The Oppenheimer Report

Tuesday, June 25, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 6/24/19

Flock Of Seagulls

Is it just me or has anyone else noticed that escapism seems to be overtaking the film industry? A while back, perhaps during the last Oscars, I remarked that I was tired of all the emphasis Hollywood was placing upon superhero movies, and fantasy movies in general. Yes, I have an imagination, and I enjoy a good fantasy film, but there are so many interesting, real, and new stories to tell. I also suggested that the reason those big budget Marvel movies and Game-Of-Thrones-style fantasies are so popular, especially now, is because there is heightened trepidation about the state of the real world. Donald The Imbecile, as I have newly crowned him, routinely flirts with international disaster, and American politics has begun to resemble the World Wrestling Federation. Vision, creativity, and leadership are sorely lacking, and this is reflected in the music to which we listen.

Billy Macpherson, a musician friend with whom I recently sang a duet in the Hunters Bay Radio fundraiser event at Huntsville’s Algonquin Theatre, gave me an interesting article to read the other day. It was written by singer-song writer/ playwright Ian Tamblyn, and in it, he traces the gradual decline of popular music as a valued art form. The gist of the article is that the digitalization of music has facilitated that decline. Once an expensive venture, largely controlled by big record companies, the recording and promotion of music had become much easier and cheaper with the emergence of digital recording. Gradually, a new generation of listeners, raised in the digital age, came to believe that they shouldn’t have to pay for recorded music. Why buy the cow when the milk is free? No longer are fans buying (or listening) to entire albums of music. Now they buy, or download for free, only the songs they choose. While the field of talented artists continues to grow exponentially, the rewards for being creative and talented are getting harder to reap. I realize this sounds like Jamie the fuddy-duddy, ranting about the “music these days”. I confess I am a little grumpy today. Still, I think that there are more young people these days listening to the music my generation likes than there were young people from my generation, listening to the music our parents liked. By the way, I’m not saying I don’t like Hip Hop or Rap – there is a sub-culture of those two genres about which I am learning and have come to respect and appreciate – I’m talking about what is being played as pop music on commercial radio today.

This week, I decided to broadcast another all request theme show, and I put up a post on Facebook asking for weird, bizarre, goofy, bubble-gummy, and otherwise unusual pop songs that my listeners remember from their past. In my opinion, even the terrible novelty songs from the distant past seem pretty good to me, when compared to the soul-sucking auto-tuned, synthesized sameness of much of today’s pop music. It all goes back to what I suggested at the beginning of this report. In my opinion, imagination is on injured reserve. In the five hours after asking for quirky pop songs, I had 43 responses. Typically, I will receive somewhere between 60 and 100 song suggestions in the month leading up to one of these theme-based all-request shows with a theme, but there may be more for this one. Next month on Lyrical Workers, I will place emphasis on Canadian pop music. I fully expect to get some imaginative selections suggested by my listeners. They have not let me down so far. I know that I will have a lot of fun putting that show together. Yes, of course Yummy, Yummy, Yummy by Ohio Express will be on the playlist. It’s one of my favorites! What is YOUR goofy pop tune choice??

Jamie Oppenheimer, Songwriter, Author, Blogger, Radio Producer, & Host has been writing THE OPPENHEIMER REPORT every MONDAY since 1992 and has published the articles on his blog since 2006. We are including Jamie's weekly reports, as a new feature of #HuntersBayRadio, The Bay 88.7FM.
#GotLocal? HuntersBayRadio.com #WeAreMuskoka #WeAreAlmaguin

Monday, June 17, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 6/17/19

Another Father’s Day has come and gone, and I am always reminded of my dad when the day rolls around. If you have a good dad, I hope you appreciate or appreciated him, not just on Father’s Day, but every day he is alive. Anyone who has been reading this report for a while knows that I have great love and respect for my departed parents. Sometimes, when I’m out and about, and I see a boomer caring for his or her elderly parent, I am reminded of some of the challenges my family faced when my parents got old. Both my mom and dad lived well into their 90s, and I might have been one of the first of my circle of friends to face those challenges. There were some difficult times. Someone once suggested to me that that the most horrible thing for an elder to experience is the loss of their ability to think and reason. I’m not sure I agree. My mom was in a state of advanced Lewy Body dementia for almost five years before she passed. While caring for her was complicated and challenging, I think her deterioration was harder on her loved ones and her caregivers than it was on her. She and my then nonagenarian dad spent their last years at home, accompanied by round the clock caregivers. I think all of it was harder on my father, because was relatively clear-headed until he passed at 98. A fiercely independent man, he had difficulty coping with the loss of his dignity, and the gradual erosion of his quality of life. As our elderly population grows, and more of my peers are facing the challenges of caring for their elderly parents, it’s easy for both the children and the parent to lose perspective. The Golden Years are not always so golden.

I remember sitting with my dad at his bedside one night, shortly before he passed on, and he told me he felt as if he had no purpose. He wanted to die. I am sure other children have had this experience with their elder parents, but I did not know what to do with that information. Dad had lost his perspective on what he had achieved in his life, and how much his life had positively impacted others. The next morning, I wrote him a long letter, and in it I pointed out some of the things he’d forgotten about his numerous achievements in life. It didn’t matter if he could no longer balance a check book, or to change the furnace filters by himself. He had done a lot of wonderful, unselfish things, and he’d been a great dad. I just wanted him to know that his son respected him and loved him for the good man he had so consistently been. Old age can be an emotional mine field, and it might be the hardest mental challenge I have ever encountered. If it was hard on me, I cannot imagine what it was like for my dad. I guess this is all a long-winded way of saying, if you have (had) good parents be thankful. My parents weren’t perfect, no parents are, but they taught me the meaning of love, and no matter what happens to me now, I am armed with the best defense I could ever hope to have.

Last Thursday night was notable for several reasons. First, we held a very successful, well-attended HBR fundraiser concert at the Algonquin Theatre in Huntsville, wherein over thirty local musicians, organized by our talented fearless leader Sean Cotton, re-created the legendary Joe Cocker’s Mad Dogs & Englishmen concert. After a high energy show, we all headed over to the Huntsville Brewhouse to watch the Raptors beat the Golden State Warriors for their first ever NBA championship in Raptors history. What a thrill it was to watch this historic event with an enthusiastic crowd in a bar! As I write this, Shauna and I are watching the Raptors victory parade presently creeping towards Toronto’s City Hall. There are reportedly over 2 Million people celebrating in and around Nathan Phillips Square, and this may be one of Canada’s proudest moments in a long time. I’m happy for Toronto fans, and delighted to see the country celebrating so happily.

Monday, June 10, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 6/10/19

Let there be no mistake, I am not a fan of basketball. In fact, I’ve lost much of my limited interest in professional sports. I was once a big fan of the Buffalo Sabres, and for about 20 years, beginning with the inception of the franchise, my family held seasons tickets and attended all Sabres home games. They broke my heart hundreds of times, but I remained a loyal fan for a long time. Then, in '94, when I got married and moved to Toronto, I gradually got sucked into the Toronto Maple Leafs vortex of doom. The Leafs were the nail in the coffin for me. I have always maintained the opinion that professional sports are over-rated. While the athletes are often remarkably talented, the obscene amounts of money involved spoil everything for me. Lately I have lost interest in most professional sports, developing the same disdain that I have for overpaid pop musicians, and celebrities in general. I feel, especially here in North America, much too much emphasis is placed upon the ones who earn the most money. I concede that they are paid enormous salaries because they attract large audiences and earn money for their employers, but there is a universe of talent out there that is eclipsed by the overpaid few. I suppose I’ve always felt that way, but the older I get and the grumpier I become, the less inclined I am to get worked up over a team that will inevitably break my heart.

Enter the Toronto Raptors. As I said, I am not a basketball fan, and never have been, but from the moment I watched Kawhi Leonard’s remarkable last-second, four-bouncer basket to beat the 76ers, I was hooked. I’ve watched every Raptors playoff game since that win, and it has been an exciting ride. Buoyed by the exuberating energy of the Toronto fans, I have been swept up in the excitement, and will watch their journey until the bitter or sweet end. I have learned more about the sport in the past three weeks than I ever knew, and the more I understand the strategies of the game, the more I appreciate their victories. What particularly impresses me about the team is that they do not appear to be overtly arrogant or cocky. I remember watching the Buffalo Bills just before their first (and I think most humiliating) bid for the Superbowl title, and their arrogance was palpable. To a man, the Raptors seem composed, focused, and most astonishingly, relatively humble. The message so clearly received from these underdogs is: we haven’t finished the job; we will try our hardest, and we will not pop the cork until we win. I love the story, not only because they are the underdog, but because they have fought so hard to get where they are, for so long, supported by so many loyal and enthusiastic Toronto fans. Is it not appropriate that the only Canadian NBA team is a strong contender to be overall champions, given that James Naismith, a Canadian, invented the sport? I don’t know what will happen tonight, but regardless of the outcome of this game, they still have three more chances after that, and they’ve already done their fans, their city, and their country proud.

Final note. While I lost interest in the Stanley Cup playoffs after the Leafs were eliminated, I am encouraged to note that the Boston Bruins, who barely beat the Toronto Maple Leafs in the first round, are now headed back to Boston for Game 7 of the finals. Don Cherry said they’re going to win the cup, and shouldn’t we believe everything that snappy dresser says? Even though I am an abused sports fan, and even though I have sworn not to get sucked into pro sports ever again, I have been intoxicated by the Toronto fandemonium, and cannot help myself.

But I still hate pro sports.

Tuesday, June 04, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 6/3/19

Shauna with Jon Brooks 6/1/19

Last Wednesday marked the 25^th anniversary of my marriage to Shauna Leigh. We have been through a lot as a couple, yet the fundamental principles that brought us together are still intact. Because Shauna has been incarcerated by illness for almost two years, these past few weeks have, figuratively speaking, been the spring to our prolonged winter. We’ve been out four or five times together during the past month, and Shauna is slowly beginning to regain some of her independence and self-esteem, which had been eroded by her two-year struggle to regain some sense of normalcy. As many of my readers can attest, illness is isolating and demoralizing. Until we lose our good health, we sometimes take for granted the mundane pleasures of life. A walk, a dinner out, a house concert, or the simple act of doing the laundry together, all become more meaningful after a long bout of illness.

Friends and family worry about me, because I am the caregiver. Shauna has suffered from a myriad of debilitating chronic illnesses, likely triggered by an episode of severe food poisoning, which almost killed her she was a young woman. I was well aware of Shauna’s medical condition before we married, but I knew in my heart that there was enough love and mutual respect to make the marriage work. I don’t think anyone knows for sure what a lifetime commitment is going to entail, and judging from divorce statistics nowadays, a lot of folks throw in the towel before they find out. No one, regardless of their circumstances, escapes adversity in their lives. These past two years have proved to be a test for us. Anyone put in this position knows how hard it can be emotionally, both on the caregiver, and on the one who is ill. The logical advice is that caregivers need to take care of themselves so that they can take care of others, but it’s remarkable how that logic goes out the window when the sh#t hits the fan. The good news is that Shauna seems to have weathered this latest storm, and is beginning to recover from the neurological attack which came close to blinding her.

On our anniversary, we spent the day in Huntsville, took a short walk, enjoyed a great iced coffee at The Nutty Chocolatier, and ended the day with a sumptuous feast at the Tall Trees Restaurant. To most, these activities would have seemed mundane, but to a couple sidelined by illness, this was a long overdue vacation. In this report I often speak about losing perspective. In my youth I took a lot for granted, but have lately begun to feel thankful for simpler things. It is largely a North American myth that material possessions and monetary wealth are the only measures of prosperity, but I’ve learned a hard lesson that prosperity without health and contentment is meaningless.

Last Saturday night, Shauna and I attended a house concert together, featuring the brilliant Jon Brooks, one of our favorite songwriters (accompanied by bassist Vivienne Wilder and our own Sean Cotton on guitar). The concert was held at the Bracebridge home of Hunters Bay Radio host and friend Silver Lake Joe Thompson and his wife Corinna. It was a wonderful night of music and laughter. Since Shauna’s re-entry into the outside world, we have attended two excellent house concerts in Muskoka, both having occurred within the last month. After music brought us together, twenty-five years ago last Wednesday, I married the woman I deemed to be my soul mate. Shauna, I’m glad you’re starting to get back on your feet, and that we are once again sharing live performances together. Here’s hoping we will attend many more concerts, side by side, throughout next twenty-five years!

Monday, May 27, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 5/27/19

Does anybody know who Edward Herbert Beresford is? Better known as “Chip Monck”, he was a theatrical lighting designer responsible for lighting the first Woodstock Music Festival stage. His deadpan voice can be heard on the soundtrack for the movie, Woodstock, and on the subsequent Woodstock: The Original Music Soundtrack And More album,. He made public service announcements, including the famous one warning people to beware of the “brown acid”. For anyone who may not know, acid is the street name for the hallucinogenic drug L.S.D, which was especially popular back in the 60s and 70s. I understand it is still available today on the street, although I wouldn’t know. I’m not sure what was circulating around the Woodstock Festival, but acid came in many forms when I was a teenager. With nicknames like “blotter”, “sunshine”, and “purple haze”, acid came in many shapes and potencies, and some of it, not all, was dangerous. From my understanding, it first emerged as a research drug to be tested on human subjects ,and in its purest form, it was not deemed to be life-threatening. How it could affect one’s mental state is another question. In an altered state of mind, users sometimes ruined their lives. Just ask Syd Barrett, one of the founding members of the band Pink Floyd. The other problem with acid was that it was sometimes cut with other substances, which could be harmful to the body.

I had two noteworthy secondhand run-ins with the drug. The first incident occurred when I was a teenager and attended a wild and unchaperoned party in New York City, hosted by one of my high school classmates. The party took place in a high-rise apartment, somewhere in the heart of Manhattan. There were a lot of drugs being passed around. Joni Mitchell’s Court And Spark album was playing on the radio as I walked out onto the balcony for a breath of fresh air. Much to my surprise, one of my female classmates was out there, standing on the railing of the balcony. I greeted her as calmly as I could, suspecting as I did that she was tripping on the acid which was circulating at the party. Without making too much of a fuss, I calmly asked her why she was standing on the railing of the balcony (which was well over 100 feet above street level), and she happily replied that she intended to jump over to the high-rise balcony across the street. It never crossed her mind that this might be a bad idea. About that time, the host of the party walked out onto said balcony, and together we (mostly he) convinced her that she needed to come inside and help us with something. Thankfully, after some negotiating, she did step down from the railing and followed us inside, after several tense moments. The second experience ended tragically. Someone at our college in Connecticut was manufacturing L.S.D. and while testing its strength, he lost his mind and stabbed one friend to death and seriously injured another. Every “bad trip” acid story I have ever heard has been directly attributable to the potency of the drug.

In the past week, the opioid crisis has revisited and traumatized our Muskoka community. I’m not clear on the details, but reportedly, there have been several drug-related deaths caused an especially potent form of heroin. Known on the street as “purp”, this dangerous drug is laced with the synthetic opioid fentanyl, or sometimes the exponentially more deadly carfentanil. There have also been unsubstantiated reports that other locally sourced drugs, like cocaine and even some black market weed, have been laced with these potenially lethal additives. I think back to the potential risks I faced as a teenager, and they pale by comparison to the dangers recreational drug users and addicts face today. Any pill handed out at a party can be deadly, and uninformed drug experimentation today is far riskier than it was over 40 years ago. Disregarding for a moment the dangers an addict faces, anybody, even, straight-as-an-arrow kids, can end up the victim of this exploding opioid crisis. My heart goes out to the families and friends of those victims. By the way, I understand that the girl we talked off the balcony that fateful night eventually became a successful scientist.

Final note: I never dreamed I’d become a basketball fan, but, now I'm hooked. What a great playoff series the Toronto Raptors have had thus far. GO RAPTORS! You’ve fought so hard to get where you are now. Fans from all across Canada are rooting for you, wishing you continued success in your bid to become the NBA champions!

Monday, May 20, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 5/20/19

Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of attending the Muskoka 2/4 Craft Beer Festival in Huntsville’s River Mill Park, sponsored by the Huntsville BIA and Hunters Bay Radio, The Bay 88.7 FM. This year, I believe the attendance was the highest so far, around 1400 attendees, and though the weather was not perfect, the rain held off until the end of the day. I’m convinced everyone had a good time; I know I did. Fifteen craft breweries set up tents down around the River Mill Park bandstand and attendees were able to sample any number of the approximately 40 brews offered, served in little sampler mugs. Hunters Bay Radio (The Bay 88.7 FM) provided non-stop musical entertainment throughout the day, on two back-to-back stages, and there were food stands offering a variety of munchies for all imbibers.

When I arrived “Tonic Lane” was onstage, and if you have the opportunity, you owe it to yourselves to see these kids. They are all top-notch musicians, spawned in large part from the remarkable music department at Huntsville High School. I wish I’d had their talent when I was that young; I wish I’d had the kind of mentoring available in this community. I’ve been playing the guitar for fifty years and I still don’t have their chops. My friends Paul Noonan, who might be the best kept secret in our musical community, and Sean Cotton, who has so far produced four of my songs, performed a great acoustic set. After they played, I spoke with Paul, who is a recent emigrant from Wales,UK about our good fortune to be living in such a music friendly locale. With so much emphasis on popular recognition, and with the ever-eroding quality of commercial radio, it is incumbent on community and college radio stations, as well as musician-friendly venues, to carry the torch. Kudos to Jeff Carter, managing director of The Bay 88.7 FM, for his undying support of local artists. Another one of my producers, the always entertaining and talented Juan Barbosa, did some of his tried and true originals, accompanied by his musical partner and collaborator, Jeff Stamp, a.k.a “Stampy” “, “Ol Stampy” and a few other aliases. In their set there was a cameo by up and coming young artist Sawyer Lance, who knocked it out the park with a passionate rendition of one of his latest song Fireball. That kid could sing the phonebook and sell it, and he’s fast developing into a capable songwriter as well. The first time Sawyer played the Live Drive at The Bay 88.7 FM, Jeff Carter insisted we broadcast one of his songs from the recorded show and use it in regular rotation. That song ended up reaching #1 on Muskoka's Top 20 Countdown. Jeremy Waterhouse, rock/reggae guitarist and singer song writer, performed a fantastic with his band Waterhouse, which included the tight rhythm section of Phebus Phebus on bass, Barry Hayward on congas, and Imre de Jonge on drums. Adding to the groove were backup vocalists (Imre’s daughter) Bronwyn Boyer, and Tamica Herod, with Dick Fairthorne II filling out the mix on keyboards. Among other songs, they played great covers of Pink Floyd and Santana in a reggae time signature, and they really got the crowd rocking. Christine Heron and Jason Bradley Hack did their inspiring and quirky take on country covers with a hint of psychedelia, Hunters Bay Radio Canadian Country host (airing on The Bay from 3p.m. to 6 p.m. Sundays) James Van Meer played some of his original songs. Hip hop band Taktikz won the award for inspiring the most audience participation. Hip hop is not a genre which I embrace, but front man Adam Lee is doing his best to make a believer out of me. These guys were really good and had me dancing like a fool before their set was over. As a songwriter, I am always interested in expanding my range, and every so often, when I am exposed to the more melodic, lyrical element of hip hop, I can relate. Taktikz had an undeniable groove and it was just good fun all around. Adam Lee is an engaging artist and, judging from his audience, he has a loyal and growing fan base. We have had a few conversations about the genre, and he has generously offered to teach me a little bit about hip hop, which is so unfamiliar to me (but not most of the rest of the world). Closing out the afternoon, alt-rock band Overplay, including frontman Jesse Cotton, performed a rousing set of their original tunes.To Clayton Earl and his band Another Anxious Tomorrow (featuring Jack Nickalls, son of actor and Hunters Bay Radio morning show radio host Grant Nickalls), I'm sorry I missed your set, but I'm sure it was great. All in all, it was a wonderful day of music, beer, food, and celebration. By the way, there are video clips of many of the acts available on the Hunters Bay Radio Facebook page. I know because I shot some of them.

For me, it was all about the live music. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, the music business is slowly sucking the last bit of creativity out of music. While good songs and musicians abound, 90% or more of them are eclipsed by the robotic sameness which drives mainstream pop today. I volunteer for this little community radio station to offer an alternative to the soul-sucking pop drek that passes for commercial radio. I am surrounded by like-minded volunteers and musicians at The Bay 88.7 FM, which generously offers a voice to under-recognized musicians. Every on of my friends who performed who performed at the Muskoka 2/4 Beerfest brought their “A” game, and it was exhilarating to see them perform so well in front of such a large audience. Though I had little to do with the success of this event, or the artists who performed therein, I felt like a proud father.

Monday, May 13, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 5/13/19

Me with Mom (Grampy in the background)

Yesterday was Mother’s Day, and I posted a photo on Facebook of me and my mom when I was about two or three. The photograph was taken at our summer cottage near Crystal Beach on the north shore of Lake Erie, at the house I sold shortly after my mom died in 2011. I should have sold the house long before she died, but held onto it for all the wrong reasons. I felt I could not sell my mom’s summer home, in case she might want to visit it again. Mostly, I suppose, I was in denial that I would never again be able to recreate those fabled family gatherings, full of laughter and barbecues, and maybe sometimes a little too much booze. I’m not sure when it was purchased, but her father bought it when there were few other houses on the beach, perhaps in the early 1930s. I kept deluding myself that the house still meant something to her; it was, after all, such an important meeting place for our family, and a house where we gathered from our distant homes to reunite. In fact, for the last five years of her life, Mom suffered from a degenerative illness known as Lewy Body dementia, and she most likely did not know the house even existed. It was on an acre of waterfront land and was expensive to maintain. I finally let it go.

As the picture suggests, life was good back then, so good in fact, that I’d say most of my happiest memories occurred in that old beach house. I wrote four or five songs about the experience, and recently recorded one of them, “Grampy’s House”, about the feeling that I have not been in sync with the passage of time. It is about taking a walk on the beach near that property, shortly before I was about to sell it, and describes the haunting regret; the feeling that time was just rolling over me like a bulldozer. When I sold the house, I went in to clear out the chattels that were not included in the sale, and stuck in the back of a bedroom closet I found old paintings my mom had made as a young art student. Everywhere there were mementos of the distant past; trinkets, linens, furniture that I could not keep, and photographs. While it made me sad to let most of the contents go, the memory of that house conjures up a thousand happy memories, and for this I am thankful. Besides, “you can’t take it with you.”

I remember my first boat, a tiny little red wooden boat that my grandfather gave to me when I was the little boy in the above-mentioned photo. It was barely large enough for a little boy to sit in. I’ve loved boats and water ever since the day I first floated around in that one. I remember Bassett’s Farm (a.k.a. Longmeadow Farm) near Crystal Beach, where Mom and Dad kept their horses in the summer. I remember the sound of the clunky old water pump that delivered water to the barn. I recall the omnipresent smells of livestock, manure, and hay, and some of the people who ran the farm, including old Mr. Bassett, the owner. I remember the sound of cicadas in the hot, humid nights, walks to Windmill Point to explore the ruins of that spooky old windmill, and the bellow of the old foghorn coming from the Point Abino Lighthouse. Most of all, I remember my parents when they were young and healthy, and when we all had so much life ahead of us.

One of the songs I began to write ten years ago, then shelved until recently, is a song about an old photograph of my mom sitting on a horse in Palm Springs, and the working title of the song is “Laughing”. There is a line which reads: “wherein lies the truth behind the flash of a camera smile?” The photograph was taken in the late fifties, shortly after my thirteen-year-old sister Joanne was hit and killed by a truck as she ran across the street. The song is about loss, and how we deal with it. Appropriately, it is unfinished, because at 63, I’m still trying to figure it all out. My mom was so many things to so many people. She was a volunteer at Buffalo Children’s Hospital, she sat on many boards, was a generous supporter of local charities, she ran a large house, and raised a family. While she came from privilege, she was full of love and she gave it freely to anyone who was receptive. Those who knew her well knew were aware of her accomplishments, but she was also a complicated, creative person, who had endured formidable heartache in her life. It took me a long time to realize what an amazing woman she was.

I can’t slow down the torrent which is time. One minute, I’m a three-year-old kid, safe and happy in my mother’s arms. Before I knew it, sixty years have passed and I’m lost and feeling like I’ve been left at the starting gate. Today, beach houses, long-gone friends, pets, old boats, cars, celebrations, memories, and yellowed photographs, are all swirling around in my head like those spinning newspapers you see in the movies to connote the passage of time. Sometimes, I get a bit overwhelmed, especially on a damp, cold, gloomy Monday such as this one. My mom was many good things, but most of all, she loved me and cared for me unconditionally. For this I am thankful. I love her and I miss her dearly, and I owe it to her memory to do my best to follow her example.

Monday, May 06, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 5/6/19

As I begin to write this week’s instalment of the Oppenheimer Report, the flood waters are receding in our community, and I can now see the stairs of our retractable dock at the waterline. The road leading to our house has re-opened, and I don’t need to make a 15-kilometre detour to pick up our mail down the road. Our phone lines are still out, but I won’t complain, because less than two miles away, along the Magnetawan River, people have had their homes destroyed. Indeed, we were very lucky, this time. The other day, I took the paddle boat out on the lake and surveyed the nearby shoreline. As I suspected, many of the rental cottages down the way, which have perennially flooded in the spring, are still underwater. One of the oldest cottages on the lake, across from us and long uninhabited, is showing visible signs of structural collapse. Today, as I waited in line for my turn to dump our garbage at the local landfill, I noticed one of my neighbors with a trailer full of debris from the flood. The cleanup from this one will be long and arduous. Even before this latest disastrous flooding, the winter of 2018-2019 was a destructive one for us here at Jasper Bark Lodge. Underground frost heaves and the wildly varying temperature changes have wreaked havoc with our out buildings and our land. Our hydro pole is at a 45-degree slant now and one of our garden sheds, where I keep the ATV, has sunk about 8” in the front. The other day, when I drove the ATV back into the shed, it started to roll back out. That was when I first noticed the new and pronounced slant to the building.

As I’ve mentioned several times before in this report, there is a segment that I enjoy every weekday morning at 10:10 a.m. on Hunters Bay Radio, called Tech 5. Hosted by my octogenarian friend Ben Harrison, this morning’s topic was Facebook, and Ben mentioned two statistics which surprised me. First, he said that Facebook was now worth about $600 Billion. I wonder if Mark Zuckerberg had any idea his social experiment would grow into the monster it is now, when he illegally put up its precursor, FaceMash, on the Harvard University private network back in 2003. The second statistic Ben sited is that, in 50 years, it is predicted that the number of Facebook pages dedicated to dead people will be greater than those of the living. This in turn begs the question, what impact might these posthumous pages have on the recording of history? Some, I included, argue that there is too much information out there, and ironically, sometimes too much information can obscure the truth. There are plenty of examples of rants people put up that I’m sure they wish they hadn’t. While one can take down a post, once it’s “out there” it’s hard to expunge. These days, with the truth on injured reserve, I’m not so sure a damning post would be as harmful as it used to be. When I think of some of the scandals that brought down former presidential candidates (e.g. Hart and Dukakis), and compare those to the raw sewage our Commander-In-Tweet routinely spews out onto the social network, I’m not sure the truth really matters to many people anymore. It’s certainly difficult to ascertain. I can’t help but wonder, what will my legacy be? What digital footprint have I left that will reveal my deepest darkest secrets?

One of my musician friends, who performed on last Thursday night’s Live Drive show at the station, told me he’d just taken a brief Facebook holiday. I asked him about it because Shauna, who does a lot of the social media posting for Hunters Bay Radio, tried to tag him for the show announcement, and she was unable to do so. He said Facebook had become a suck on his limited spare time (ain’t that the truth) and that he needed to cut himself off. More and more, I’m hearing the expression “Facebook holiday”. What information have we, in a weak moment, inadvertently revealed during our 2-20 hours per week on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, etc.? Especially now that we are in this superheated era of political correctness, where sometimes inappropriate humor becomes a career-demolishing blunder, I’d be concerned if I were ever to aspire to public office (which I most certainly will not!) that my words would inevitably come back to haunt me. I’ve been writing this report for close to 30 years, and for the past 25 years, it has been posted in some form or another on the internet. Thankfully, I have about 13 loyal readers, but there are plenty of things I wish I hadn’t said, mostly nasty things about self-important celebrities, athletes, and politicians.

Nothing much happened last week in the news. U.S. Attorney General Barr stonewalled the Senate Judiciary Committee, while being questioned about the legitimacy of his de facto exoneration of Rump; in Russia a commercial jet was hit by lightning and exploded in flames while making an emergency landing, killing about 41; there was a failed coup in Venezuela, wherein opposition leader Juan Guaido attempted to unseat dictator Nicolas Maduro; and oh yes, the royal bun is out of the oven. Today, Harry and Meghan, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex today announced the birth of their baby boy, who is now our first biracial royal. The haters should be all over social media commenting on this last story. Can’t wait for that “truthiness”. Gotta go, Facebook is calling.

Monday, April 29, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 4/29/19

We’ve had serious flooding up here in Muskoka and the Almaguin Highlands, as has much of Northeastern Canada. The perfect storm of melting snow, warmer weather, and heavy rains have combined to cause waterways to swell in the local area. To compound the problems, there is more heavy rain in the forecast for later this week. The problem is widespread, with swollen rivers, overflowing dams, and damaged infrastructure impacting communities in many of the eastern provinces. Some in our community have already lost their homes, many are without power, and phone lines in Katrine have been shut down indefinitely until the water subsides. Nearby Bracebrige seems to have been hardest hit, and the damage has been devastating to that community. Last Friday afternoon, I attended a meeting at the Katrine Community Centre to hear what our Reeve and representatives from volunteer fire department, the police, and The Red Cross had to say about the flooding which has so far impacted our community. As it turns out, not much can be done, at least until the water recedes. First responders face an increasingly difficult job as some roadways become impassable, and the weather has not been particularly cooperative.

Near us, those living along the Magnetawan River here in Katrine were hardest hit, and many people have recently been evacuated. I rode my ATV over to nearby Horseshoe Lane, a crescent that runs along the river, and it was completely underwater. Shortly thereafter, the main road into Katrine became impassable and was closed. One of the residents on Horseshoe Lane is an elderly friend of mine named Ed. I called him up last week to see if he was okay, and he said that he and his dog Sadie were all right for the time being, but that he was ready to evacuate if he had to. He’d already lost most of the equipment in his garage, and the water was creeping up to his house. Ed is a stubborn son of a gun, and he was going to wait it out as long as he could. I saw him at the community center meeting last Friday afternoon, and he came up to me afterwards to recount what happened shortly after I’d called him. As I suspected, he had to evacuate quickly, which in and of itself is nerve-racking. As he loaded his dog into his canoe, so he could paddle out to his car on dry land, the dog got spooked, and as he was trying to catch the dog, the canoe capsized. My 78 year-old friend and his dog were tossed into the freezing cold water. This was not exactly what he’d planned. He laughed it off and said he just grabbed a bar of soap and had a bath.

It is not uncommon for us to experience mild flooding along our lake, as the spring melt swells local rivers, but this is, according to long time residents of this area, the worst it has been in over 30 years. I gauge the water level by watching our retractable dock sinking into the lake, and presently the fulcrum of the dock, usually four feet above the water level, is now well over a foot underwater. I’ve never seen flooding this bad in our area. The other day I watched a neighbor’s front porch, complete with barbecue, float by. Still this is nothing compared to what others are experiencing. The ground is saturated, there is more rain coming, and what is to be done when there is simply too much water?

When a dike broke in Ste-Marthe-sur-le-Lac, Quebec, 6500 residents had to be evacuated to higher ground. In the nation’s capital, and nearby Gatineau Quebec, the swollen Ottawa River has prompted evacuations and forced bridge closures. There is major flooding in the Maritimes as well. If this is the new norm, then we’d better start to prepare for it. Already I’m hearing a lot of talk about government requiring flood victims to move to higher ground as a prerequisite for flood relief. That will be a hard sell. I wonder if there isn’t a way to divert water away to man-made reservoirs during these flooding scenarios, but I suspect that would be too expensive. Maybe, as fresh water becomes a more precious commodity, it will pay to pipe it to more arid regions that need water. A friend of mine, presently studying to be an architect, pointed out that my idea, while interesting, would be impractical, given the infrequency of floods. Perhaps that is true now, but what about when the polar ice cap melts. Hey, I know about as much about climate science as Donald Trump knows about diplomacy.

Fires, floods, ignorant, hateful cowards shooting up places of worship; maybe these are messages from above. Perhaps when frogs start to rain down from the sky, then we willl begin to take notice.

Monday, April 22, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 4/22/19

It’s very quiet here at Jasper Bark Lodge without our furry little girl. We had Jasper to sleep last Thursday, and while we knew it was the humane thing to do, it is never easy saying farewell to a beloved pet. These past few days have been especially tough, because everywhere in this house are mementos of Jasper’s life. Her toys are still in their toy box, her dog dish sits on the kitchen counter, and of late the counter is full of medications and supplements, signs of her geriatric care. I had taken her to the vet a few weeks ago, because I felt the end was near, but I needed an objective opinion. I was afraid that Shauna and I were too close to her to make the right choice on our own; that we might be in denial. It was confusing, because Jasper was still eating all her food, and she seemed to be holding her own. We reasoned that we (and she) would know when the time came. The vet confirmed my suspicion that several troubling behavioral changes indicated she was quite sick, and that the humane thing was to put her to sleep. I am surprised to find that many vets require a large fee to assess a pet before they will euthanize, and this seems wrong to me. The last thing an owner needs, after making the difficult decision to say farewell to a beloved pet, is to be charged a large fee to confirm the obvious. We sought the vet’s opinion, because Jasper’s case was confusing. People kept telling us, and we believed in our hearts, that we’d know when it was time, but it wasn’t clear to us. She was still eating and eliminating normally, but she was clearly failing. We were unsure whether she was in distress or not.

For any first-time pet owners faced with making this difficult decision, ask yourself the following questions. Does my pet have a good quality of life? Is he or she able to do the things that give him or her joy? For Jasper, that was guarding our house. She was the gatekeeper. She hated rodents, especially squirrels. She once caught and killed a flying squirrel that had somehow managed to enter our house. Those things are not easy to catch, believe me! She was very proud of her duties as watchdog, and albeit a noisy one, she was better than any burglar alarm we’ve ever had. If your pet’s quality of life is bad – and this can be difficult to assess – then it’s time. We were looking for the obvious signs, but the vet said that sometimes it’s hard to tell. With Jasper, there was perhaps evidence of a brain event of some sort. The only way to confirm that was to take her down to Toronto and have an MRI done, at a cost of about $3000. And if it was a brain tumor or lesion of some sort, it wouldn’t have been operable anyway. This was the first time either Shauna or I had had to put a pet down, because Jasper was the first pet we’d actually owned, single or as a couple. Before that, all the family pets, whom we borrowed from time to time, were owned by our parents.

When I asked our vet the questions no pet owner wants to ask, she was very understanding. She said if it were her dog, she would put her down sooner rather than later. We trust our vet. We chose her because were disenchanted with our local vet, and because some friends had used her when they had their dog put to sleep. They reported that she was fair and compassionate, and she did not require the expensive pre-euthanasia assessment. Our friend’s dog was far more infirmed than Jasper, and could hardly walk, so the idea that it needed an expensive assessment to determine the course of action was absurd. Anyhow, I asked her if she made house calls, but she said we lived too far away. She recommended a mobile vet in Barrie who had once worked for her. Last Thursday afternoon, that vet came our home. She was caring and compassionate, and she made a very hard day a little easier. She began her mobile vet service, specializing in palliative care and euthanasia, because she knew there were people like Shauna and me who would prefer their pet pass away peacefully at home. Jasper did so, in the comfort of her own home, on the bed she has slept in for many years, with both Shauna and I lying by her side. An emotionally difficult experience was made much easier because we were able to say goodbye to our pet at home. We love you Jasper, rest in peace.

Monday, April 15, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report - 4/15/19

As I begin writing this report today, the breaking news on television is that Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris is on fire and burning out of control. Concurrently, a message comes across the lower right corner of my computer screen informing me of this sad news. I watch this spectacle unfold in real time, like I’d watch a car wreck; helpless, saddened, but also fascinated. Eight centuries of history goes up in smoke in front of my eyes. As I’ve said over and over, the immediacy of bad news in general has had a cumulative effect on my peace of mind. Shauna just opened up Google Earth, and we had a bird’s eye view of the cathedral, of its remarkable architectural detail, and of its location within Paris. Virtually, we flew over the building and viewed it from every imaginable angle, examining the roof which has now been largely destroyed. Last week, I spoke of the erosion of my contentment, and I am reminded to seize the day. Even this medieval edifice, in which Napoleon was crowned emperor, and which embodied so much history, will not last forever.

My sister Jill called me yesterday from her home in Virginia, and my immediate reaction was to panic. We don’t speak all that often, and since my parents passed away, we have lost what little touch we had with each other. The moment I saw her number on our call display, my imagination went into overdrive. What’s gone wrong in her family; has one of the kids or grandchildren had a tragic accident, was she diagnosed with a terminal illness, did her house burn down? Why else would my sister be contacting me out of the blue, after so much time? I think I’m experiencing mild and untraceable PTS, and such is the nature of my fight or flight state of mind of late. Why do I immediately gravitate to DEFCON 1 when I get a call from a family member? Over the past ten year, during which Mom and Dad were in the end stages of their lives, and then Shauna’s dad fell ill, there were so many didn’t-see-that-coming phone calls. I seem to have unconsciously harbored the stress from those events, and can’t seem to shed the negative thoughts. I follow my nephews, Jill’s kids and their families, on Facebook, and I take vicarious pleasure in watching their lives unfold in photographs, and reading their posts. This includes the celebration of new pets, exotic travels, not-so-exotic travels, career and educational milestones, etc. But the immediacy of all information these days, verifiable or otherwise, is increasingly overwhelming. Time passes with each click of a mouse, and with every disaster, be it global, local, or familial, I lose a little more of my perspective, of my elusive peace of mind. It’s all going by too fast, swirling like the out-of-control fire that destroys an 800-year-old cathedral. Well, that’s how I feel today.

I’ve heard the expression “heartache” so many times, but I never knew it was an actual feeling. I have been feeling my heart ache for the past few days, as we have arranged to have a vet come into our home this Thursday afternoon to put our beloved Jasper to sleep. Originally, we’d planned to do this Sunday, in order to coincide with a meaningful birthday, oblivious to the fact that it was Easter Sunday. Just shy of fourteen years old, our Jasper has reached her end. As hard as it was to make the call, after a visit to our vet, Shauna and I agreed that this is the humane thing to do. Right now, Jasper is sleeping soundly on the bed, snoring softly, and Shauna is cuddled up next to her. While she no longer knows who we are, for the time being she is comfortable, and she is not alone. Shauna and I will be with her until her final sleep. Fourteen precious years, measured by the life of a pet who has accompanied us everywhere, went by in a flash. I’ve have heard from so many people who have lost old pets over the past year, and I have vicariously felt their pain, knowing that this day would soon come for our girl. To be painless is to consent not to feel.

Today began with a terrific snowstorm, then later the sun came out and the snow melt was trickling down our driveway. Perhaps this is winter’s last gasp. We may get some more snow, but as I headed over to the general store to pick up our mail, I noticed an ever-widening swath of open water on the frozen lake. Another season has come and gone, and I can’t help but wonder what’s in store for the next one.

Monday, April 08, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report 4/8/19

On Hunters Bay Radio, every weekday morning at 10 AM, there is a short segment called Tech 5, produced by my friend and fellow volunteer, Ben Harrison. In it, Ben talks about the effects of science, nature, and technology on mankind. Ben is a little like Andy Rooney without the grumpy demeanor, and his commentaries are always interesting. This morning, while he was discussing the possible resurgence of the Monarch butterfly in North America, he quoted something Nathanial Hawthorne once wrote: “Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight on you.” Boy, did that quote hit home.

Last Saturday, I had a whirlwind visit from my best friend Bob Miller, who drove up from Buffalo to see me, then drove home the next day. Though we talk on the phone regularly, we had not seen each other in a long time. Bob and I spent much of our wild youth together, and many of my fondest (and embellished) memories occurred in his company. After I married Shauna and moved up to Toronto, Bob and I didn't see each all that much, but we made a point to meet at least a few times a year. For a while, before we both quit drinking, that included an annual raucous weekend in Niagara Falls, Ontario. Don’t ask me why, but we were particularly drawn to the wax museums featuring macabre chambers of horrors and monsters. There is something about stumbling around drunk in wax museums that appealed to both of us. Go figure. I think perhaps it reminded us of our summers partying in Crystal Beach. Anyhow, circumstances have precluded our last few visits, and Bob was kind enough to make the four-hour drive to break that cycle.

As I have often said in these reports, time seems to be shooting by much faster in the second half of my life. Of late, I have been experiencing a perplexing and unshakeable anxiousness. Many of my peers have relayed similar experiences, and for some, not all of us, life’s ever-compounding complications have taken their toll on our contentment. It’s been a challenging couple of years for Shauna and me, and especially for Shauna. We have not had much of a social life since she experienced a neurological attack in the summer of 2017, an illness which nearly robbed her of her eyesight. Complications from the medications prescribed to keep her from going blind have left her almost constantly exhausted and discouraged. To compound problems, the past several months have been particularly isolating, because our beloved dog Jasper is slowly failing. Jasper has been so much a part of our lives over the past 14 years, we simply lost track of time. She watched our house being built and she has been our almost constant companion. A childless couple, we have likely projected a disproportionate amount of our love on this little ragamuffin. Last Friday we made the hard decision to have her put to sleep in a week or two. Believe me, I get the irony of someone like me, who falls into the top one percentile of most fortunate people in the world, complaining about his charmed life. I am not completely without perspective about my good fortune. The fact is, no one escapes the fickle finger of fate, and it seems that, mired in my regret over the troubles which plague everyone, I sometimes lose sight of the joy that is all around me.

Certainly Shauna has centered this sometimes rudderless ship for the past 25 years, and there is nothing so rewarding as the love of a person who knows me better than anyone else does. Bob is a close second; he and I have been friends for almost fifty years. We grew up in the same neighborhood, and we've had a lot of fun together over the years. Last Saturday night I had a strong, albeit brief reminder of the blessings of friends and family. I needed that kick in the ass. After dinner at the new and improved Landmark Pub in Burk’s Falls, we came home and, in front of a roaring fire, I and one of my best and oldest friends did what we have been doing for the past five decades: we hung out and listened to music; for six hours. I have unwittingly allowed life’s countless curveballs and sucker punches to chip away at my contentment, but the joy is always there, somewhere beneath the surface. A short visit from a close friend reminded me of this and afforded me some much-needed perspective. In front of the flickering amber light of the fireplace flames, in an otherwise dark living room, as we listened to the entire Twelve Dreams Of Dr. Sardonicus album (you must listen to the entire album turned up loud), and my anxiousness abated. It was as if a butterfly had landed on my toe.

Monday, April 01, 2019

The Oppenheimer Report - 4/1/19

Happy April Fools Day! Last Thursday night, I was at the radio station broadcasting my show, and I was about halfway through it when the phone rang. I rarely pick up a call at the station when I'm doing my show, but I wondered who might be calling so late. If Shauna needed to reach me in an emergency, she’d call my cell or text. After the second call, and about ten rings, I finally answered the phone. The guy on the other end of the line was calling to ask about the Hunters Bay Radio Super Jackpot Radio Bingo game. For those readers who are not local, Hunters Bay offers a radio bingo game on Monday nights, and it’s a lot of fun. Players send funny on-air shout outs to each other, and the odds of winning some money are pretty good. There are five games in all, and the prizes increase with each game, with the potential to win the $4000 super jackpot in the last game. The profits from the game go directly back into the community we serve, so not only is radio bingo fun to play, but the money raised is used to do good things. The caller said he’d been listening to the station and wanted to know how he could play. Ever the promoter of the radio station, and eager to encourage another player to join in, I began to give him the various locations locally where he could purchase bingo cards. When I asked him where he lived, so I could recommend the nearest location, he said he was calling from Airdrie, Alberta! Unfortunately, our bingo game is only legal in the Province of Ontario, but I was delighted to learn that we have listeners in Alberta! Perhaps he was just playing an early April Fools joke on me, who knows. I often feature Western artists on my show, and this does sometimes attract listeners from out of province.

Hunters Bay Radio does not track their audience, as do many commercial stations. It is an expensive undertaking and, as a community radio station, we have not so far attracted many national sponsors. That said, I often wonder what our reach is, and how many people might be listening online. I naturally assume that my audience is not very large, but I don’t know. If I play an original song that might not otherwise get radio exposure, the featured artist might ask his or her friends to listen online to hear the song. While our FM signal is not very strong - on a clear day we may be heard as far south as Orillia, and perhaps a little further north than South River – we have no idea how many listeners might be tuning in online. Hunters Bay Radio recently applied for a permit to boost our signal with a repeater in Bracebridge, to fill in a lot of our dead zones in that area, but we were met with significant opposition from the area’s commercial stations. They spent a lot of money to campaign against our expansion, and their efforts succeeded, because our application was rejected by the CRTC. How a small community radio station in Huntsville is any competition for commercial radio stations with a far greater broadcasting range is a mystery to me. I suspect that the mere fact that the commercial stations are trying to keep us from expanding our audience is a sign that they feel threatened. I despise most commercial pop radio, and increasingly, it seems to promote the worst music money can buy. I forced myself to listen to an hour of Moose FM the other day, and it was quite simply abysmal. Music lovers in our community know that Hunters Bay Radio wins hands down in the music programming department.

I was curious about wherein began the tradition of promoting hoaxes on the first of April, and there is evidence that the tradition dates back many centuries. Some suggest Chaucer started the tradition when he referred to the non-existent date “32 March” in his Canterbury Tales. Some suggest it is merely a light-hearted celebration in anticipation of springtime, dating back to the Julian calendar, wherein the vernal equinox marked the beginning of the New Year. Whatever its origin, it is not universally celebrated, and there is sometimes debate about what is considered funny. There was one hoax in Boston, wherein some DJs at a radio station declared that Boston’s mayor had been killed in a car accident. The people responsible for the hoax were summarily fired. The other problem with April Fools hoaxes is that some news is deemed to be a hoax when in fact it is true. I suggest we all double check our news today, because, as the above-referenced photo points out, the truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. By the way, here’s a little message for the local commercial radio stations, Happy April Fools Day. You may have the money, but we've got the soul.