey, I implore my readers to be pro-active about it. Talk to your loved ones, old and young, and figure out a way to confront these difficult decisions about end-of-life care. At least have the conversation, because like it or not, it will come back to haunt you if you don’t. I feel the rights of the individuals and their families take precedence in cases of terminal illness. For the most part, I’m pro choice, though I’m not sure I'm completely on board with euthanasia. Euthanasia is only one of the options for end-stage care, and certainly not the only alternative. I get the argument that there is a huge potential for abuse with euthanasia, especially when elders are involved, but I think in a case like an ALS victim, this really should be up to the patient and his or her family. Medical ethicists and religious experts can debate this issue until the end of time, but when people suffer horrible, painful, extended terminal illnesses, I think they should be allowed a morsel of dignity. If I am of sound mind, I want the right, if possible, to control how I die. Morphine baby, and lots of it.

When I first heard about Jerry Sandusky and last week’s Penn State football scandal, I thought Sandusky was being accused of fooling around with college players on the Penn State team. I thought to myself, that was inappropriate and wrong, but the victims were adults, and capable of making their own decisions. When I found out that Sandusky was caught sodomizing a 10 year old boy and I heard him in an interview saying he was just “horsing around” I was genuinely appalled. Some people think Catherine the Great was “horsing around.” So far, 20 victims have come forward to accuse Sandusky, and maybe this is the tip of the iceberg. Now some coach in Syracuse is under investigation on unrelated sex crimes. Pedophilia is pretty close to the worst crime I can think of, and if Coach Paterno knew that his assistant coach was doing these horrible things and did nothing, well, I think that is wrong. He in fact allowed a pedophile to continue to offend. Two thousand Penn State students rioted in the streets when Paterno was fired, angry that their icon was let go in disgrace. People, get your priorities straight! Paterno had a stellar 46 year career as coach of the Penn State Nittany Lions, but he looked away and children were hurt. Here’s something else that just sounds wrong: I read that the 10 top execs at Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac earned $12.8 Million in bonuses last year. Pay is down 40% since the 2008 crash, but WTF, didn’t we the taxpayers bail these bozos out to the tune of $170 Billion?! And I understand that those “Super Committee” clowns failed to come up with ANY of the necessary $1.2 Trillion in cuts. Hard to gripe about European leaders when we’re just as bad or worse. I say we form a committee to oversee the committee. Ugh. On the other end of the decency spectrum, did any of you see the story about Congresswoman Gabrielle Gifford’s recovery over the past eight months? She’s the Arizona Congresswoman who was shot in the head by a deranged gunman. Now, less than a year later, she’s walking and talking again, and her astronaut husband videotaped her courageous journey back. He has written a book about it as well. I love hearing these stories about strong individuals fighting adversity. I’m not sure I agree with Mrs. Gifford’s politics, but wow, what a strong and inspiring woman.

Finally, there was a story on the news the other day about animal rights activists who feel we should not eat turkey on Thanksgiving. Turkeys are apparently more intelligent than people understand, and some feel they should not be slaughtered for our food. Does this mean I have to stop eating dolphin as well? This (American) Thanksgiving will be the beginning of the rest of my life. I am thankful for what I have had, and I embrace the ever-changing maelstrom which is time and space. I guess it’s time to dig out Mom’s killer sweet potato recipe and quit my whining. I am thankful for so many things, including that I have this outlet for my thoughts and feelings, and that some of you indulge me and share those thoughts and feelings with me. Thank you to my twelve loyal readers, and to my Yankee friends, have a good bird. To my Canadian cronies: gentlemen, start your snowblowers!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/14/11

Noteworthy date: 11/11/11. A shout out to all the veterens who have fought for our country. Thank you for my freedom.

Down in Buffalo last week for a meeting with the estate lawyer and some other people, I spent the week sorting through more papers and personal effects, making the difficult decisions about what to keep and what to toss. So many photographs! And everywhere there are notes, postcards, or letters in Mom’s or Dad’s handwriting. Dad wrote so many things down. He had one little notebook I found in his desk describing various fox hunts in which he participated. Why did he do that for heaven’s sake? These days, we’d call those accounts “tweets” excepting that I’m not sure for whom those unspectacular notes were intended. I suspect that the ever popular Kim Kardashian has a much bigger following. “I like just bought the most bitchin’ shoes!”

Somehow, I had compartmentalized the loss of my parents. Of course I grieved when they passed away, but a little voice in the back of my head said “Stay focused, there’s a lot to get done now.” Gradually, what was our home for over fifty years is now being struck down like a stage set. My childhood home is now a real estate listing, and that is just now starting to soak in. With Thanksgiving fast approaching, and given that this was my favorite holiday of the year, the one I was lucky enough to spend every one of the last 53 years celebrating at 140 Chapin Pkwy, Thanksgiving 2011 is going to be weird. Cleaning out the freezer I found some turkey stuffing from last year’s celebration, and I thought I’d take it up to Katrine to have on Thanksgiving this year, but like so many things I left behind, it’s still in that freezer.

Here’s an interesting story. While I was down last week, our listing agent called me up to warn me that she’d be walking some people from the Buffalo News through the house. They are going to be featuring the house in an upcoming weekend real estate publication called Home Finder and they wanted to walk through to take some pictures. I have an aversion to history that dates back to several insufferably boring history teachers I had in high school, and I have never really learned much about our house. Strange, considering I’d lived there for 25 years of my life. It turns out that the architect, Edward Austin Kent, who designed many of the prominent buildings in Buffalo, was also noteworthy for being the one and only Buffalonian to perish on the Titanic in 1912. Our house was built in 1911, and it was likely one of Kent’s last commissions. The story goes that when Kent, who by all accounts acted heroically in the last hours of his life, was helping an elderly lady named Mrs. Helen Candee onto one of the few lifeboats available, she handed him an ivory miniature of her mother to hold onto in his final hours. Mrs. Candee survived, and later, when Kent’s body was recovered, the ivory miniature was found in his pocket, and subsequently returned to her. History means much more to me when it becomes the story of exceptional individuals.

Mini rant. With the latest debt crises in Europe, it is clear to most people with even a tenuous grasp on reality that the party is over. Austerity measures are painful and widespread. Fortunes have and will continue to be lost. Still, there are riots in the streets and everyone seems to think that this is someone else’s problem. Chris Collins, the Republican now ex- Erie County Executive was given his walking papers last Tuesday night when he was defeated by pro-union Democrat, Country Comptroller Mark Poloncarnz. Had I not been down in Buffalo on election day, I probably wouldn’t have blinked an eye, but this particular election was to me symbolic of what is broken in American (and world) politics. I defy our proposed leaders to actually do the unpopular thing and lead. So far I have not seen a presidential candidate who comes close to fitting the bill. Clearly, we’re all going to pay more taxes and services will be cut; I simply want someone to show some responsibility and state clearly how we can navigate through this mess. I’ll wager that most of the uncertainty in financial markets is directly related to the fear that leaders don’t know how or are too afraid to make the tough decisions. Collins treated Erie County like a business, and he made a lot of unpopular decisions. He was by many accounts, arrogant and not very likable. As best I can tell, Collins lost because he cut spending in Erie County and didn’t sugar coat the pain. He did what he said he was going to do, and that is apparently political suicide. He lost the beauty contest. I will be interested to see if Mr. Poloncarnz improves the welfare of the residents of Erie County by keeping his campaign promises.

This year, my Thanksgiving will be a tribute to the memory of my parents. Mom and Dad, thank you for making my life so wonderful. No more whining (for now). Nothing lasts forever: it’s time to form new traditions. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/7/11

Two stories about the bowels of humanity. First story: In the “New Words” department: Kar-bash-ian. It’s the latest blood sport in Hollywood! Kim Kardashian divorced her husband Kris Humphries after around 70 days and everyone (read me) is righteously indignant. Not as short-lived as the Rodman/Electra nuptials, and hey, at least she gave it a chance. Another new word: Kar-cash-ian.  Kim earnestly denies any ulterior motive in wedding earnings, rumored to be in the vicinity of $17 Million, and insists she married for love. Selling the television rights to your wedding is a bit of a red flag, but who am I to judge? Second story: A divorced couple in Western New York is presently fighting over the estate of their deceased teenage daughter. The estranged father, who stiffed on child support while girl was still alive, and who never even chipped in for the funeral expenses, feels he is entitled to a piece of the action. Now that’s class.

Kent Couch from Oregon is planning on an aerial flight to Iraq in a lawn chair attached to helium-filled party balloons. So far his longest flight was from Oregon to Idaho, about 200 miles. This Iraqi trip, in which he’ll pair up with an Iraqi daredevil, is about 400 miles, and will require higher altitudes as well as oxygen masks. Let’s ignore the fact that any moron with a rifle could probably clip his wings … Iraq? If my geography is correct, isn’t that right next to Iran? Didn’t we just rescue (read pay money to Iran to release) some Americans who bumbled across the Iraq/Iran border? I found it interesting that the story indicated that Couch’s wife was all for the stunt. Trouble in paradise? Is there a life insurance policy? May Allah go with you.

In American politics, Herman Cain, The Great Black Hope, is starting to get the predictable bad press as his political enemies start to perceive him as a credible threat for the Republican nod. Allegations of sexual harassment are starting to surface (3 so far), and may scuttle him before he can gain real momentum. Anybody remember Gary Hart? I remember he had a yacht called "Monkey Business." It might be a witch hunt, but with the right spin doctors, it could be fatal to Cain’s bid. Some pundit suggested that the bad news was leaked by Democrats, because Democrats hate black conservatives. There was much discussion about the similarities to the Anita Hill/Clarence Thomas scandal back when Thomas was being vetted for Supreme Court Justice. I wrote a very lame rap parody about that scandal called It’s Not the Meat It’s the Motion Denied which, thankfully, no one has ever heard. I’m confused about what kind of a leader we need to guide us out of this mess we‘re in. Recent history does not suggest that Washington outsiders get the job done. Obama has certainly hit a wall, and we all remember what a crappy president Jimmy Carter made. The Perots, and the Trumps, and the Cains all sound like good leaders when they’re campaigning, but none of them can handle the Washington cluster f-ck when the going gets tough. I think we need someone dirty (again). Remember that infamous campaign slogan from the 70s? “Don’t change Dicks in the middle of a screw, vote for Nixon in ‘72.”

More problems at that Fukishima nuclear power plant in Japan, where there is new evidence that nuclear fission is still taking place in the crippled plant. I always figured it would be human error or a terrorist attack that precipitated a major nuclear power plant disaster, but once again, Mother Nature beat us to the punch. The Greek debt crisis continues to threaten other European economies, as well as North American markets, and this week’s government shenanigans didn’t help matters any. Andy Rooney, curmudgeon/writer who was one of the last living pioneers of television, died last week at 92. Pretty good timing on his part; didn’t he just quit 60 Minutes a few weeks ago? Further to my discussion about “ethical oil” in last week’s report, I just read that there are there 24 billion untapped barrels of oil under N. Dakota and Montana. Holy Beverly Hillbillies Batman! Who needs Libya; that’s enough oil to keep Los Angeles going for months. With the big oil rush bonanza, I can just see those marketing guys spinning their slogans: Come to North Dakota, it’s not just a miserable, frozen tundra populated by simpletons wearing trooper hats anymore (I get all my cultural information from the Coen brothers). Wow, I really could have had a V-8.

The November winds are blowing hard as I write this report. Glad the dock is up and the boat is safe on dry land. Based on the La Nina surprises that have already occurred elsewhere in North America, I’m bracing for the deep freeze sometime soon. Regards from the Great White North!



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 10/31/11

Happy Halloween gentle readers! Did you attend a costume party over the last weekend? As some of you may have learned from past reports, I used to take Halloween very seriously. One of my favorite costume creations was my Sinead O’Hellraiser (featured above), an interactive costume destined to encourage embellishments from my onlookers. It started out as a bald mask onto which I glued toothpicks, followed by some serious make-up. I believe there was a picture of the Pope around my neck, torn in half. By the end of the night, after a bit of imbibing, my head became a receptacle for other people’s hors douvres. I distinctly remember walking into my favorite bar in Allentown with chunks of meat, cheese, and broccoli mounted on my head. So many memorable Halloween parties! One year, I attended a roving party; ever been to one of those? Someone rented a school bus and a driver, and twenty or thirty of us drove around from bar to bar in costume. The trick with parties like that is to wear something that is booze-friendly. You don’t want something too cumbersome, or involving a mask which gets in the way of beer consumption. Try stepping up onto a school bus dressed as a giant cucumber. That year I was a Sabre-ette, one of the Buffalo Sabres’ short-lived cheerleaders. Dressed in blue spandex tights, a cheap wig, and of course my vintage Sabres tee shirt covering over-sized balloon breasts, I looked like a cross between a decomposing Mae West and extra from the movie Beetlejuice. Halloween is in my opinion the one day of the year wherein one is encouraged to discard one’s dignity … something I seem to do with great facility.

Holy lake effect, is it winter already?! Thursday night, weather junkie that I am, I checked the Weather Channel radar for our area. I have it page-marked in my “Favorites” file, and there it was, a big pink and baby blue blob creeping up from Bracebridge. Friday, when I took Jasper out for her morning elimination, the outside temperature was 28F and there was frost on the ground. Jasper looked up at me as we walked out the door as if to say “Can‘t I just go on the rug?!” Time to plug in the heat line for our water supply (we pull our water from the lake) and bring up the retractable dock. So far we haven’t been affected by the huge snowstorm that just made it’s way up the east coast, dumping 25 cm of sloppy wet snow on parts of Massachusetts and Vermont. I read the other day that Dublin Ireland had one month’s worth of rain in a 24 hour period. This is all Al Gore’s fault.

St Louis and Texas are in the World Series, making it even less likely than it otherwise would be that I will watch my annual five minutes of baseball. There was a big earthquake (7.2 on the Richter Scale) in Turkey near Iranian border. Herman Cain has not yet been voted off the island, Obama released his latest jobs bill to “fix” the stagnant U.S. economy, and the really good news is that experts predict America will avoid a “double dip” recession. Does this mean the bleeding has stopped? I’ll believe that when the banks start lending money again. I watched Don “The Humper” Trump interviewed the other night, and his opinion is that this is a Catch-22 situation. Government regulators are hamstringing the banks who in turn won’t make loans that involve even marginal risk. NOW they get choosey! So whose fault is it that we’re mired in this economic paralysis, the banks or the government? Last week the Dow skyrocketed about 340 points on the news that Europe has finally come to an agreement to solve their looming debt crisis (see Jonathon Swift’s A Modest Proposal). Have you followed any of the Michael Jackson/ Conrad Murray trial? Last week it was up to Dr. Murray’s defense team to plant reasonable doubt, and their contention is that Jackson, an established drug abuser, gave himself the lethal dose of Propofol. Doesn’t seem plausible, but after the O.J. trial, I gave up making predictions. These days, justice seems to be up for grabs. Here’s a zany new expression I’d never heard used before: drunkerexia. At a university in Calgary, Alberta some female students are starving themselves all day so they can drink booze all night and not gain weight. Breakfast of champions. And I thought I was stupid in college. O.K., perhaps I was a little stupid in college.

You should have seen me in that Sabrette costume. I was hot.





Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 10/24/11

However you spell his name, Momo Ghadhafi, is now officially Libya’s ex-despot. Much was made of the decision to air video on the news of his last moments alive, but this didn’t bother me. In a world where any twelve year old can play absurdly violent video games, I think that horse is already out of the barn. Was he killed in the midst of a firefight, or did somebody make the executive decision to put a bullet in his head? Does it matter? I suppose it does if Libya plans to call itself a free country, governed by Islamic law, but Momo lived by the sword, and it is not surprising that he died by the sword. After what he did to his own people, not to mention the terrorism he sponsored throughout the world, I’m surprised they made it quick. Meanwhile Tunisia, the country that jump started the “Arab Spring” movement, just held a free election. Perhaps that young Tunisian martyr who set himself on fire and started this tidal wave of change did not die in vain. Can you even imagine self-immolation? I hear it’s all the rage in Tibet these days.

Now that we’re running out of brutal dictators to oust (Assad, I hear you’re next on the list) it’s time once again to focus on problem celebrities. Lindsay Blowhole is cruising for another stay in the “big house” having failed to perform her required community service as punishment for her bad behavior. I think it was an appropriate sentence for Lohan that her community service involved working at a morgue; clearly our troubled little starlet is headed in that direction . Lindsay Lohan or Charlie Sheen, who do you think will crash and burn first? Celebrity’s a bitch. By the way, the ratings are waaaay down for Two and a Half Men, since Sheen left the show. I caught a new episode the other day, thinking that the excellent supporting cast would take up the slack, but Ashton Kucher, Charlie’s replacement, simply doesn’t cut the coke. The other night I had the pleasure of watching a celebrity roast of Sheen, hosted by Family Guy creator Seth MacFarlane. Wow! In my life I have never seen a roast that brutal.

“Ethical oil” - I love that phrase. Just because it’s oil we’re not buying from our OPEC friends doesn’t mean it’s ethical. There is much controversy and growing concern that the Alberta oil sands are generating unacceptable environmental hazards, but does not all energy production “break a few eggs?” Who knew wind energy was going to be a problem? I just read an article about how close proximity to wind turbines can lower property values. I thought it was just the bird issue, but some residents who live close to wind farms claim they are noisy and disruptive and that they cause health problems. As well, some banks refuse to offer lines of credit secured by a house in close proximity to a wind farm. Solar energy is expensive and problematic, especially in areas where sunshine is in short supply (like Buffalo). Geothermal energy sounds great but has numerous setbacks. We looked into it for our house, but it was not the right solution in our case. I watched an interesting segment on the news about plans to put a giant turbine in the Bay of Fundy to harness the incredible energy generated by its tides. Apparently they’ve had trouble developing a turbine strong enough to withstand the force of that legendary tide, but it makes sense that this should work. Of course, it will probably cause fish genocide. It’s always something. I think cow farts have unrealized potential. We harness all that methane and it’s a win-win scenario … less greenhouse gas and more energy to boot. It’s time to invent methane-capturing cow diapers, or perhaps we simply use hoses. Hey, maybe as part of her rehabilitation, Lindsay Lohan could be on charge of the cow fart extraction. Let the punishment fit the crime.

And Mr. Assad, if you’re reading my blog, which is very likely given my mass appeal and world wide distribution, I hope you wake up and listen to your people. It’s a brave new world, and we’re watching.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 10/17/11

Photo by Shauna Leigh Taylor-Oppenheimer

The Canadian Thanksgiving has passed and the weekend before last people were pulling in docks and shuttering up their cottages for the winter. We are once again all alone up here on a deserted lake. Time to find indoor distractions. Shauna bought me a Kindle electronic book for my birthday and last week I read my first book on it (Sarah’s Key). I like the portability, and I grudgingly admit I appreciate something representing new technology. I was always tough on books, and this device is easy to carry around. Save the trees, for last.

A week ago last Tuesday it was election day in Ontario, and Norman Bates (Dalton McGinty) was once again elected Premier of Ontario. Shauna voted at the Katrine Community Centre. Keep in mind, Katrine has a population of about 80 people … no recounts or election fraud up here in the Great White North.

I watched a story on the evening news the other night indicating that the ancient “sport” of cricket fighting in China is dwindling in popularity. It would never occur to me in a thousand years to entertain myself, much less gamble, on a couple of crickets fighting, but apparently that is a legitimate and ancient pass time in China. I wonder if those crickets juice. Some of them looked awfully pumped up.

With stock values of Research in Motion down 65% from their all time high, the once ubiquitous Blackberry has fallen on hard times. Last week, to add insult to injury, the Blackberry communications system went down for days, and Blackberry users were unable to communicate their vital information (How R U ??? … LOL!). Heaven forbid they should pick up a land line or send an email through their computer. Always there to pick up the slack, Apple just introduced its latest IPhone (4S?) and people were lined up around the block to purchase them.

Republican hopeful and pizza mogul Herman “9-9-9” Cain ruffled some feathers last week in response to the recent and much-publicized Occupy Wall Street protest. A lot of people got together in NYC and other major metropolitan centers to protest the unbridled greed and injustice they attribute to the machinations of Wall Street. With so many people out of work, it is not surprising that people blame Wall Street for the latest financial mess. Where‘s the bailout for the poor, eat the rich, blah, blah, blah. Cain’s response to this: Quit your whining; blame yourselves and the government you elected for their failed policies, not Wall Street. He’s got the solution: simplify the tax code. Spoken like a true businessman, but wait until the gloves come off and the real campaigning begins. When it gets ugly he’ll likely take his ball and go home, just like Ross Perot did when his feelings were hurt. While I can’t comment on this intelligently (I hardly ever do!), I admire Cain’s spunk. Clearly he is not in this to make friends, and yet he’s doing surprisingly well in early polls. At the moment his biggest competition for the Republican nod is the unspectacular Mitt Romney. I understand the indignation of the protesters, but I think Capital Hill is where they should be protesting. Somebody left the lid off the cookie jar, and it wasn’t Wall Street.

And Jack Kervorkian must be laughing from his grave over the article I found in News of the Weird (http://www.newsoftheweird.com) the other day. It was about some Lithuanian guy who has designed an “elegant” way to kill oneself: death by roller coaster. The ride induces cerebral hypoxia by generating G forces that will shut down the brain while allegedly leaving the rider in a state of euphoria. Please define euphoria for me, because I’m not sure I want to check out, traveling at 220 mph, screaming “NOOOOO!,” my cheeks and eyelids flapping uncontrollably in the wind, as I freefall 1600 feet to my certain death. Not exactly doves and harp music for me, but arguably a step above expiring in a nursing home. One has the option to change one’s mind during the first two minutes of the ride, but something tells me that I might not be in control of my motor functions at that point. Speaking of which, I want to know who hoses out the urine and excrement before the next lucky passenger takes the plunge. Also, does the ride come with calliope music? According to the article, suicide is legal in Washington and Oregon as well as in four European countries. I did not know that.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/10/11

Yikes, I turned 56 on Saturday. To those of you who called or wrote, thank you, even if your Facebook account reminded you to do so. This year my birthday fell on Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, and the day we fast from sundown to sundown. Having lost Mom, and Dad two years ago, I did a lot of reflecting about my charmed life so far, reminding myself that the time is long overdue to give back. I had a wonderful day doing nothing but potting around in the yard and at the end of the day, sitting on my boat, drifting out in the middle of our lake, reading the newspaper while Shauna read her book. I actually forgot how old I am and mistakenly assumed I was approaching 55. They tell me the brain goes as you get older. My how time flies when you’re a self-absorbed putz. And speaking of which …

I had a sober thought the other day - I have those every so often - when I heard about the passing of Apple genius Steve Jobs last week. He was also born in 1955, and now he’s gone. I am reminded of what that guy accomplished in his all too short life, so mortality, and the legacy we leave behind are the topics du jour. I have a tendency to compare myself unfavorably to my contemporaries, and this of course begs the question, what is success? I seem pre-occupied with this subject of late, because, having recently lost both my parents, and as I find myself reluctantly catapulted into “the next stage of my life,” I wonder what it is I will leave behind. Will it be one of my songs, which becomes the multi-generational anthem for the disenfranchised? Will I choke on my electric toothbrush, and thus become famous as the most bizarre and ridiculous example of how a person ever died. I’d like it to be something more noteworthy. Famous Buffalonian, Wilson Greatbatch, left behind the cardiac pacemaker as his legacy, and his invention has saved, and continues to save, millions of lives annually. Superstar Michael Jackson was scandal-plagued, and his death was bordering on tragic, but no one can deny that he was one hugely talented entertainer. Ted Kaczinski will probably be remembered throughout history as the murderous Unibomber, but someone can’t be a success if they simply achieve notoriety, can they? I suppose one could argue that he achieved the goal of being remembered, but I don‘t think Ted was focused on celebrity.

As I grow older, I intoxicate myself with the dream that I will be remembered for some notable, positive achievement, but as time marches on, that aspiration becomes eroded by my mediocrity. As the Tragically Hip so eloquently put it in the wonderful song Ahead by a Century, “with delusions of someday, casting a golden light/ No dress rehearsal, this is our life” I suppose the notion with which I can now comfort myself is that everyone is a success who has friends or who leaves the world a better place than when they arrived. Maybe this is simply a rationale for my relative failure, compared to Steve Jobs, but it works for me. Relatively speaking we’re all just specks on the head of a pin anyhow, right? This morning, as I sat down to write this week’s babblings, I read an email link that someone had sent me. It was Steve Jobs speech to the 2005 graduates of Stamford University, and it was inspiring. One line in the speech stuck with me: “Stay hungry, stay foolish.” I don’t know what kind of a person Jobs really was, but his attitude and his focus were remarkable.

When I saw Neil Young play Massey Hall a few months ago, the first performer was Bert Jansch, who was I believe one of the founding members of a group I used to listen to called Pentagle. When I saw him play, it brought back fond memories of my college years. Jansch died in London last week of lung cancer, and I suppose the performance I saw was one of his very last. He was very good, and well received, given the legend for whom he was opening. I thought about that performance today, as I woke up to finish this week’s report. Music is a gift, and thank you Mr. Jansch for your performance(s). As the autumn leaves paint a Van Gogh painting on the shores across the lake, and as one generation passes the gauntlet to the next, I am for the moment at peace with myself and the world around me. This is a rare feeling, and I pray for the sustainment of this moment.


Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/5/11

Sorry to be late posting this; I was down in Buffalo to sell Mom’s car and take care of some other estate business. Monday night, after a long day, I treated myself and played an open mic at a local Buffalo bar. I haven’t played in a while, and it felt good to perform in public again. The other day I was listening to a compilation CD put out for the 2010 Buffalo Music is Art Festival, and besides the fact that I like most of the cuts, by artist I’ve never heard of, what occurred to me is how many gifted people hail from my home town. When I play open mics in Buffalo, there is often some voice from my concert attending past that reminds me of this talent. Not too long ago I played The Sportsman’s in Buffalo, shortly before Grethen Schultz performed. She’s a Buffalo singer to whom I’ve been listening since the late 80’s. She’s got a good rock voice, and after she did a few Bowie tunes, I requested that she do one of her original tunes, “Cool Me Down.” She seemed taken aback that someone wanted to hear that song. What I did not know is that her partner Dave Morgano, who was playing with her at the time, wrote the tune. Every time I get the notion that I may have written a good song, I am presented with some Buffalo artist that puts me in my place.

One of my favorite musicians, Leo Kottke, covered a tune called “Louise” and I always loved that song. I Googled it the other day and don’t ask me why, but I mistakenly came to the conclusion that Willy DeVille of the Mink DeVilles wrote the tune. The good news about this misinformation is that I learned a little bit about Deville, who had what I thought was an interesting story. In fact “Louise” was written by a Buffalonian songwriter named Paul Siebel. I wouldn’t have known this except that I saw Leo play it in Toronto not too long ago, and he mentioned the guy’s name. He said Seibel hates getting up to perform his songs. Boy, do I know that feeling, and as much as artists tell me it’s a rush to play in front of a receptive audience, I’d be happy to acknowledge that success in the form of a royalty check, or kind words by a music critic. I think the fundamental issue here is that I blow as a performer. But perhaps I’m getting better.

My latest self-indulgence was the purchase of a Zoom H4N 4-track field recorder, which enables me to capture fairly accurate recordings of my and other artist’s performances at these open stages. I’m still learning to use it - it is a remarkable, reasonably priced recording device - and recently I brought it down to my favorite Toronto open mic to record what I heard. Of course, I inadvertently pushed the “pause” button when it came time for my performance, but perhaps that was meant to be, because I absolutely murdered a Neil Young Cover. One guy who played a Pearl Jam cover implored me to give him a copy of his performance. As you all may know, I shun technology like the Unibomber, but in keeping with my newfound philosophy to keep learning, I took the recording home, learned to use my Roxio software in order to compress the digital .WAV file into an MP3 format (less memory … easier to email) and emailed the file to the guy. Impressed? Didn’t think so! Of course, this is digital technology that the average teenager probably considers second nature, but for a 55 year-old man with severely atrophied learning skills, this accomplishment was huge for me. I believe that it is extremely helpful to hear oneself perform; humiliating sometimes, but constructive nonetheless. Many of the talented artists whose paths I have crossed have no recordings of their music, either because they are very poor or they simply don’t care about recognition. You’d be surprised how many creative people care nothing about fame; they’re too busy being prolific and self-destructive. I once recorded I guy I used to follow in Buffalo by the name of Jeff Goldstein, and I thought he was a very gifted songwriter. Unfortunately Jeff had a lot of problems, and I’m not sure he even performs anymore, but we laid down four demo tracks which I still have. I value those recordings as much as if they were made of a famous artist. I’d hoped he would use them to demonstrate to some club owner or music industry suit that he had what it takes. But like the Joplins and Jimis and Jacksons, talent is sometimes a by-product of dysfunction. Maybe there’s hope for me yet!

Believe me, I know I’m full of myself, and I also know that my musical aspirations are of little interest to most of my readers. Nevertheless I have come to learn something about myself. I am an archivist by nature, and one of my passions is giving a voice to the unheard. So far, I’ve recorded about six open mics and already have some decent material. What will I do with it all? Perhaps nothing, but maybe a distilled version will be available to the general public one day. One of my favorite albums is a field recording my cousin made at a music festival in Kerrville, Texas. Those recordings were made around the campfire, and every song was a magical performance by a noted songwriter. You can spend piles of money to attend a big name act at an arena concert and never capture the magic of these spontaneous live performances.

I promise, no music next week.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 9/26/11

The leaves are turning up here in the Great White North, and on our lake folks are beginning to take in their docks for the winter. Yesterday Shauna and her parents joined me for a Fall foliage boat ride, and it was a spectacular day. I figured there may not be many more like it before the harsh winds of Fall start to blow. It’s always a bit of a challenge to get my father-in-law off the dock and into the boat, but once he was in and we were under way, he loved the ride. We cruised the length of the of three lakes (over 10 miles in all), stopping occasionally to take in a particularly colorful maple or a blue heron perched on a dock. I talk a lot about living in the moment, unencumbered by the past or the future, and in truth this has been a struggle for me. Days like yesterday remind me why living in the moment is a worthwhile endeavor.

The Toronto International Film Festival ended last week, the poodles of Hollywood have all jetted back to their charmed if dysfunctional lives, and it is once again safe for Torontonians to reclaim their city. Headed back up north from Buffalo, I was around for the very beginning of the festival, and took a walk through Yorkville to find my pals George Clooney and Brad Pitt. They were nowhere to be found, but I did see a lot of frothing fans swarming about. While I admit that I am somewhat intrigued by the glamour of celebrity, my favorite part about walking through Yorkville is to see all the hot Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and modified sport bikes.

If the horrid state of the global economy, the growing tension in the Middle East, most recently evident in Palestine’s U.N. bid for statehood, the fears of catastrophic weather, and the ever present threat that Jersey Shore halfwit Snooki might become a Pulitzner Prize winning author aren’t enough to rattle your composure, here’s something new to fret over: falling space debris. Last Friday a NASA UARS (Upper Atmosphere Space Satellite) was predicted to fall to Earth, and no one was sure where the debris would land. The biggest chunk was predicted to be about 300 pounds, but I’m guessing that any space projectile which makes landfall would likely leave a nasty bruise. According to the news, the chances of any human being struck by the falling debris were 1:3200. Luckily, this one landed harmlessly in the Pacific, somewhere off the west coast of North America. Apparently, there are about 20,000 pieces of man made space junk floating around up there right now, little detrimental bi-products of our space age technology. It’s not bad enough that we’ve trashed Mother Earth, must we litter outer space as well? I guess the writers of my favorite TV program Northern Exposure were ahead of their time when they created the character of Maggie, whose husband was killed when a falling satellite landed on him.

You’ve heard much talk about the of the Baby Boom generation, and of course the Generation X-ers; now, according to an article I just read in the NY Times, we usher in the Generation Limbos: 20-somethings who, having recently entered the anemic North American job market, find their prospects slim to none. In the article there were comparisons to the Japanese youth idled after the crippling recession that hit Japan back in the 1990s. It’s not a very cheery view of the prospects for the next generation, and perhaps it’s a wake-up call to all the greedy sons of bitches who caused the most recent economic disaster. Most of them have children, right, or did they eat them already? The article suggests that, absent the prospect of any kind of meaningful career to boost their sense of self worth, today’s college graduates are increasingly inclined to become reclusive, disenchanted, and apathetic. Of course there is even less hope for the under-educated. What concerns me most about this trend is that, if history repeats itself, prolonged economic downturns like this cultivate fanaticism and bad judgment. Take a look at pre-WWII Germany. As America braces for the very real prospect of another round of the dreaded “R” word, my hope is that a leader will emerge, either in Europe or the United States, who reminds us that it takes balls to make the tough decisions. Perhaps we the clueless electorate need to be a little clearer on that as well.

An early Shana Tova to all fellow members of the tribe; here's hoping it is a good new year. As for living in the moment, I’m having more luck letting go of the past than I am not worrying about the future. For the moment, the colors are spectacular.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 9/18/11

Today I resurrect one of my all too familiar rants. The time has come, and though I have resisted this decision for almost six years now, I am officially in the market for a new cell phone. For the past six years I have managed quite well with my very basic Sanyo Katana flip phone, but I am tough on my equipment, and no electronic device that I use daily lasts very long. I’ve probably dropped my cell phone a hundred times over the years, usually onto some hard surface. I once left it out in the pouring rain for three days straight, and it still works. The other day, the ringer failed to work, the keypad is a bit dodgy, and in other ways it’s becoming less than reliable. Primitive though it is by today‘s standards, it has proven to be durable and reliable, and I’d love to simply repair it and keep it for another six years. Unfortunately, these days technology renders perfectly good electronic devices obsolete within a few months, and pretty soon I fear this phone will not communicate properly on the ever-faster-new-and-improved-smart-texting-high-definition-mega-data-microwave networks. Let’s not even go into the fact that I cannot download “Angry Birds” or the thousands of other dubiously useful “apps” (applications) essential to technoweenies.

For the record, I despise cell phones (and most other “labor-saving” technology), and I truly believe that they are canaries in the coal mine, facilitating the death of meaningful communication. That said, like computers, this technology has insinuated itself into my daily life and I have become somewhat dependant on it. Anticipating this, and because I am allowed a new phone for free every three years, several months ago I went to Bell Mobility and reluctantly picked out a replacement which seemed the most similar to my basic Sanyo. It was anything but, and within 24 hours I returned it and re-activated my old phone. For me, internet access, advanced camera features, texting, gaming, and the ability to store my entire record and digital photo collection on a cell phone are of little use. I have a laptop that handles most of these tasks, and I don’t need to read the Huffington Post on a two inch screen. I simply want a cell phone to be able to make and receive calls with clear reception. Period. Bonus points if it’s made out of high impact rubber.

My wife and I were discussing recent advances in technology, and we came to the conclusion that for those of us approaching codgerdom, there is a break even point after which technology becomes frustrating and bothersome. I sat in line the other day behind an older woman at Wal-Mart who was having trouble using her debit card to pay for her goods. She couldn’t figure out how the new chip worked. I watched an ad on television the other day touting the benefits of some retirement facility. It featured a group of seniors standing around enjoying a game of Wii bowling (interactive video game). Clearly this was directed at the son or daughter who might actually know what Wii is, and who was contemplating a guilt free alternative to having their parents euthanized. I have a TomTom GPS in my car that I’m ready to throw out the window. The thing is possessed and occasionally decides on its own where it will direct me to drive. I found myself on the busy QEW highway the other day screaming “Shut Up!” to it at the top of my lungs, and the volume switch, which is touch screen technology, is almost impossible to adjust while driving. By the way, what is wrong with consulting a map; it’s no more distracting than fiddling around with a touch screen at 65 MPH? Anyhow, in my unsolicited opinion, phone companies have missed a huge marketing opportunity by denying us fifty and sixty-somethings our codger-friendly phones. And while you’re at it, invent a remote control that doesn’t require an engineer to operate! Herein ends the grumpy boomer rant.

Final notes. I watched the Republican debate in the States the other night. I think Ron Paul is just on the roster so someone will listen to him for 30 seconds. Michele Bachmann put her foot in it shortly after the debate suggesting that an injection to prevent HPV could cause mental retardation. Didn’t anybody brief her on the “no-no words” in political discourse? And so many of them spew out false statistics and information with the misguided confidence that no one will notice. In truth most of us don’t, but in this golden age of communication we have fact finders everywhere who remind us of what constitutes a lie, a damn lie, and/or a statistic. I watch these debates to cull the herd, but I’m probably better off throwing darts at a board. I have yet to see a true leader emerge, and who would want that job anyhow? Everybody thought Obama was the man, but now many of his supporters are turning on him (including the Democratic party). He did kill bin Bombin’. I guess that was his Cuban Missile Crisis. He was simply a better talker than the previous communications-challenged Commander-in-Chief. Now he has “Greengate” to contend with. Oops, we just threw away $535 Million of the taxpayer’s money on a failed solar energy company (Solyndra). Hey, at least it wasn’t a cell phone company. Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 9/12/11

Yesterday was the 10^th anniversary of the terrorist attacks in NYC and Washington D.C. I remember watching the morning news shortly after the first jet hit the twin towers and thinking it was just a tragic accident. Then, it became clear that we were under attack when the second tower was hit. Sitting in our apartment on the 45^th floor, I felt the same irrational fear and anxiousness many others probably felt. How big WAS this attack going to be? Shortly after that horrible event, a friend forwarded to me an article which seemed to capture all of the anger and outrage that a lot of North Americans probably felt. I printed it verbatim because I could not have expressed my rage more eloquently. To follow is that article, credited to Leonard Pitts Jr. and out of the Miami Herald. I hope you will take a few moments now to read it:

"We'll go forward from this moment.
It's my job to have something to say. They pay me to provide
words that help make sense of that which troubles the American
soul. But in this moment of airless shock when hot tears sting
disbelieving eyes, the only thing I can find to say, the only
words that seem to fit, must be addressed to the unknown
author of this suffering.

You monster.
You beast.
You unspeakable bastard.
What lesson did you hope to teach us by your coward's attack
on our World Trade Center, our Pentagon, us? What was it you
hoped we would learn? Whatever it was, please know that you
failed. Did you want us to respect your cause? You just damned your
cause. Did you want to make us fear? You just steeled our
resolve. Did you want to tear us apart? You just brought us
together.

Let me tell you about my people. We are a vast and quarrelsome
family; a family rent by racial, social, political, and class
division, but a family nonetheless. We are frivolous, yes,
capable of expending tremendous emotional energy on pop
culture minutiae a singer's revealing dress, a ball team's
misfortune, a cartoon mouse. We're wealthy, too, spoiled by
the ready availability of trinkets and material goods, and
maybe because of that, we walk through life with a certain
sense of blithe entitlement. We are fundamentally decent
though, peace-loving and compassionate. We struggle to know
the right thing and to do it. And we are, the overwhelming
majority of us, people of faith, believers in a just and
loving God.

Some people  perhaps think that all of this makes us
weak.

.../2


You are mistaken. We are not weak. Indeed, we are strong in
ways that cannot be measured by arsenals.            
IN PAIN. Yes, we're in pain now. We are in mourning and we are in
shock. We're still grappling with the unreality of the awful
thing you did, still working to make ourselves understand that
this isn't a special effect from some Hollywood blockbuster,
isn't the plot from a Tom Clancy novel. Both in terms of the
awful scope of their ambition and the probable final death
toll, your attacks are likely to go down as the worst acts of
terrorism in the history of the United States and, probably
the history of the world. You've bloodied us as we have never
been bloodied before,

But there is a gulf of difference between making us bloody and
making us fall. This is the lesson Japan was taught to its
bitter sorrow the last time anyone hit us hard, the last time
anyone brought us such abrupt and monumental pain. When
aroused, we are righteous in our outrage, terrible in our
force. When provoked by this level of barbarism, we will bear
any suffering, pay any cost, go to any length, in the pursuit
of justice.

I tell you this without fear of contradiction. I know my
people, as you, I think, do not. What I know reassures me. It
also causes me to tremble with dread of the future.
In the days to come, there will be recrimination and
accusation, fingers pointing to determine whose failure
allowed this to happen and what can be done to prevent it from
happening again. There will be heightened security, misguided
talk of revoking basic freedoms. We'll go forward from this
moment sobered, chastened, sad. But determined, too.
Unimaginably determined.


THE STEEL IN US

You see, the steel in us is not readily apparent. That aspect
of our character is seldom understood by the people who don't
know us well. On this day, the family's bickering is put on
hold.

As Americans we will weep, as Americans we will mourn, and as
Americans, we will rise in defense of all that we cherish.
So I ask again: What was it you hoped to teach us? It occurs
to me that maybe you just wanted us to know the depths of your
hatred. If that's the case, consider the message received. And
take this message in exchange:

You don't know my people. You don't know what we're capable
of. You don't know what you just started.
But you're about to learn." 

- Leonard Pitts Jr.

Ten years later, we just took out bin Laden, and there are probably a hundred more like him with his despicable intentions. I doubt this silent war will ever truly be over. At present, the “Arab Spring” is sweeping across the Middle East, but how will this affect the people of North America? As I leave you on this fateful anniversary, I wonder if this silent war in which we now find ourselves embroiled is simply a battle of good vs. evil or of two equally flawed ideologies. To quote Nietzche: “Convictions are more dangerous foes of truth than lies.” Amen to that.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 9/5/11

Yowza! It's Labor Day already?! Perhaps because of all the health care issues, and because I spent a lot of time running back and forth to Buffalo, this summer just flew by. Time in general has taken a quantum leap of late, and I am reminded if this unsettling fact when I hear of milestones passing, such as the sixth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. It makes me pause and wonder what the heck I’ve been doing with my time. That’s one of the reasons I’ve kept up writing the Oppenheimer Report for almost 20 years. It’s not simply for the edification of my 12 loyal readers, but also to jog my ever-eroding memory. Remember when the very disturbed Andrew Cunanan shot Versace to death in South Miami Beach back in 1997? This report, admittedly opinionated and laced with misinformation, is my opaque window into the past. I think keeping a journal, even bi-weekly or monthly, is a great way to create one’s own personal history book. Do you remember what you were doing back in 1992?

Once Hurricane Irene had passed and the skies had cleared, most of us who were not affected did not pay much attention to the aftermath. As with all natural disasters, I tend to lose interest if it doesn’t immediately affect me. In New York State alone the damage was formidable. I never stopped to consider the ramifications, but flash floods are as bad as tornadoes in terms of destruction. After a flood, farmers can’t feed their livestock, fertile topsoil has been washed away, supplies can’t get in because the roads are gone, long term power outages wreak havoc on already compromised communities. In short, the long term effects are devastating. What can you do when your home has been filled with raw sewage? Fun facts (gleaned from the CNN website): storm cleanup in NYS alone is estimated at $1Billion and agricultural losses are in the area of $45 Million. 600 homes were destroyed, 22 state bridges were closed, 150 major state highways were damaged, 145,000 acres of farmland were affected, 9 people died, and 6 towns were wiped out. New York can’t catch a break. Just when I thought Andrew Cuomo was going to  be the great white hope, he’s now saddled with a costly natural disaster. Patterson, N.J. was so bad that Obama chose it for his photo opportunity. My sister and brother-in-law, who live in New Canaan, Ct. near the Long Island Sound, headed for the hills before Irene struck. I still have not heard if their property was damaged. And speaking of can’t catch a break, tropical storm Lee just hammered the Gulf coast, making a direct hit on New Orleans. I heard on the news that this slow moving rainmaker dropped over 10 inches of rain on the Big Easy, and as much as 15-20 inches elsewhere along the coast. And Hurricane Katia is on deck. Happy Labor Day! So much for the desperately needed infusion of tourist dollars into the Gulf Coast.

In the “what else” department, teen heart throb Justin Bieber had a fender bender in his new Ferrari. How old is that kid? My first car was a used VW Beetle. The much-coveted Stanley Cup was dented when it fell off a table in Newfoundland. Is this a bad omen for the NHL? Fire that handler with the white gloves; isn’t it his job to protect The Cup? Looking for a place to park your investment dollars in these uncertain times? How about North Korea? I read that Kim Jung Il, the ever-charming, oddly coifed fearless leader of this little understood communist country, is looking for foreign investors to pour money into the Mount Kumgang resort in the Southeast part of his country. South Koreans had been the biggest investors (approximately $443 Million) until one of their countrymen was shot dead in 2008 after wandering into a nearby military zone (Mount Kumgang is very near the DMZ). Not a great draw for tourists. Now, as S. Korean investors try to pull their money out of the mothballed project, N.Korea is saying “you snooze you lose.” What more could you ask for in a resort investment … beautiful surroundings, good food, the omnipresent threat of spontaneous murder or incarceration at the hands of a ruthless despot? Where do I sign up? What those North Koreans need is Donald Trump as a consultant. The Humpster would have them in the black in no time. And I think he and Il have the same barber.

My heartfelt sympathy for all the victims of Irene. I suppose that by comparison to some of the other recent natural disasters in the world, including the earthquakes in Haiti and Japan, it could have been worse, but that’s easy for me to say, safe and dry in my Northern Ontario home.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 8/29/11

I woke up last Saturday morning, eagerly awaiting footage of the ravages of Hurricane Irene, which was crawling up the Eastern Seaboard, only to find that it had made landfall on the North Caroline coast as a Category One. After listening to Chad Meyers on CNN frothing at the bit and crying “The sky is falling,” and then listening to Mayor Bloomberg’s press conferences in NYC, I was expecting the worse. Spoke to my nephew the weather guy, who works in Virginia, and he was not all that impressed by the hype Irene was getting. Certainly she was a big storm, I believe something like 800 miles wide, but as my nephew pointed out, sometimes the big, slow moving ones aren’t the most dangerous. The infamous Hurricane Andrew, which so devastated southern Florida in 1992, was smaller in size but much more powerful in force. Of course all hurricanes are dangerous and destructive, and certainly this storm was no exception. Excessive rain was a major factor, and who knew Vermont would get hammered with flash floods? I figured most of the flooding would be coastal but it seems that flash flooding inland was a big problem as well. Here’s a fun fact: with all the precipitation from Irene, 23 inches of rain have now fallen in Philadelphia in the past month. I like NJ Governor Chris Christie: “Get the hell off the shore!” Seems like a no nonsense guy, and apparently he’s getting NJ back on financial track. Maybe he should run for president. As I finish this report on Monday night, I just heard on the news that around 5 Million people are without power. Prattsville, NY looked like it was completely underwater.

Whenever there’s a hurricane, I am always astounded by the locals who chose to ride it out. The people in Key West are notorious for their stubborn refusal to evacuate. If ever there comes a serious storm surge, those people will be toast. There were reports that some Philadelphia streets were flooded up to the to tops of street signs. One remark about casualties. I do not discount the severity of this storm, and as of this evening, the death toll from Irene is up to 25. I was reading the NY Times the other day, and buried on the back page was a story about a recent mosque bombing, I think in Iraq, and about the same number of people were killed. And that happens a lot over there.

What else … Visionary Apple CEO Steve Jobs stepped down last week, citing health issues, and Tim Cook will take over the reins. Japan is spitting out Prime Ministers like watermelon seeds. Former Finance Minister Yoshihiko Noda is the new guy in town and I think he’s number five or six in as many years. Before Irene trumped it, the big story was the “liberation” of Libya. As another oppressive dictator is chased out, one wonders what the new leaders will be like. I doubt they could be much worse. Gaddafi has fled to Algeria, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he receives a lethal dose of lead poisoning someday soon. By the way how DO you spell his name; I've seen it spelled 4 different ways? Notorious polygamist and convicted sex offender, Warren “The Prophet” Jeffs is in a coma, on injured reserve in a Texas hospital. That’s what he gets for going on a hunger strike. Megrahi, that much-despised Lockerbie bomber is in a coma. Good riddance to him. Syrian despot Assad is killing his countrymen at an alarming rate (about 2200 so far) as the world looks on, and I’m guessing he’s heading for the same hotel in Algeria where Gaddafi’s staying. Canadian NDP party leader Jack Layton died, rather suddenly, last week. After three decades of public service, Layton played an important role recently in thwarting the attempted Liberal coup of Stephen Harper’s Conservative government. Apparently he was a standup guy and well respected by many Canadians.

Today was the sixth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Goodnight Irene.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Back to Katrine 8/23/11

I am sitting in my childhood home in Buffalo, about to leave for to return to Katrine. Shauna left with Jasper the other day. Furniture has been spoken for, clothes have been given away, lawyers, accountants, funeral directors, appraisers, house sitters etc. have all done or will do their respective duties. While there are many loose ends to attend to, for now we have done what we were expected to do, and now I need to go back to my wife and my dog for a little R&R. Rattling around alone in this big old house is chipping away at me. I look forward to motoring out into the lake in my little boat and saying my spiritual goodbyes to the past.

The other night I had a disturbing experience while out walking Jasper near the house in Buffalo, and it reminded me how important it is to be thankful for my health and good fortune. As I rounded a corner returning to our house, I watched a bicyclist lose control and fall hard on the street right in front of me. She was clearly badly injured and as luck would have it, an off duty Erie County Sheriff was nearby when it happened. Shaken up,  I watched as the ambulance took her away, and reminded myself that not everyone is fortunate enough to live a full and healthy life. It is important to remind myself of this from time to time.

For all of you who attended the service or wrote a note, thank you. I should be back to my usual loquacious,complaining, annoying, irreverent self  in a few weeks. Hopefully, if you have followed this blog in the past, you will continue to do so.

Jamie

My Eulogy for Mom- Temple Beth Zion, August 12, 2011

You will have to forgive me if my thoughts are a bit mixed up today, because that’s how I feel, mixed up. I’ve written and re-written this eulogy over and over in the past few days and I simply don’t know how to convey to you how much my mother meant to us. This much I know: I’m writing this at 3am and I have hit the wall. No matter how long we have with our parents, it’s always a shock when they go, and while I knew Mom’s passing was probably a blessing, that her time had come, I think I was in denial. Though she hadn’t been herself for quite some time, her love, her strength, and her influence on me were so profound that I simply could not bear to face the inevitability of her demise. I am still her little boy.

When Jill and I met Rabbi Pokras the other day, we had a good talk, and he reminded me that this should be my attempt to honor my mother. I cannot do that by listing her many accomplishments in the community, though they were impressive, or by listing the things she loved, though they were many. Most or all of you knew her, and this would be preaching to the choir.

I’ve been so pre-occupied with the past 5 years of my parents' health care and the various complications inherent in their growing old that I have lost sight of one fundamental truth: both my Mom and Dad lived a long and mostly wonderful life together, full of travel, horseback riding, a vigorous social life, and a remarkable ability to find the humor in almost everything.  Dad was the humorist but Mom was quite funny too.

I arrived in Buffalo Sunday night and Mom passed away the next day. In a flash of life, last Monday afternoon, my childhood home became simply a house again. For all of my 54 years, every plate, every stick of furniture, every cooking utensil, every picture on the wall, was part of that wonderful home, lovingly picked by my Mom to make our lives beautiful. As a child and a teenager, for the most part, I took all that for granted, and I took my Mom for granted as well. It wasn’t until I was a young adult that I began to appreciate my extreme good fortune. I always felt safe in that house, and that house was all Mom‘s vision. Those walls that surrounded us lived with all the humor, joy, heartbreak, love, and passion that not every family is fortunate enough to experience. Mom and Dad had established that cocoon of security, filled with guidance and patience and all the indescribable traits that made them special parents. It was a place where celebrations were warm and filled with laughter. But those walls are simply walls now, and without the people who made them breathe, they too have lost their life. As I said, this morning I hit the wall, and I cried and cried.

I was looking through one of Mom’s old yearbooks and in the description under her senior picture, she was described as diminutive but strong. She might have been little but she was one tough lady, and everyone from the gardener to her banker, to the many members of the community with whom she worked so hard, knew not to underestimate her. Even through the ongoing challenges of her struggle with Lewy Body Disease, Mom showed courage, grace, and humor. All of her nurses loved her and told us stories of her wit and her generous, unselfish nature. It is telling that during the challenging last years of her life, she managed to let her good nature peek through the sometimes thick veil of dementia. Courage under fire, that was my Mom.

When I was a little boy, maybe five or six, I was with Mom in Ward’s Pharmacy, around the corner from our house on Chapin, and I tried to steal a box of crayons. Unschooled as I was in the finer points of criminal behavior, I stole something much too large to conceal - if I recall, it was one of the jumbo boxes of 72, complete with the built-in sharpener, and Mom caught me before the owner of the store could. She took me by the hand, led me up to the counter, and made me confess my crime to the manager. She told me to apologize and ask for his forgiveness or else he might send me to jail. I was mortified, but I learned an important lesson about consequences that day. Therein began Mom’s lifelong campaign to steer me in the right direction. I say without hesitation that was an uphill climb. Grace, honor, humor, and dignity are not things which I embraced, but my Mom and Dad led by example, in subtle, gentle, and understated ways. While I might have been a slow learner, I had plenty of lessons, and got the message, loud and clear. Jill and I were both instilled with a strong sense of right and wrong, and through our parents’ upbringing, we knew we had an obligation to give back.

Many of you knew my Mom well, and you are familiar with her contributions to the community, to hospitals, schools, and other institutions. You may know she loved all things to do with horses, and that in general, she had a profound interest in and love for her dogs and all animals in general, she created many beautiful needlepoint canvases, and many spectacular floral gardens. You may know that she had impeccable taste in fashion … but did you know that she was artistic? She rarely spoke of that fact, but as a young woman, she was an accomplished artist, and earned her living in Manhattan as an illustrator in the fashion industry. Her creativity was infectious and her artistic side had a profound influence on me. Somehow, without pushing, she managed to encourage my love of music, writing, and photography. Mom didn’t care what we did as long as we grew and learned. Again, it was that unselfish, unforced guidance that made me respect my parents the most.

This past week, living at 140 Chapin Pkwy, the house in which Jill and I grew up, those memories, captured in the volumes of old photos through which we have pored, have overwhelmed me. The family put together some pictures on a bulletin board which you can see at the reception to follow, and I think those particular pictures best depict a life well lived … certainly better that I could ever verbalize.

We are, all of us, the product of our experiences and the love we receive. I go back to the differentiation between a house and a home. As I did with my Dad, I measure my Mom’s life in terms of the lives she touched, the love she radiated; the home she created. In all of those ways, she excelled. Neither Mom nor Dad was particularly overt about their love, but make no mistake, Jill and I, and our extended families, knew by their actions how much they loved and cared for us. Their love trickles down and has now touched the three generations that have succeeded them. Mom and Dad did that for us and I can never explain how thankful I am for that blessing. For those of you who have long since lost both your parents, you probably know how we feel, and we all cope in our own ways. This morning, I broke through the protective emotional wall, and I broke down. There is already a huge void left in the absence of their guidance and love.

I know it’s time to start paying it forward. I hope I am up to the task. Thank you Mom, you were as good as they come. I miss you very much, and I will do my best to live up to the wonderful example you set.

Betty Lehman Oppenheimer - September 14, 1919 - August 8, 2011

Got back to Buffalo last night late, and this afternoon around 4:30 PM, mom drifted off in her sleep. It could not have been a more peaceful end.

The Oppenheimer Report

First of all, I want to forewarn any of my readers who are averse to discussions about the end stages of life to skip this entry. Many of you may be wrestling with the same issues, certainly many of my peers with living parents are, and I need to put this in writing. To date, the decisions which have confronted me and my sister may be among the most important decisions we have had a hand in making. I said in my last entry that this report is my therapy, and I write this because I need to verbalize how complicated all of this is. If anyone can learn anything from my experience, or at least relate, then that is a good thing.

I’m back in Katrine for a while, and I don’t know when I’ll be called upon to return to Buffalo. Could be a day, could be a week. The waiting is hell. I’ve been down to Buffalo several times in the past month and Mom had reached a new low. Our concern, and the concern of our nurses was that the Lewy Body symptoms had become so bad in the last couple of weeks that my mom was in an almost constant state of agitation. For someone unfamiliar with the disease, this can be ugly. It includes Parkinson’s-like tremors, kicking and flailing, and a lot of strange noises. The mom I knew is almost completely gone now. While she may not have been in any physical pain, she hadn’t slept in five days, was having difficulty swallowing solid foods, and was generally unresponsive and hard to manage. Up until a few weeks ago, she would occasionally “come to” enough to speak and to recognize us. Our goal has always been for her to live out her days at home, and at least one of our nurses is hospice trained. That said, now that the end is near, there are no simple answers for how to properly care for her. The issue at hand: what could we give her to calm her down, help her to rest? This is the point I have dreaded for the past year; the point when I and my sister would be called upon as Mom’s health care advocates to make decisions about her end stage care. There was much discussion about morphine, which accelerates death, and neither my sister Jill, nor I felt comfortable going this way. While my mom’s case is probably a textbook example of why euthanasia might sometimes be the “right” course, we could never in good conscience do this without clear instructions from Mom. That ship has sailed. The neurologist suggested a mild sedative to “snow” her and allow her to sleep. We tried Xanax with limited success. It calmed the agitation, but had other side effects. Next we tried Atavan, which seems to work much better. Given sublingually (drops under the tongue), it is a medication that can be given as needed and in easily adjusted doses. Every patient is different. Mom reacted badly to almost every medication we tried throughout this five year journey, and to complicate matters, as her condition changed, so did her tolerance for certain drugs. I take some comfort in knowing that at least she is calm now, and that her imminent demise will be more peaceful than it otherwise would have been. Not all that comforting, but the best we can do.

The myth with which I deluded myself all my life was that each of my parents would one day drift off and simply never wake up. That was not how it was with Dad; he struggled near the end. One nurse in particular was able to guide him through his last days and help alleviate the anxiousness. He too took a little Atavan near the end, and that helped him with what in medical terms is called “terminal agitation.” Although he kept saying he wanted to die near the end, I don’t think it was until the very end that he was really ready to let go. My mom is a strong woman, and she has now lived almost 20 years longer than any of the females in her blood line. Hers has decidedly been a life well lived, even as we approach this confounding and difficult end. As one of our nurses so wisely pointed out, when making decisions about end stage health care, we can do no better than to disregard what we want, and to focus on what is right for the loved one. Sounds simple doesn’t it? It is anything but. I know we probably made mistakes; there were things I’d do differently had I the chance to do it all over. What Jill and I have learned, and what I hope to impart here is that loving someone does not ensure one does the right thing. That “right thing” may include removing the primary physician who, in our case, completely dropped the ball and failed to admit he knew next to nothing about this little understood dementia. Sometimes it is simply being present, and listening to the patient. Pay attention to the doctors and nurses you trust. Assess the options, and do what is right for the patient. Where my mom is concerned, those decisions became more clear as the end approached. I feel confident that with the care and advice of her neurologist and our wonderful nurses, we have guided my Mom to her end with as much peace as she could hope for. That of course gives me some measure of peace as well. As I write this she is still with us, barely. I love you Mom.



Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report -8/1/11

To my twelve loyal readers …

My mom is gravely ill and nearing the end of her journey. While I love writing the Oppenheimer Report, and while it is often my therapy, I haven’t got a lot to say this week. The last few years have been a challenge for my family, but Mom is almost 92, and for the most part, she’s had a wonderful, interesting life. I’m sure I’ll have something to say about this and about her in the coming weeks, but at present, I am uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

I’ve been lucky enough to have two great parents, and even though they were with me well into my 50s, I’m having trouble letting go of them. In my mind, I’m still the little boy pictured above.

Jamie

The Oppenheimer Report - 7/25/11

Oh, what a sad day for baseball! Former Toronto Blue Jay pitcher Roger “The Rocket” Clemens just got a free pass when his perjury trial was declared a mistrial last week. He now joins Casey Anthony in the “get-out-of-jail-free” department. Drug use in pro sports; what a surprise. If Roger did use steroids and lie about it on the stand with impunity, that’s a regrettable miscarriage of justice. What is even more regrettable is that this mistrial has probably cost the U.S. taxpayers tens of millions of dollars. I read an article last week stating that the Clemens trial involved 103 federal agents, five prosecutors, and 229 investigative reports made at 72 different locations. Mega-hitter Barry Bonds was convicted of steroid use and to what end? It might have been a moral victory for the prosecution, but the penalty was about as stiff as a parking ticket, and it took almost a decade to achieve that victory. How many countless millions of dollars of the taxpayer’s money did Clinton’s enemies spend trying to bring him down after Blowjobgate? There was the whole Whitewater investigation, which went on forever, and I wouldn’t exactly say they “nailed” him. They sent Martha Stewart to jail for some trumped up insider trading charge, but Clemens walks? That just doesn’t seem right. As for cleaning up the game of baseball, or any other professional sport for that matter, good luck with that. I love it when politicians step into the limelight and try to legislate morality. That’s always a “win-win” for America. Then, I read the other day that former IMF leader Dominique Strauss-Kahn may also walk because the woman who accused him of rape has been discredited. So let me get this straight; Rape, murder, perjury, and pillaging pension funds, are defendable crimes, as long as you are rich, or powerful, or some hotshot lawyer wants to make his or her reputation by winning your case. Justice may be blind, but apparently she does have a checking account. Once again I refer to the French Revolution. Audible groan of righteous indignation.

British bad girl and multi-Grammy-winning singer-songwriter Amy Winehouse finally succumbed to her demons and expired a few days ago. Can’t say I didn’t see THAT coming. While there is no official cause of death, a Winehouse friend (dealer?) said she had probably taken a “dodgy” tab of Ecstasy. I love the reasoning behind this; the friend said that Winehouse could drink and snort cocaine all night long without a problem, and she would have been just fine if she hadn’t taken that impure E. Let that be a lesson to you kids; make sure your Ecstasy is pure before you combine it with copious amounts of alcohol and cocaine. Winehouse now has the dubious honor of joining Club 27, the growing list of gifted musicians who died at age 27. Also members of the club: Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison, Kurt Cobain, Rolling Stone Brian Jones (1942-1969), and Grateful dead founder Ron “Pigpen” McKernan (1946-1973). Because I have a morbid fascination with celebrity crash-and-burns, I always want to know the cause of death. Sometimes it’s just a bizarre accident. Club 27 member Dennis Boon, lead singer of the punk band The Minutemen, fell out of a van as it made a sharp turn and broke his neck. Malcolm Hale, one of the original members of the 60s band Spanky and Our Gang, died from carbon monoxide poisoning from a faulty space heater. Hardly a rock star death. Fun fact: Mamas and the Papas singer “Mama Cass” Elliot died of a heart attack in a London flat she was renting from Harry Nilsson, and not, as the urban myth goes, by choking on a ham sandwich. Spooky coincidence: The Who drummer and wild man Keith Moon died in the same flat four years later, AND both Moon and Elliot were 32 when they died. Maybe there should be a Club 32.

Anders Behring Breivik, a right wing nutcase from Oslo, Norway killed about 93 people, some in an Oklahoma- style bomb attack in Oslo, and around 85 people he shot to death while impersonating a police officer on a nearby island. We don't know yet whether other people were involved in the attack. Much was made of the slow response of the SWAT team called out to apprehend Breivik, but how do you anticipate an attack as out-of-the-blue and so obviously well-planned out as Breivik’s? Like Loughner in Arizona and that Cho guy at Virginia Tech, Breivik is the most recent time bomb to explode. I found it interesting that, according to Norwegian law, if convicted, Breivik can only receive a maximum of 21 years for his crime.

Do you think Lance Armstrong was juiced when he won all those Tour de Frances? If they wanted to prove Clemens was “juicing” wouldn’t his testicles tell the truth? Talk amongst yourselves.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 7/18/11

We love our Miniature Schnauzer Jasper, so much so that we named our house after her: Jasper Bark Lodge. It’s a play on the name of a famous lodge in Jasper, Alberta called the Jasper Park Lodge. Anybody familiar with the breed knows Schnauzers are stubborn dogs with a lot of attitude, and this can be somewhat trying at times. Every morning as soon as Jasper wakes up, she makes a bee line for the big picture windows in the front of the house so she can “hunt” the squirrels and chipmunks. When she sees one, she goes absolutely berserk, hopping up and down frantically and screaming at the top of her lungs. We’ve tried several “dog whisperer” techniques to break her of this annoying habit, with limited success. Now, when confronted with a rodent outside, and with the proper signal from her alpha leader (me), she will stifle her craziness and instead let out marginally less annoying moaning and howling sounds. Sometimes she picks up one of her toys and barks with it in her mouth, thus muffling the sound. That always makes me laugh. Perhaps we are screwing her up by altering her natural instincts, but isn’t that what family is all about?

Citizen Kane is playing out in real life, and we may be re-examining the freedom of the press issue after Gazillionaire Rupert Murdoch again found himself in hot water. One of his more popular scandal rags, Britain’s News of the World, was accused of serious phone hacking abuses, and Murdoch finally shut it down last week. Now, the question is how will this affect the rest of his media empire. Pioneer journalist Edward R. Morrow must be rolling in his grave after these allegations of intrusive and unethical reporting. News of the World is accused of, among other things, hacking into the phone records of a teenage murder victim, and deleting phone records vital to the police investigation. We don’t seem to mind so much when tabloids besmirch the reputations of celebrities and penis-tweeting politicians, but when they go after the man on the street, this apparently crosses that very faint line of ethical journalism. Clearly some of these tabloid stories are over the top, and this latest charge is a wake up call to remind us how bad some tabloid indiscretions have become. Sadly, no one ever lost money overestimating the public‘s appetite for yellow journalism, and there seems to be an insatiable demand for lurid details. I wonder what if any impact this will have on Murdoch’s U.S. holdings, which include Fox News, The New York Post, and The Wall Street Journal? My favorite newspaper, which I don’t believe is a Murdoch publication, is The Weekly World News. Their in depth coverage of the Bat Boy sightings in Texas was nothing short of Pulitzer-worthy. If Shauna has not yet thrown it out, I probably still have my Weekly World News “Bat Boy Lives!” tee shirt. I love this stuff: “Woman Killed by Mink Coat” … “Clinton Endorsed by Space Aliens” … that sort of thing. My favorite headline, which was on my kitchen wall for years: “Man Loses Testicle Down Hot Tub Drain.” And speaking of media coverage …

A few reflections on the Casey Anthony verdict. Everybody is upset because this woman got away with murdering her little girl, but none of us really knows what happened. We all think we do, because we have had a steady stream of experts telling us what might have happened. She was tried in the court of public opinion. Clearly she was not a great mom, and probably not a good person in general. Some jurors interviewed after the verdict said that there was reasonable doubt; some even felt that Casey’s father George was suspicious. Sounds to me like the system worked. Perhaps if the prosecution hadn’t gone for Murder One, there might have been hope for a conviction. What I find bizarre about this whole thing is that, probably because of all the media attention, Casey Anthony is now a kind of celebrity, albeit a notorious one. She has apparently been offered a book deal and she could make some serious money because of her notoriety. Bonfire of the Insanities. Perhaps we should start licensing the rights to serial killer’s names. Wouldn't you go to a fast food restaurant called J. Dahmer’s?

Final note … a moment of silence for Betty Ford, who passed on last week. I’ve got no snide remarks about that. Hats off to Betty for her humility, and for shining a light on the huge problem of alcohol and drug abuse in America.

I want to know how a man’s balls can be sucked down a hot tub drain. I think maybe we need an Edward R. Morrow Clinic for recovering tabloid writers.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2011 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED