The Oppenheimer Report 2/25/08

The other day, I made my first purchase from EBay. I bought a clock with a face depicting an Al Capp (creator of the L’il Abner comic strip) illustration from an old Wildroot Hair Cream ad. Wildroot was my maternal grandfather’s company, and I thought it might be interesting to have this memento, albeit a cheap modern knockoff off the real thing. A long time ago, when Al Capp was hired by my grandfather to illustrate for Wildroot ads, Mr. Capp drew two L’il Abner pen and ink sketches for Grampy, dedicated to my two sisters Jill and Joanne. One depicts Mammy Yoakum, and the other is a sketch of L’il Abner. Those two drawings hung in my parents’ house for years, until one day, during a high school party my sister threw, the one entitled “Jill’s Mammy Yoakum” was stolen, probably as a stupid prank. Although it probably has much more sentimental value to us than monetary value to someone else, I doubt we’ll ever recover that sketch. I still have the “Joanne’s L’il Abner” sketch, and because it is dedicated to my deceased sister, it has great value to me.

As we build this new home up north, it occurs to me how much I have collected so far in my short life. While I am fortunate to have so much “stuff”, these days, I find that I’m looking for ways to simplify my life a bit. I once berated my mother for throwing out my entire model car collection in one of her cleaning frenzies. In fact, had she not done so, I’d probably still be agonizing over where to store all that plastic junk. These days, I am a little more selective about the mementoes I retain. When Shauna’s brother passed away many years ago, we were charged with the task of cleaning out his condo down in Florida. That sad exercise made me realize how true is the old adage, “You can’t take it with you”. What are we to do with the plastic drink cups saved from past Miami Dolphins SuperBowl? Somewhere in our larder there sits an unopened box of “Flutie Flakes” … presumably retained for its unique value to a cereal box collector. I used to collect very old postcards of Buffalo and Crystal Beach. I now have so many now that I can’t put them all in albums. The good news is that they have essentially quadrupled in value over the past fifteen years, but so what … I’ll never sell them. Now I’ve shaken hands with the Great eBay Satan, and I’m hooked. The other day, I found myself perusing 3,000 options for antique copper bowls. We’re looking for one to serve as the sink for a vanity we are designing. Maybe I can trade someone for a Miami Dolphins Superbowl beer cup. One thing is for sure … I’m not giving up that L’il Abner sketch.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/18/08

A week ago last Saturday, I drove down to nearby Kearney, Ontario to attend my first dogsled race. Our builder is one of the coordinators of the race, an annual event in Kearney, and I thought I’d show my support. This is in fact an international race, and, to my surprise, there is actually a Jamaican dog sled team. I laughed when I heard about the Olympic bobsled team, and now I find they have a dogsled racing team. Training must be a challenge. What’s next, curling? The promoters of the race put out a little magazine with information about the race, and one of the sponsor ads had a photo of Husky, muzzle up, and baying. The caption read: “Don’t worry, be yappy!”

I arrived in Kearney on Saturday afternoon, just in time for the 4km purebred race. As I walked up to the community center, command central, it became apparent that this dogsled race was no small event. There were lots of people, kennel trucks parked everywhere, the omnipresent sound of dogs yapping, and mushers were busy hitching their teams to sleds for the upcoming race. Our general contractor, Wayne Thornton greeted me, showed me around the grounds, and then walked me as far as the starting line so I could get a clear view of the teams as they took off. Teams were staggered in two minute intervals, and I was able to stand several yards away from the mushers as they raced by. As the course essentially began and ended at the same narrow starting line, there were some close calls as mushers heading out had to be alert to the avoid collisions with the mushers heading in. Steering a team of dogs is a bit more complicated than steering a car, and much of that is achieved through verbal commands. In addition to the dogsled races, there were other events as well. Out on a nearby lake, the local fire department demonstrated the rescue procedure for a victim who had fallen through the ice. There was a wood carver shaping a bear with a chain saw out of a cedar log (our bears are nicer!). There was live music, plenty of food and drink, and I was able to indulge in MY favorite pastime: people watching. Mushers are a colorful bunch and I had a great time. I’d like to attend the Kearney dogsled races next year as well, hopefully with Shauna in tow.

Work on the house seems to be progressing well, despite the horrendous weather conditions. The last section of the roof deck was laid last Friday, shortly after the insulators finished blowing spray foam in between the 10 inch structural JSI’s which separate our ceiling from our roof deck. We hope that this week, weather-permitting, the roofers will finish installing the steel roof. As of this writing, the wind is blowing strong, and the roads are glare ice. Our lighting designer, James Solecki, was on site all last week as well, drilling holes and installing pot light cans for the 200+ pot lights which will in large part light our home. Because dark wood stain apparently eats light, and our house is stained dark, proper lighting is essential. I have respect for people who can properly light a challenging space; it’s harder than it may look. As I have said all along, a custom design is difficult to picture in two dimensions. Many of our decisions have necessarily been made on the fly as the house is built. Even with the aid of three dimensional design software, which our builder has thankfully provided, and which has been extremely helpful in modifying our floor plan before construction, it is hard to really visualize the space until the logs are up. So far, I am not disappointed, and that is due, in large part, to Shauna’s perseverance. I burned out long ago, and my job at present is to ensure that she doesn’t end up in a padded cell, mumbling gibberish about pedestal sinks.

We’re in the home stretch now, and that is when things begin to get really crazy. Plumbing fixtures are the latest investigation which continues to confound us. There are simply too many choices for everything. Internet companies like Fixture Warehouse, and Faucets.com offer thousands of options for everything form showers to kitchen faucets. I used to laugh at those haughty designers on HGTV, throwing hissy fits about incompatible bathroom fixtures, and now we find ourselves immersed in this bizarre trivia. Rockstar Obama is building momentum, some mentally ill gunman killed five students at Northern Illinois University, there was an explosion killing eighty victims in Afghanistan, Vlad Putin wants to restart the Cold War … meanwhile, Shauna and I are embroiled in a much more serious debate: traditional vs. modern for the bathroom faucets? Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/29/08

When we embarked on this journey towards the completion of our log home, over two years ago, Shauna did her usual copious research and investigated dozens of log home options. The process made us a little apprehensive, because the more we read and researched, the more questions we had. There have been volumes written on the subject of log home construction, with thousands of caveats and horror stories. Our very first glimmer of hope came from a salesman named Dave Schemenauer from Neville Log Homes in Kamloops, British Columbia. I remember the day Shauna first spoke to him on the phone, and the enthusiasm with which she recounted to me his helpful and educational explanation of what we could expect to experience during the construction of our log home. It was his capable assistance that sold us on a Neville Log Home, and we have never been sorry about our choice. He has been a constant source of information and guidance throughout the process, and much of what he forewarned us came to pass. Round log packages vary from manufacturer to manufacturer, and in some cases, what differentiates one company from another is the level of customer service. Long after we had paid for our log package (about a year after we started talking to Dave), when he could have legitimately told us to “move on”, he remained available to us, patiently addressing our many concerns, always willing to offer his two cents worth for the custom log home he’d helped us to design. Indicative of his personal touch, Dave even took the 2 1/2 hour drive up from Toronto last autumn to make a personal inspection of our unfinished house, while he was in Toronto for a home show. In short, Dave Schemenauer has been and continues to be a good friend to Shauna and me.

Several weeks ago – before Christmas I believe – we got a call from Dave to inform us that a package would be arriving by Greyhound bus “sometime soon”. He was rather mysterious about what the package contained, but implied that it was bigger than a bread box. After some delays, Dave called us last week and told us it would arrive soon, which it did. Shauna and I picked it up in Huntsville last Tuesday. It came in the form of two, somewhat cylindrical 75 Lb. cardboard packages which stood about 4 feet high. When we got them home, and unwrapped them, it turned out that Dave’s gift to us was two upright bears carved out of (I believe) Western Red Cedar, and there was a third item as well: a sign which reads “Welcome to Jasper Bark Lodge”. The bears are sign posts (see photo above). Needless to say, Shauna and I were amazed and delighted by the gift. When we called him to thank him for his generosity, he asked us to give him a call when we’d named them.

The timing of these bears is propitious. Yesterday, the final valley log was placed and the last portion of our roof is well along the way to being covered. Weather permitting (hah!), our house should be completely covered by this time next week. As well, yesterday, the roofer and his crew arrived and began installing the steel roof. As of today, much has been accomplished and that metal roof looks great. We are learning that, where construction is concerned, there are sometimes long periods wherein it seems as if little is accomplished, then, two days later, everything is different. This log home project is suddenly beginning to look like a house, and a beautiful one at that. Hold your horses Jamie … we still have the windows to install, the fireplaces to build, more stone to lay on the turrets, interior walls to frame and side, the kitchen and bathrooms to install, the floor to lay, the plumbing and HVAC to install, a LOT of staining to do, etc. etc. This build has been a real roller coaster ride, but for the first time, we can see a light at the end of the tunnel. Thanks, as always, to the Thornton Group, for being the fantastic builders they are, and thank you, Dave Schemenauer, for your consistent generosity. Our bears, “Shem” & “Nauer” may be welcoming guests to the Jasper Bark Lodge sooner rather than later.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/21/08

Did you ever see that journal spoof on the Internet wherein the naive resident, new to an area which received massive amounts of snow, began his entries reveling in the bucolic beauty of his winter wonderland? Gradually, he became more and more negative with each successive day of snowfall, and by about the fourth week, he was cursing the snow as he became increasingly (and I love this expression) shack whacky. A few weeks ago, I was joking about how I was ardently resisting the temptation to buy a snow blower. For the past few days, we have been getting dumped upon up here in the lovely community of Burk’s Falls. Last Friday, we awoke to a foot of the white stuff and, no problem, I dug us out. Saturday, the same thing happened, and again, no problem. No sooner did I finish that vigorous 30 minutes of shoveling, when we received a third dumping. I’m still O.K. with this, and will likely grudgingly continue my manual snow removal routine throughout this winter, if only to reinforce how lovely it will be to have a snow blower next year.

As a tease, I bought a copy of the local “Buy and Sell” swap sheet the other day, and looked into various exotic snow removal options. I can buy a slightly used 1953 Ford tractor that “runs good” for only $1800. All I need to do is buy a plow for the front. Another option is to buy a beater truck with a V-8 and a snowplow attachment. The problem with those rigs is that I wouldn’t know how warn out the truck is … a little sawdust goes a long way to disguising a bad transmission. My favorite option is a 4 wheel drive ATV with a snow blower attachment. The great part about that option is that I can use the ATV as a (fun to use) utility vehicle during the summer months as well. Glenn, our great building project supervisor and my resident expert on all things mechanical, assures me that I need one with at least a 400 cc motor. I’m thinking 700 ccs would be better. That way, I could plow snow at 40 MPH, or pull my car out of a ditch.

Actor Heath Ledger, perhaps most famous for his leading role in the controversial movie “Brokeback Mountain” (homosexual cowboys? - who knew?), is dead at 28. I’m guessing it wasn’t the Ambien. In U.S. Politics, Hillary and Rock Star Obama got into a cat fight at the last Democratic debate in South Carolina. As I predicted months ago, when it seemed as if George Bush would drive even the most ardent Republicans over to the donkeys, the Democrats seem to exhibit an irrepressible tendency for self-destruction. Yesterday’s debate confirmed that theory, and it is ironic that John Edwards, the candidate with a cold chance in h-ll of being nominated, appeared to have taken the high road as the two front-runners gnawed each other to political death. The Toronto Maple Leafs fired their GM, John Ferguson, and being cautiously optimistic, as are all Leafs fans, I hope that the new guy will point the Leafs in the right direction. Hey guys, just get us into the playoffs for a change. Finally, our great carpenters are working on the last of four “valley logs” for the roof structure, meaning that, perhaps within a week to ten days, the house will be completely covered from above. Most of the casement windows have been repaired or replaced, and are nearby being stained, and exterior doors are on order. The house won’t be finished any time soon, but perhaps in the near future, we will be able to camp out on the floor! Gotta go now, Shauna and I are about to have what I’m sure will be a 3-hour discussion about how random we want our random-width, random-length pine floor planks to be.
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2008 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/14/08

During the winter, I like to ice skate. When we were living in Toronto, I skated on the outdoor rink next to City Hall, and that was fun. In general, I prefer to skate on outdoor rinks, but up here in Burk’s Falls, there is an indoor arena within walking distance of our rental home. Open skating is free, and I try to get over there once a week. These days, my exercise consists mainly of walking the dog, and walking into town to pick up the newspaper. Ice skating is a better way to burn some calories. Yesterday, I went over for my weekly skate, and there was a sign out in front of the arena advertising that the Burk’s Falls Winterfest was taking place inside. I’m always up for an adventure, so I went inside. I was greeted by one of the members of the Town council, asking me for two bucks; a small price to pay in order to attend this entertainment bonanza. For my money, I received a “Pete the Bear” admission pin. Pete used to be a Burk’s Falls mascot, before he succumbed to the evils of drugs and rock ‘n roll. There were a lot of people in the arena, but most of them were milling about eating french fries and hotdogs. I put on my ear buds, cranked up the Pink Floyd, and began my rigorous 20 minute workout on the ice. The few skaters that were on the ice were tiny tots on double runners, moms, dads, and a small gang of reckless ten year-olds. I find that latter group particularly challenging, because their actions are so unpredictable. I skated for a while, dodging adolescent obstacles and weaving around the slower skaters. I was quite proud of myself because, not to be immodest, I felt I was a much better skater than most of the ten year-olds out there. When I was about ready to take my last lap, I noticed that one of the mothers was handing out gift bags to various kids, prizes I suppose for winning a race or something. I thought that was nice. As I was getting ready to skate off the ice, I heard someone behind me calling “Sir … hello! … sir! …” and it was one of the mothers, chasing after me with a gift bag in her hand. I took off my earphones, and she said to me, and I quote: “We’re giving out a prize to the youngest and oldest person out on the ice today, and we’ve decided you’re the oldest.” I thought perhaps I was going to win a prize for being a good skater, but it was because I was, in their estimation, the oldest skater out there. I didn’t know exactly how to feel about that – it appeared to me as if some of the other people out on the ice might have been older than I, but I politely, if reluctantly, accepted the gift. I guess it’s official: I’m old.

Months ago, I mentioned that I’d finally had a proper demo made of one of my songs. That song is “Strange Holiday” and if you’re interested, you can click on the “Jamie’s Songs” link on this blog site and check it out on MySpace Music. The song is performed by my friend Bobby Cameron, and I hope you’ll give it a listen; Bobby’s got a great voice, and boy, can he play the guitar. He’s also a good songwriter in his own right, and I feel honored that he agreed to cover one of my tunes. I’m not sure you’ll find my songs on ITunes anytime soon, but one never knows.

It never ceases to amaze me how ridiculous the news media can be when it comes to covering just about anything. Last week, I listened to much of the drivel about the “washed up” careers of several primary candidates in the States, and my question is this: how can someone decide that a candidate is washed up after only two primaries? So far, almost all the experts have been dead wrong in their predictions, and the only refreshing part about that is the fact that the voters have proven that, regardless of what the overtly manipulative media try to put forth, voters seem to be voting their conscience, for better or for worse. Obama and Clinton have turned into a bit of a horse race, which I never saw coming. Perhaps a dark horse will emerge as the next president of the United States. How does President Kucinich sound to you? Now that I am an unofficial member of AARP, I wonder who the “fossil-friendly” candidates are. Oldest person on the ice…jeesh!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 1/7/08

We watched some of the coverage of the Iowa caucuses last week, as well as the New Hampshire debates (Republican and Democratic). It’s amazing what one will watch when there is a writer’s strike on. I wonder what David Letterman offered his writers in order to bring them back. Though I do not know what the issues are in this latest strike, I am glad that people are made to recognize how important a writer’s contribution is, not only to television, but to movies, and music. So often, I think the front line performers receive the lion’s share of the credit.

In desperate need of some levity, the other night, I tried to name all of the cartoon characters I remember from my youth, dating back to the very old Looney Tunes. The trigger for this exercise was listening to an old blues song which featured a Hammond organ. That reminded me of the theme from an old cartoon I used to watch called “Q.T. Hush”. Q.T. Hush and his sidekick Shamus were animated K-9 versions of Sherlock Holmes and his companion Watson. Does anybody remember “Clutch Cargo”, perhaps the most poorly animated popular cartoon in history? My hands down favorite cartoon characters are the creations of Jay Ward, Alex Anderson, and Bill Ward: Rocky the Flying Squirrel (a.k.a Rocket J. Squirrel) and Bullwinkle J. Moose, and to this day, I still love watching those cartoons. Remember Shermon and Mr. Peabody, the Wayback Machine, Fractured Fairy Tales, Boris Badenov, Natasha Fatale, Fearless Leader? In the Town of Banff, many of the streets are named after animals, and there is actually an intersection of Moose and Squirrel. I always thought it would be fun to live at that corner. Let’s see how many other cartoon characters I can summon up (in no particular order) : Huckleberry Hound, Augie Doggie, Doggie Daddy, Quickdraw McGraw, Baba Looey, Foghorn Leghorn, Felix the Cat, Master Cylinder, The Jetsons (George, Mary, Judy, Elmo, Rosie, Astro, Mr. Spacely), The Flintstones (Fred, Wilma, Barney, Betty, Pebbles, Bam Bam, Dino), Porky Pig, Bugs Bunny, Donald Duck, Goofy, Pluto, Yosemite Sam, Elmer Fudd, Daffy Duck, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, Tom and Jerry, Wile E. Coyote, Road Runner, Tweedy Bird, Sylvester the Cat, Pepe Le Pew, Space Ghost, Jonny Quest, Dr. Benton Quest, Hadji, Bandit, Race Bannon, Beanie and Cecil, Casper the Friendly Ghost, Scooby-Doo, Shaggy, Huey, Dewey, & Louie, Underdog, Yogi Bear, BooBoo Bear, Top Cat, Droopy Dog, Hong Kong Phooey, George of the Jungle, Magilla Gorilla, Chip and Dale, Alvin and the Chipmunks, Baby Huey, Woody Woodpecker, Speedy Gonzales, The Tasmanian Devil, Dudley DoRight, Horse, Nell, Snidely Whiplash, Inspector Fenwick (Nell’s dad), Mr. Magoo … and that’s off the top of my head. I’m sure I’ve forgotten plenty of good ones. Cartoons played an important part in my twisted development, and I still enjoy watching them today. Jasper does too; sometimes, we all watch Saturday morning cartoons together. She has developed my fondness for Moose and Squirrel.

Fun Facts: Walter Lantz, creator of Woody the Woodpecker, penned his first cartoon character, Dinky Doodle, back in 1924. Frostbite Falls, home of Rocky and Bullwinkle, was based on the Town of International Falls, Minnesota, located near the Canadian border. International Falls was once called “The Icebox of America.” “The Frostbite Falls Review” was the predecessor to the Rocky and Bullwinkle Show, and included many characters later cut from the roster. Google “Hanna Barbera” or “Looney Tunes” or “Rocky and Bullwinkle” if you too wish to take a trip down cartoon memory lane. If you ask me, it beats evaluating the increasingly irresponsible attack ads influencing the upcoming primaries.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12/26/07

Boxing Day in Burk’s Falls … it’s a shopper’s dream! Too bad I already paid too much for my goofy trooper hat a few weeks ago; I probably could have found a real bargain today. Hope you all had a happy holiday, spent with family and friends. My Christmas present last week was a clean bill of health. Last Thursday, I had my first colonoscopy, and while the twenty-four hours preceding the test were no picnic, the actual procedure was painless, thanks to a general anesthetic. The doctor says I won’t need another one of those tests for a long time, and I can focus my hypochondria on some other imagined ailments for the next decade. To my great disappointment, I did not receive a sucker after the procedure was over.

After the carpenters left last Friday afternoon, I spent an hour or two shoveling slush off the second floor of our still-open-to-the-elements log home. My concern was that, if I didn’t get rid of some of the piles of slush, everything would turn to solid ice as soon as the weather turned again. They can shovel the snow away, but chipping out blocks of ice is a little more time-consuming. While the majority of the house is now covered, the central living area is still essentially exposed to the weather. There are four valley logs (which run at 45 degree angles down from the peak ridge beam) which remain to go up before the roof can be completely closed in. For anyone familiar with log home construction, the logs which make up the roof structure are complicated and time-consuming to place. Those four valley logs need to be notched perfectly, and will likely be placed (with a crane) and taken down several times before they are perfectly fitted. All of the cutting work is done with chain saws, sometimes high up on a scaffold. Certainly, that work isn’t any easier when it’s very cold, the snow is falling heavily, and the wind is blowing hard. Actually, these log-framed roofs require a lot of time regardless of the weather conditions. Our head carpenter estimated that they would need about a week to complete their work on the two turret roofs, and that job took them closer to four times the amount of time he’d allotted. I can’t say enough about the carpenters on this job; their work ethic is fantastic and the quality of their work is excellent. Really everyone involved in building this house has been great; we have been very lucky to have chosen the builder we did.

With the New Year approaching, I’m quite sure that, barring any unforeseen circumstances, Shauna, Jasper, and I will be spending a quiet evening here in bucolic Burk’s Falls, and perhaps I will indulge in the attitude-adjusting benefits of a sparkling malt beverage or two. A few weeks ago, I wrote a tongue-in-cheek wish list for Santa, but I truly do want most of those things for mankind. I’ll settle for a little less hatred and misunderstanding, and I resolve to work on that goal where it concerns my behavior. For those of you who choose to partake in the ubiquitous, mind-altering festivities of First Night, by all means, knock yourself out … tie one on, paint the town red, smash that piñata, hoot, howl, spread your wings; drive the porcelain bus … but if you do choose to get conflobulated, take a cab, or let a sober person drive you home. I, Shauna, and Jasper wish you all a Happy New Year!
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 12/17/07

As I write this week’s report, with HGTV on in the background, I’m listening to a recording of the Rat Pack live at the Sands Hotel in Vegas, and Jasper is curled up next to me, snoring. Outside, the snow is piling up. Apparently, Toronto is getting a much more intense version of this snowstorm. I’ve already shoveled our driveway twice today, and it looks as if I’ll be doing it again before the day is done. The snow is beginning to blow horizontally, which probably isn’t a good thing.

So far, I have stubbornly refused to buy a snow blower, but my resolve is weakening. For the last forty years of my shoveling career, I have somehow managed to survive my winters without a gas-powered machine. The driveway of our rental home is only about sixty feet long, and I’m not giving in to an expensive, “labor-saving” device just yet. I am still an able-bodied young man (hah!), and I am capable of shoveling my own friggin’ driveway. The other day, I went to the local hardware store and bought one of those honker snow shovels, more designed for redirecting snow than actually shoveling it. It has a push bar, not a handle, and I simply push the snow where I want to … mostly out into the street and towards my neighbor’s driveway. Keep in mind we’re renters. Once I got the hang of using this manual snowplow, I found that I can clear our driveway in about fifteen or twenty minutes. As I said, so far today, I have been out twice.

I’ve been watching other people on our street – the ones who own snow blowers, and who have already been through my standard period of denial - and each one has his or her own unique style of snow removal. One woman stops every ten feet to inspect her progress (which tends to be a meandering path), one guy doesn’t seem to know how to direct the snow spout, and shoots it at his car and house. One guy has a little plastic booth in which he stands while he blows snow, so as to avoid the elements. He probably has a stereo set up in there too. The guy with the most interesting technique, blows his driveway in the conventional manner, then packs it down by doing donuts in his driveway with his snowmobile. Or maybe he’s just bored. Brief aside: snowmobiles are omnipresent here, and, much to my surprise, it is legal to drive them on most roads. There’s another mechanical device I will resist with vigor.

Yesterday, just for kicks, I did a little snow blower due diligence. I went over to my community post office to pick up our mail. Our post office in Katrine also serves as my marina, lawnmower repair shop, and Toro snow blower dealer. They had a real beauty on sale, complete with all the bells and whistles. It had six forward speeds and two for reverse. Why does one need two reverse gears for a snow blower … my car doesn’t even have that?! I wonder if one can get after-market headers and chrome exhaust pipes as well. If I do purchase a snow blower, I’m painting flames on it. Everyone I talk to up here advises me to get a blower with at least an 8HP engine and a 26” cut. No sense pussyfooting around up here; this is snow country. When I returned home, Shauna was rapt in a website advertising serious snow handling equipment. There was even heavy metal music playing in the background. I’m not interested in entering a monster truck competition here, I just want to clear the snow off our driveway. And I want the flames … . and maybe the chrome exhaust pipes.

Final notes … Gazillionaire “Lord ” Conrad Black was sentenced to six years in the gentleman’s slammer, convicted of defrauding his Hollinger stock holders. Willie “The Pig” Pickton received twenty-five to life for his ghoulish prostitute murders in B.C. . Singer songwriter Dan Fogelberg died at fifty-six, and a few weeks ago, the ever-whiny V.P. Al Gore won a Nobel prize, for being a whiner. Here’s a dilemma Al: Do not snow blowers contribute to global warming? Do more snow blowers mean more snow? Discuss.

- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 12/10/07

As most of my regular readers already know, I have been a close friend of Santa Claus for over twenty years now. He had some personal problems a while back, and I suppose that, in some small way, I helped him. I recommended a good lawyer in 1987 when he was slapped with that class action lawsuit over roof damage in New Jersey. ‘87 was a bad year for Santa. Rudolph fell “off the wagon” again, and there was the crippling elf strike. I got him into rehab after his FWI (flying while intoxicated) charge in Greenland. I advised him not to leave Mrs. Claus when she had that fling with the Kuwaiti arms dealer in 1994. My wife called it “menaclaus”, but whatever you want to call it, “the missus” really went off the deep end there for a few months. It just seemed a shame to let 438 years of marriage go down the tubes over one little error in judgment. Between you and me, Santa could probably do better; I think Bea Claus is uglier than E.T.

Anyhow, Santa and I have this bond, and I’ve never really asked him for anything… before now. This year, I’m breaking that tradition, and I have a list of simple requests for the main elf. Most of them are unselfish wishes -- I’ve got just about everything I need – but, I think these things might make good emotional “stocking stuffers” for mankind… here goes:

1.No more “Head-On” commercials!
2.No more CNN coverage of O.J. Simpson…inquiring minds DO NOT want to know, and seeing that guy’s arrogant smirk on television is just aggravating.
3.No more civilian Humvees in North America. As much as I applaud the excessive waste and consumption of our Western society, no one really needs an assault vehicle in North America, with the possible exception of the residents of Detroit.
4. Obama maybe, but PULEEEASE, not Hillary. I’m all for change, but Americans need a Democrat for whom we can vote. Just because she isn’t a boneheaded, right wing war-mongering freak, doesn’t mean she can’t screw things up worse than Baby Bush has.
5.The usual: world peace, no more hate crimes, no more bigotry, or hatred in general
6.Some kind of effective international system of monitoring and checking the poisonous by-products of religious fundamentalism. No matter whom you are, God is not telling you to murder each other.
7.Mandatory stun collars (set to “char”) for all bloodthirsty despots, especially the ones who use children to fight their wars
8.A more balanced trade deficit,
9.More global accountability for human rights violations
10.More food with less chemicals
11. A renewable source of energy which uses saltwater for fuel and leaves potable water as its by-product … then Al Gore can start whining about the shrinkage of our oceans.
12. A pay hike for all workers in Asia, India, and Indonesia; let’s even the playing field a bit.
13.A universal cap on all lawyers’ contingency fees
14.Face recognition software to monitor all airports and public places. The heck with our right to privacy … let’s get real; we lose that privilege as soon as we walk out the door of our house
15. More funding for medical R&D, a cure for all terminal illnesses, including AIDS, all forms of cancer, ALS, MS, FMS, Malaria, ADD, and the PTA
16. With reference to that last request, an altruistic drug company
17. Healthy national, or perhaps international debates on the subjects of euthanasia, abortion, and gay rights, not dictated by the boneheads of the religious far right
18. More movie remakes of 1970’s T.V. programs. We can’t have enough of those.
19. Less stupid people in government
20. Less stupid people in general
21. O.K., this one IS for me … more public officials and members of the media who can and do speak the King’s English.

And Santa, if you’re listening, get something nice for Mrs. Claus … maybe some make-up, or a paper bag to put over her head.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/30/07

Another U.S. Thanksgiving has come and gone. I loved seeing George Bush pardon a turkey. Who should be pardoning whom?! Thanksgiving has historically been my favorite holiday, and this year, to my great delight, dinner included only the immediate family. As is tradition, Shauna and I showed up in Buffalo around 3AM on the morning of Thanksgiving, and, as usual, when we walked into our room at the Holiday Inn, our room was unmade. The good news is that we were then upgraded to a better room on the top floor, which appealed to Jasper (because she now had higher vantage point from which to bark out the window). We turned in around 4AM and were then awakened at around 8AM to the yelling and screaming of crazy joggers, participating in the annual Buffalo “Turkey Trot”. As I whisked open the drapes, the first thing I saw was a group of joggers, dressed up like Pilgrims, trotting along in a tight formation and pushing a table with a mock turkey dinner down Delaware Avenue. It was all a bit surreal. I sleepily watched the thousands of joggers below stream by, many of them dressed in goofy costumes. When I took Jasper down for her morning constitutional, she barked at them all. That showed them … how dare all these people exhibit boundless energy, while I had none. Anyhow, I have much to be thankful for. Besides the fact that Shauna was able to attend this year, I was able to see my sister, brother-in-law, all my nephews and their wives, and we had my octogenarian mother and nonagenarian father at the dinner table with us. Family is everything.

At present, we are back in Toronto, but we have not unpacked, because we will soon be heading back up to Burk’s Falls. We understand from our builder that the roof trusses are up in the two front turrets and, as you can imagine, we are eager to see that roof go on. Hopefully, the roofer will begin work installing the steel roof next Monday. The most recent delay has been getting the spray foam insulation guys to do their work before the top deck of the roof goes on. Trying to get construction work done on time is difficult, because many of the best contractors are extremely busy. This Fall, the weather has been a factor as well. Now, with Christmas fast approaching, the push is on. Another delay to the “closing in” of the house, is that the first of two window shipments arrived the other day, damaged. We can now expect that replacement windows will likely not arrive until after the first of the year. Perhaps we will just tarp the whole house in and forget about windows and doors.

We are taking this time in Toronto to investigate some of the many options for plumbing fixtures. The other day, I was amused by something that Shauna and I noticed while we scoured the internet for the best buy on toilets. I couldn’t believe how many different models there are to choose from! We found toilets that cost up to $5000. That seems like a lot for a toilet, but then again, it’s more practical than jewelry. Toto (our front runner toilet at the moment) offers dozens of options, and each comes with a ridiculous name. Take for instance the “Carusoe”, the “Plymouth”, the “Soiree”, the Pacifica”, the “Guinevere”, the “Drake”, or the “Lloyd”. How does one come up with “Guinevere” as a model name for a toilet? Do they have toilets for all the different Knights of the Round Table? And how would you feel if your name was Lloyd? Do they offer a “Fred” or a “Charlie” Here’s a good name for a toilet: the “Evacua” or perhaps the “Plungemaster”? Why would someone name their toilets anyhow?

Now that we are almost into December, don’t get stressed. I spoke to Santa the other day, and he told me that plumbing fixtures are the gift that keeps on giving. If you’re stumped, buy the one you love a new toilet. May I suggest the “Evacua ” … available in mauve or lime green?
-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/19/07

It always seemed as if the goofy commercials for Christmas began shortly after the American Thanksgiving, but lately they are starting well before Halloween. Did you ever see the one where Santa rides a Norelco cordless shaver down a snow bank? I like the commercial wherein a giant M&M scares Santa so badly that he faints. I’m not sure traumatizing Santa is the best way to sell children’s candy, but it’s a funny commercial nonetheless. In the booming metropolis of Burk’s Falls, the Christmas lights are beginning to pop up around the neighborhood. One guy up the street shines two red floodlights on his house, and that’s it. You all know how I feel about people who don’t “go the extra mile” in their celebratory holiday decorations. Shining a red light on your house at Christmas time is a little like buying a plastic hatchet at Shoppers Humongous Warehouse for your Halloween costume … it’s a weak effort. If you’re going to do Christmas lights, there is an unwritten rule which states that there must be ladders, high voltage, and at least a modicum of danger involved. If the other lights in the neighborhood don’t dim when you plug yours in, something’s wrong. Final note in the Christmas front lawn decoration rant … There must have been a sale up here on white wire reindeer with electronically controlled bobbing heads, outlined with little white lights. Up one block from us there’s a whole herd of them, flanked by two giant plastic Santas. Now THAT’S a Christmas display. As soon as I can figure out how to affix it to the front lawn, I will install our giant, revolving, flashing pink neon Star of David. I hope nobody mistakes it for a pentagram.

We are settling in to our new home away from home quite nicely. Phil, our landlord, tarped in our carport the other day, so as to make it more like a garage. This project had mixed reviews, as the tarp has come loose and the tarp flaps noisily in the wind. It was a nice idea though. Phil is a nice guy. I have been building makeshift furniture for this place, as most of our furniture is either in Toronto, or tightly packed in a storage trailer on the jobsite. The other day I made a drafting table/ desk out of a cut off section of our tongue and groove roof decking, and we have various shelf units scattered around the place made from log ends. This house is beginning to look a lot like our apartment in Toronto has come to look: like a construction office, with plans scattered about and files boxes full of files covering everything from roof materials to floor manufacturers. What is ten times better about this winter than last winter, is that we actually have a forced hot air furnace. No more stoking the wood stove in an un-insulated cottage at 3AM.

Final note. I watched a segment on 60 Minutes on the “Millennials” a week ago, and it really riled me. Millennials are today’s twenty-somethings, who are now entering the workforce in droves. The gist of the story was that many of these coddled brats, used to being praised and pampered by everyone from their Boomer parents to their modern age teachers, expect Shangri-La in the workplace. If they don’t find it, they simply move on to the next job. Demand for their skills is so high that the employers are forced to kiss their spoiled little hineys, offering them games, playrooms, and various other incentives. There is even industry which has built up around catering to this generation of soft, over-praised Nintendo-heads. There are consultants, and playroom designers, and psychologists in feel-good workplace relations, etc. The workplace is being transformed into a daycare center! If these youngsters are leading us into the next century, heaven help us. They may be tech savvy, but I suspect that their capability to cope with the hosejob which is life will make them lambs for the slaughter as soon as the next “great unpleasantness” foists itself upon mankind. Here’s a wake up call to all you Millennials … learn how to say “Do you want fries with that?” in Chinese.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 11/5/07

Over the past weekend, Shauna and I moved out of the so-called “fifth wheel” camper trailer in which we have lived since May. I think Fate gave us a bit of a nudge, because shortly before we moved out, the furnace motor gave out and began to make a noise similar to fingernails across a blackboard whenever it was turned on. We were then reduced to two little ceramic space heaters, which were not particularly effective as the mercury dropped below zero. As well, one of our next door neighbors, who had so generously supplied us with a water source all summer long, closed up their cottage for the season, and along with it, our water supply. In the last week, I was carrying five gallon pails of water up from the lake, mixing them with anti-freeze in a garbage can, and then pumping the mixture into the camper in order to ensure that the pipes didn’t freeze. That in turn meant that we needed a separate supply of water with which to wash our hands and our dishes. I have a great deal more respect for those who live without the comforts I take for granted: electricity, running water, indoor plumbing, etc. There is no better way to appreciate how much water one uses than to be required to carry it by hand from some distance (in my case only about 200 yards). For so many people in the world, running water is a luxury.

Our new home away from home is a bungalow in nearby Burk's Falls. We have rented it on a month to month basis from a guy named Phil, whose wife recently passed away. Phil and his wife had lived out on nearby Three Mile Lake, and when she passed, he purchased this little bungalow in town, because it was closer to his friends. Fortunately for us, Phil has not yet sold his home on the lake, and the timing was right for us to rent it short term, until our home is finished. More and more, that finish date is looking like early Spring. Phil is an older guy – I think he’s over eighty -- but the other day, he helped me move some of his furniture into this bungalow, and he’s as strong as an ox. During the weekend I got to meet some of his friends, and I must say the country codgers up here are tough as nails. Anyhow the new digs are just fine, and allow us to remain close to our building site. Because water had to be rationed in the camper, showers were infrequent and necessarily short. I took the longest shower I have ever taken in my life as soon as we moved into the bungalow. As I write this, Shauna is doing the same.

One final comment about our new residence ... Shauna and I have never lived in a “neighborhood” together. Since we have been married we’ve lived in the relative anonymity of a high rise apartment. Even the job site we were on is comparatively secluded, and our neighbors there are spread out. Now, we look out the window, and we have a lot of neighbors. Most notably, across the street we see two rather strange families in a duplex. We have become somewhat pre-occupied with what I like to call “Kravitzing”. For all you “Bewitched” fans, this term should be self-explanatory, and for those of you who are not, well, let’s just say we are nosy, bordering on obsessively so. I think we’ve been locked up so long we may have lost our minds. We’ve been watching the duplex people carefully and have decided (for no good reason) that they are up to no good. I think it they might be running a meth lab; or, at the very least, a grow-op. In Toronto we used to live across the hall from a crazy German drug dealer. I used to see him down at my bank depositing suitcases full of cash, and he was quite a nuisance, until Manulife finally kicked him out. He sabotaged his apartment when he left, and even tore out the kitchen cabinets. I suppose one kind of expects that sort of thing in a big city like Toronto, but Burk’s Falls?! I will be keeping and eye on these duplex people. Thank goodness we have Jasper for protection.

Hurricane Noel just walloped Nova Scotia. Hillary Clinton is falling prey to the Democratic front runner curse, the Canadian dollar is worth $1.07 U.S., and I live across the street from potential (given my twisted imagination) drug dealers. Maybe the sky IS falling.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/29/07

A pre-emptive Happy Halloween to all of my readers. As often happens these days, I lost track of time, but I was quickly reminded of the season last Saturday when I walked into a Shoppers Humongous Drug Warehouse in Huntsville. There, in the seasonal “crap-you-don’t-really-need” aisle, was a young couple, presumably on their way to a costume party, rather poorly dressed up to look like vampires (I would have taken a little more care and pride in my application of white face makeup and fake blood) inspecting plastic hatchets. I overheard the guy say to the girl “I’m not f-ing paying ten bucks for a fake hatchet!” My opinion is that anyone who goes to Shoppers Humongous Drug Warehouse for their Halloween costume needs isn’t trying hard enough. One of my favorite costumes, which I saw in a bar once in Buffalo, was a guy dressed up to look like the San Francisco earthquake. He had the Trans America building jutting out of his midriff. Some people just “get” Halloween, and some don’t. I’ve been out of the Halloween loop for quite some time, but I’m thinking of getting back into it next year. I made a tiny step back into the ring this year; I bought a pumpkin.

I have reached that age when my doctor recommended that I have a colonoscopy. Colonoscopies are sort of mile markers for middle age. Of course, I am thrilled about this. I made an appointment to have the test done by a Toronto specialist, and I was immediately put off by the guy’s receptionist. I don’t need to love to person who books my colonoscopy, but this woman was like a drill sergeant. She immediately began to bark orders about how I will “prep” for the test, and how severely I will be penalized for failure to comply with her strict rules. Anyhow, I booked the test, and shortly thereafter, I received an email from this unpleasant woman, with a three-page list of preparatory instructions. I was to begin cleaning myself out Monday morning, for a test on Wednesday! On Monday, clear fluids only and in the afternoon, my first glass of human Drain-O. Tuesday, some Roto Rooter, more clear fluids, and to top off the day, a nightcap of Citromag. Then, on “game day” I was to give myself an enema an hour before the kickoff, presumably just before I purged myself of my intestines. The whole thing seemed a little harsh, and, the other day, I cancelled that appointment. I have elected to have the test up in Huntsville, and as it turns out, the specialist up here is considerably more reasonable about the pre-test regimen. I might only be miserable for 24 hours instead of three days. My father had a photograph taken of his colon years ago. I use it for a bookmark. Kind of looks like the Holland tunnel, decorated by Cristo.

I’ve got a great idea for a Halloween costume. It may be bit of a challenge, but I have a year to work out the details. I’m going to dress up as my sparkling clean colon. It’s amazing what you can do with latex these days. It will need only to meet my one rule for a Halloween costume: I must be able to drink beer comfortably without removing anything.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/22/07

There should be an award for the funniest name of a pro athlete. My mother-in-law, who is a big baseball fan (who, sadly, was rooting for Cleveland), called the other night in hysterics over the names of three major league baseball players: Asdrubal Cabrera, Yorbit Torrealba , and Chone Figgett. What do you want to bet that Asdrubal got a few wedgies in grade school? I was watching a Toronto Marlies game the other night (farm team for the hapless Leafs). They were playing the Lake Erie Monsters (who came up with that name?), and I’m not sure which team it was, but one player had a name so long it went from the bottom of one shoulder pad to the bottom of the other. It was unreadable, because the folds in the jersey hid several letters. Back in the Sixties or Seventies, I think the Buffalo Bills had a player named Preston Riddlehooper.

Shauna and I have been watching a lot of HGTV, and for those of you unfamiliar with the channel, that is one of a myriad of home improvement channels available on satellite and cable television. There are three or four shows I like the most, but in general, it’s a good channel to watch when you’re in the process of building a home. The show we watch the most is called “Holmes on Homes” and consists of a general contractor by the name of Mike Holmes, who goes in to people’s homes to repair failed construction jobs. The show is pretty much the same each week; Holmes comes in and interviews the featured homeowner, who has had some shoddy work done, then proceeds to repair the defective job, all the while grumbling and ranting about disreputable contractors. Sometimes the problem presents as a leak in the ceiling, sometimes it’s a sagging roof, but one thing is for certain. In every show, what appeared to be a minor problem turns out to be something much more serious. The leak in the ceiling turns out to be a major fault in a shower installation, which has caused major structural damage. While investigating the sagging roof, Holmes discovers improperly installed joists, illegal electrical installations, improperly installed insulation, which in turn bred toxic mold, etc. In almost every show, he finds repairs or new construction which does not conform to the local building code. Another show we quite like is called “Restaurant Makeover”. In that show a guest chef and designer turn a failing restaurant around in six days, for around $30,000. The best part about that show is watching the designer fight with the general contractor. Inevitably, no one shares or understands the designer’s vision for the interior design, and no one is shy about offering an opinion. I love watching designers throw hissy fits. Another show that I like is called “Junk Brothers” and involves two brothers who drive around and pick up other people’s discarded junk at the curbside, take it back to their shop, convert it into some unusual alternative piece of furniture or equipment, then return it to the people who threw it out. The thing I enjoy most about these shows is the same thing I like about many cooking shows. We the viewers are walked through the process and get to see how all this work is done. Of course, we’ve been fortunate enough to watch the process firsthand for the past several months.

Though rain was predicted for much of last week, our workers were able to put in almost a full week, and quite a few logs went up, most notably the ridge purlins (the logs that make up the peak of the roof). One of our subs suggested that, once the roof is on, perhaps we might want to go home for a while, to retrieve our sanity. When the electricians, the carpenters, the plumbers, the HVAC guys, AND the kitchen people are all here bumping into each other, it might get a little crazy. Perhaps we’d do well to disappear for a while; I’m sure they’d all prefer it!
-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/15/07

Last Monday, we investigated an alternative dwelling to the RV in which we presently reside, perched above our job site. We’ve been living here since mid May, and we owe our builder a big debt of gratitude for providing us with this opportunity to be on the construction site, 24/7. That said, the weather is changing, winter is coming, and this RV is not properly set up for cold weather. Water lines can freeze, and the little propane furnace is firing up more and more frequently. One frosty night last week the propane supply ran out (this particular RV has two 30 gallon tanks), and I woke up in the middle of the night because the temperature in the RV had dropped to about 52 degrees F. As well, the RV holding tank must be emptied on a regular basis, we do not have a clean water supply, so water must be rationed, and the bathroom is VERY small. These limitations are much more acceptable when the temperature is seasonal, but become exponentially more inconvenient once the mercury drops below say, 50 Degrees F. In any event, we would have needed to vacate by December, and the house will not likely be completed until February (hah!) at the very earliest. That said, we have located a bungalow for rent in beautiful Burks Falls, and that will be our home away from home come November. Believe me, it will seem like the Hilton compared to the camper.

Ontario re-elected their incumbent premier, Liberal Dalton McGinty, who weaseled his way into office the first time with a myriad of broken promises. I’m not entirely clear on why, having proven himself to be a run-of-the-mill bureaucrat, he once again pulled off a win in Ontario, but then again, I’ve never understood Ontario voters. It was Ontarians who, back in the 80’s voted in that “New Democrat” (give-the-candy-store-away socialist) Bob Rae. Rae is apparently a bright guy, but was perhaps the most deleterious Premier ever to lead Ontario. On his watch, and some would argue, due to his policies, Ontario’s booming economy tanked. I understand that Rae was voted in largely because Ontarians were annoyed with the previous administration. Apparently, the hot button issue that sunk John Tory, McGinty’s Conservative opponent in last week’s election, was faith based funding for schools. Tory committed political suicide by opposing said funding, which, I understand, primarily, if not exclusively, benefits Catholic schools. Guess where McGimpy’s kid goes to school? Canadian politics are so boring. South of the border, it’s a different story. As I write this, U.S. Senator Larry Craig is explaining to Matt Lauer why he was playing “Twister” in an airport bathroom. That’s what I call “hard” news. I never knew that a person could get busted for playing footsie in a public bathroom. Apparently, not all the vice squad policemen are looking for coke dealers or child pornography purveyors; some of them are running sting operations in airport bathrooms. … pull your pants up sir; hands where I can see em!

The roof purlins are almost all up, and last week the steel roof was delivered. I’ll feel a lot more secure when the roof is on. Winter’s coming, and the race is on.
-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 10/1/07

My dad is in the hospital right now, after a rather serious bout of congestive heart failure. A couple of weeks ago, he whooped it up for my mom’s birthday and woke up the next morning gasping for breath. I’ve been talking to him on the phone every day, but I knew I had to drive down to see him in person. I didn’t like the idea very much, but reluctantly, last Wednesday, I left Shauna and Jasper alone in the RV and drove down to Buffalo. They were alone in the camper for three days and two nights. That was the first time I had ever left Shauna alone up North and, while I tried to make sure she’d have everything she needed, it was still tough to leave her. I figured I’d go down midweek so she’d at least have the workers here for company during the day. Apparently, they teased her a bit about how dangerous it is for a woman to be living alone “in the bush” …with all them dangerous critters and whatnot. Very funny … no more employee appreciation barbecues for those guys.

When I arrived in Buffalo on Wednesday afternoon, I found my father in fair condition at the hospital. He was by then in a rehabilitation wing, building up his strength so that he could return home. He improved noticeably during my stay, but probably not because of it. I simply visited him a few times, sorted out and paid some of his bills, and dealt with some of the ever-escalating issues of geriatric health care. This is a strange time for me because, like many of my peers, I am watching my parents grow old, and I am somewhat confused, now that our roles have reversed. While I am very happy that they are still around, I wrestle with my feelings of responsibility and my inclination to watch out for them, while living my somewhat complicated life at a distance. I left Buffalo last Friday with ambivalent feelings. On the one hand, I was relieved to find both of my parents in pretty good shape, relatively speaking, with better than average health care coverage, good nursing care, etc. On the other hand, I foresee imminent problems which might crop up in my absence, and which I will have little or no ability to resolve from a distance.

From longevity to a flash in the pan … tabloid train wreck Britney Spears lost custody of her two young children this week. If you ever had any doubts about the pitfalls of celebrity, just catch a few minutes of her notoriously bad performance at some recent music awards ceremony. Clearly, money ain’t everything.

As I watch the U.S. presidential primaries unfold, I am following the Republican race with some interest. Rudy Guiliani seems to be one of the front runners, but only because he so diametrically opposes the religious conservatism of the past two Republican administrations. I heard him say the other day that he is the best Republican opponent to Billary, whom he obviously sees as the Democratic front-runner. Careful Rudy, don’t underestimate Rock Star Obama. Obama is shrewdly referring to Billary as a successor in the Clinton “dynasty” and, in so doing, has cleverly linked the Clintons to the failed Bush “dynasty”. His message: America has had enough of dynasties. In other words, Bush dynasty equals Clinton dynasty, equals bad politics. Twisted logic, but smart politics.
Frankly, I think the Democrats could put up Charles Manson and still win this one.

Get better Dad, I love you!

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 8/27/07

Our social life this summer has consisted largely of talking to the people working on our house and, while that is certainly more stimulating than, say, an isolation cell in a maximum security prison, it is hardly a night out in the theatre district. As well, these people work for us, so there is the remote possibility that they are more likely to treat us differently than would our friends. Last week, we had a visit from one of my oldest and dearest friends, Bob. He and his wife Laura were up in the area picking up his daughter from camp in a nearby park, and they all stopped in to catch a glimpse of the new house. A few weeks ago, another good friend and his family visited for a few days, and these visits were much-needed breaths of fresh air. I’m not saying I don’t love my wife, I adore her, but three months in a small RV, with a bathroom the size of a phone booth, has been a bit trying for both of us. To boot, Jasper always steals the best chair.

I’m sure that many of you reading this report are thinking to yourselves, “what a cakewalk … they’re living in a beautiful area, for an entire summer, and they have the unique opportunity to watch their house being built!?” While this is true, let me explain why this project is not a walk in the park.

Our day begins about 6:45 AM, when Jasper barks frantically at the first trucks arriving. By 7:15AM, the chainsaws and hammering begin and by 8:30AM, we are on the phone or the web, researching everything from bathroom fixtures to floor coverings. Shauna leaves nothing to chance and researches every finish and design option. As well, we are personally designing our railings, bathroom cabinets and sinks, fireplace surrounds, ceiling treatments etc. All of this requires a lot of time. We go through a pad of graph paper per week. By 10AM the phone is ringing off the hook, the contractors are dropping in to ask for alternatives to an electrical outlet location, or one of a hundred other design glitches which present themselves on an ongoing basis. Because this is a custom design, one the log supplier has never before created, there are little surprises at every turn. For instance, last week, we learned that a frame wall dividing our master bathroom from our bedroom had inadvertently been placed in such a way as to hide an important log feature of the bedroom. No change can be made without consulting all (electrical, plumbing, structural) plans which could be affected by the change. I’m sure the builder could have made a decision without us, but very possibly it would not have been what we chose to do. A log home owner whom we interviewed early on in the process told us that building a log home is an organic process. Things can change in the design as the home goes up, but timing is everything. In truth, the home continues to “grow” and develop long after it is up. While many people leave all the decisions to their builders, we are heavily invested (emotionally and otherwise) in this house. For better or worse, when the home is finished, we will know that we were actively involved in its creation from beginning to end.

You won’t believe how we plan to use the Guelph wood stove from the old cottage.
-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Me with shop truss under construction

New truss on shop

The Oppenheimer Report 7/31/07

When we first contemplated the building project in which we now find ourselves immersed, we realized that we needed more land if we were to achieve our goal. When my father-in-law bought the property, back in the 1960’s, the lot size was only about 6000 square feet, with little or no actual water frontage. Our original cottage stood on a small, pie-shaped parcel of land, and the way the house was positioned on the lot, the Taylors only owned about ten feet of land off their back door. Over the years, my father-in-law managed to acquire from the town what was known as the shoreline allowance, providing him with water frontage and bringing the lot size up to about one half acre. To make a very long story short, after three years of meetings with the Township of Armour, to close a road allowance abutting our property to the rear, and after much negotiation with our ever patient next door neighbors to swap land involved with that road allowance, including over a year of dealings with surveyors, lawyers, accountants, planners, marriage counselors, psychiatrists, witch doctors, etc., we acquired the additional land we wanted. The land swap was mutually beneficial, because we increased our lot size to conform with new town guidelines for minimum lot size, and in turn, our neighbors acquired a good deal of valuable water frontage to improve their lot. As any cottage real estate expert will tell you, water frontage is gold. Although the actual land acquisition and site plans were approved by the town months ago, the final recording of the deeds did not take place until several weeks ago.

When the transfer was finally a matter of public record, Shauna and I invited the neighbors, with whom we’d exchanged land, over to enjoy a celebratory glass of champagne out on our dock. It wasn’t a very fancy celebration - all our patio furniture is stashed away somewhere on this log-littered lot – and we used log ends for seats and a table. Champagne was served in plastic cups, and hors d’ouevres consisted of a bag of corn chips and some smoked oysters and cheese and crackers provided by the neighbors. The mood was congenial and we had a very pleasant time with our new found friends. As the sun began to set, and we were about to return to the claustrophobic confines of our trailer to make our dinner, we noticed a man and a woman on a jet ski, circling around in the lake in front of our place, presumably inspecting our unfinished home. We’re fairly used to curious onlookers at this point, because a log home under construction is really something to behold. Most folks in boats wave, and we wave back. These people were likely not from around here … perhaps they came from the nearby trailer park, or perhaps from the public beach. Not only did they not wave, but as they zoomed off, we all heard the man scream “F-CKING RICH SNOBS!!!!” And YOU have a nice day as well! The obvious lack of respect represented by this unprovoked and boorish comment was a reminder that settling in a small town is no guarantee that one will or can avoid mean-spirited people. That nasty comment reminded me of the big-city ugliness from which we are trying to extricate ourselves. Whether the comment was inspired by beer, or envy, or unfair judgment, or latent road rage rearing its ugly head at an inopportune moment, or a combination of all of these things; it was decidedly bad karma, and it was upsetting to all of us.

They say that karma is a bitch, and I believe that there is yin and yang to every action, Perhaps nothing that we do is absent the judgment of someone else who does not understand us or our actions. If I have learned anything in my 51 years, it is that there will always be someone out there to rain on my parade. I suppose I grudgingly accept this fact, and I’ll eventually shrug off this minor example of human ugliness. Nevertheless, it’s sad fact that, in some microcosmic way, just such a misunderstanding probably accounts for three quarters of the aggression in the world. Now, I find myself diffusing my anger with my imagination. I comfort myself by picturing, somewhere out in the middle of the big lake, night closing in and the warmth of the summer sun replaced by the cold, damp chill of the Northern Ontario night, that man and that woman, out of gas and helplessly adrift on their jet ski, unassisted by the throngs of otherwise friendly “f-cking rich snobs” … and I raise my plastic cup full of champagne to toast their well-deserved misfortune.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Log Home Photos up to 7/27/07

Second floor almost completely stacked. First floor with first coat of stain...Next week the final shipment of logs, and hopefully the commencement of the roof system.

Log Home Photos up to 7/27/07

The staining begins.

The view from our loft

"Taylor Trash"

See what YOU look like after two months of living in a small trailer!

More Log Home Photos 7/27/07

Second floor looking towards master bedroom

Photos (cont.) 7/27/07

Looking from rear of the house at the dining room and living room (to left)

Log Home Photos up to 7/27/07

The carport is begun

The OppenheimerReport

I was watching the Discovery Channel the other night, because I am a learning machine, and the show I watched was called “101 Things Removed.” It dealt with various objects doctors have extracted from human bodies. The stories of how the accidents occurred were fascinating, but the actual pictures were pretty grizzly. Among my favorites: an anchor embedded in a skull of a fisherman, a frog skewer through the cheekbone and eye canal of a frog hunter, a diamond necklace extracted from a jewel thief’s anus, a swordfish snout shoved through the skull above the left eye of a fisherman, a two by four through the neck of a tornado victim, a live grenade embedded in a soldier’s leg, an ice axe embedded in the leg of a mountain climber, and the piece de resistance: the calcified remains of a twin fetus removed from a man’s stomach. That might have been the strangest thing I have ever seen. What a nice change over what has been an almost steady diet of log home magazines and HGTV shows about unscrupulous contractors.

“Harry Potter and the Unbearable Flatulence” went on sale this week, and millions of hopeful readers are frothing in anticipation of this last installment of the wildly popular series. It never ceases to amaze me that there are groups of concerned citizens out there campaigning to ban the Harry Potter books because of references to wizardry and black magic. Let’s throw Mother Goose on the bonfire while we’re at it. Heaven forbid children should be inspired to read. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been noticing a substantial drop in communication skills among the 20somethings, and I think any literature which inspires kids to read is a good thing. I actually heard a guy say that he had been “conversating” with someone the other day. Forget the King’s English; we’re down to the court jester’s English. By the way, if you don’t feel like reading the book, I’ll tell you how it ends … Harry dies in a tragic methane explosion.

If any of you are still reading this “report” you may have reached the saturation point in discussions about our log home. As we spend almost every waking hour on this construction site, we may be reaching the saturation point as well. After the past week, we’ve reached that point in the building process where it seems as if we are pushing a rock up a hill. There have been a lot of unforeseen setbacks, and construction is far behind schedule. Two weeks ago, our stackers discovered that three critical logs were absent from the last load of logs, and this little setback held up the entire building process for almost a week. Unlike stick frame houses, wherein any 2x4 will do, logs must be stacked in sequence. We may begin to get back on schedule this week, if the rain abates. Weather has been the other deterrent, and we’ve had very unusual weather for the past two weeks. I may just post some photos next week of the progress to date, and skip the editorializing. Conversate amongst yourselves.
-Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 7/2/07

A belated happy Canada Day to all my Canuckian pals, and a pre-emptive Happy Fourth to my Yankee friends. Every Fourth of July, I reminisce about the sweet old lady who used to sell illegal fireworks to us Buffalonians out of the back of her old pick up truck. She’d blow into town shortly before the Fourth and, like some rare seasonal wine, her wares were only available for a few precious hours, and only around the Fourth. For anyone who was serious about getting the most bang for their buck, she was the person to see. She really was quite adorable, wearing her asbestos drag racing hood. I remember the good old days when M-80’s were genuine, construction-grade M-80’s, and not just “poser” M-80’s, sold by opportunistic vendors out to fool the general public. Now you need a license to blow your fingers off. Our dogs hate the Fourth, and more than once, we had to pry one out from under the bed, when the cacophony of explosives became too much for her ears.

In anticipation of Canada Day, last Thursday, Dale, our crane operator, affixed a Canadian flag atop the 135 foot crane presently situated on our property. There were plenty of Canadian flags flying on the lake this past weekend, but I doubt any of them are as prominent as ours. I wanted to hoist a Jolly Roger as well, but I suppose that would have sent the wrong message.

Summer’s just flying by, and it’s been crazy weather up here in the Great White North. Last week it was hot enough to fry an egg on the hood of my car, and this weekend it was as cold and rainy as a typical Fall day. Fun fact: did you know there was a heat wave in Canada back in 1936 which lasted a little under two weeks and caused almost 1200 fatalities? Back then, 1200 people was about the population of Saskatchewan, so you can see that this was a no small catastrophe. I feel bad for all the city dwellers who, having endured the sweltering heat and humidity of Toronto all week, raced up to cottage country for their weekend of sun and fun, only to be greeted by rain and cold weather. Saturday was one of those crazy days wherein it rained every twenty minutes or so, but in between rainy spells, the clouds would part and the sun would shine, just long enough to fool everybody into thinking the bad weather had passed. Nature certainly can be a mother sometimes. Does anyone else remember that summer, back in the Eighties, after Mount Pinatubo erupted and spewed ash into the air, affecting weather patterns around the globe? During almost that entire summer, there was a cycle of bad weather wherein it would be beautiful all week, then around 5PM on Friday it would cloud up, only to remain miserable until dusk on Sunday. It was like clockwork, and a real ball buster for the weekend warriors.

The other day, while we were giving Jasper her bi-weekly ear plucking, suddenly we heard a loud crash outside. When we looked out, we saw that our propane-fired Skeeter-Vac had been tipped over, and there, amidst the scattered garbage in front of the RV was a small black bear licking an empty can of pop. Now I’m beginning to wonder if some of the mess we’ve attributed to the raccoon gangs (see recent report), were actually the signs of this little bear. Because the food supply is scarce right now, and the bears are hungry, they are becoming more “resourceful” in their foraging. So far this summer, there have been more bear sightings than usual up here in cottage country, and cottagers would do well to be vigilant. While black bears are usually not aggressive, we know of one incident in the past week where a problem black bear got into a friend’s house. The bear charged, and the residents ended up taking refuge in their car. That bear even chased them up their driveway as they drove off. Never a dull moment up here in cottage country! - Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 6/27/07

Transporting logs from British Columbia is not without its share of complications. The most recent delay was a quality control problem from at the log supplier, requiring that their plant be shut down for several days while they addressed the problem. As well, last week, our log load number four was supposed to arrive in Katrine, Ontario, but there was yet another problem with transport. On its way to pick up our load of logs in Kamloops, B.C., our truck hit a bear, ripping off its fuel tank and severely damaging the vehicle. You should have seen the bear. Because that was the only truck available for our load out west, our logs will not even begin their journey East until the middle of this week ... just before a big long weekend. I think it is optimistic to assume that those logs will show up on Friday as scheduled, because the highways will be jammed with Canada Day and Fourth of July holiday travelers… not to mention the inevitable road construction delays.

Last Friday was a momentous day, as we watched two large sections of the first floor ceiling laid down on the log floor joists. The builder had already stained the tongue and groove ceiling before it was laid down, so we were able to see for the first time how the stain we’d chosen will look on the house. As with any color choice, it’s impossible to make a determination based on a small color chip. Until one sees it on a wall or ceiling, one is never really sure. I’m happy with our choice.

As I write this, the first vertical logs on the lake side of the house are being fastened to the wall. This procedure was not without its own complications, and some adjustments were required to ensure a proper fit. Someone with whom we recently spoke was astounded that this project will take 8-10 months to complete, but having observed the first 35+ days, I can easily see why it will take that long. Our builder explained that log homes are the most difficult to build, because every round log, no matter how straight and true, is a little different. Field cuts and adjustments are often required, and add considerably to the time required for stacking. I’ve watched many high rises going up in Toronto and, in my 25 year career in industrial real estate, I’ve seen quite a lot of construction. I don’t think I have ever been so interested in the construction process as I have been with this house. Granted I am not a disinterested party, but log home construction is fascinating to watch.

I flipped on the tube last night and was amused by the nonstop media pre-occupation with Paris Hilton’s release from prison (after what, 23 days?!). Will she go out and party on the town right away, or spend an intimate first night of freedom, alone with her immediate family, gorging on cupcakes and champagne? Yikes!I’m sure that every generation has had its share of celebrity nonsense over which to obsess, but the cameras and the coverage seem to be growing like weeds. How about a little hard news, like the growing Republican opposition to the war in Iraq, or the increasing likelihood that Hillary Clinton could be our next President? And what happened to Rock Star Obama … I figured an endorsement by Oprah was money in the bank? I guess one needs to be careful about admitting to past drug use. It’s difficult to say you “didn’t inhale” when the drug was cocaine. – Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 6/4/07 - Happy 97th Dad!

Today is my dad’s 97th birthday and I will start this report by wishing him a happy, healthy birthday. My dad has a disarming sense of humor, and that humor hasn’t failed him well into his nineties. We took him out for dinner to a fancy wood oven pizza place last year for his 96th, and he ordered a pizza with fresh basil as one of the toppings. When the pizza came, it was piled high with fresh green basil, and he said to the waitress who served him, with his typical dry sense of humor, “I ordered a pizza, not a G-D salad!” He’s slowing down a bit, but he’s still pretty sharp, and he can still make me laugh.

On the log home front, we have had a few minor setbacks. There was a potentially serious, (but luckily not serious) mishap off-loading the second shipment of logs, we noticed some mysterious black marks on some of the logs (traced back to a Bobcat loader in B.C.) which will need to be removed, and a downed telephone line, caused by a piece of construction equipment, cut off service to our next door neighbor for about a day. Hopefully, last week was just a speed bump, but I’m guessing there will be many more surprises in store for us. Building a custom log home is not for the faint of heart, and Shauna and I have had to make some quick and irreversible decisions. We spent a good deal of our anniversary last week on the first floor of our new home, with the builder’s designer, in the hot sun, resizing many of the first floor windows. What looked adequate on the plans needed adjustment once we saw the house going up. Log homes require much larger cuts, or “rough openings”, for windows than do stick frame homes, and therein lies the problem. We thought we were being clear about how large we wanted our windows to be, but something got lost in the translation. Our builder would likely have avoided this problem, had he known about it before we finished designing the home. Unfortunately, we hired him after the house was designed, and after our first builder dropped the ball. Another complication in log home construction is that all electrical outlets and switches need to be pre-drilled for wire. Once the logs are stacked, there is no turning back. As of this week, the first floor logs are almost completely stacked, and some of the vertical logs will begin to go up soon… that is, if weather permits. As I write this, our jobsite is a quagmire of sand and mud, and at present, the temperature is hovering around 40 degrees F. The temperature dropped almost 50 degrees in one night and there have been frost warnings for Southern Ontario.

About our trailer … It includes most of the comforts of home, and we have our builder to thank for allowing us to remain on site for much of the construction process. We are still on generator power, and our water supply is a stream near the trailer, from which we pump water into a holding tank. That needs to be filled every three or four days. As well, we are beginning to become accustomed to the periodic stench which occurs whenever our sewage holding tank is pumped out. The first time this happened was a rude awakening. Now, whenever the pump truck shows up, Shauna and I scamper out of the trailer like a couple of roaches avoiding Raid. Living here is decidedly more taxing on Shauna than it is on me, but the trade off is well worth it – we are able to watch our new home take shape.
- Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED