The Oppenheimer Report 5/25/20

For some reason, something has changed in this blog, and I can no long post the way I used to. If you would like to read this weeks entry, please click on the following link:

https://muskokaradio.com/news/article/the-oppenheimer-report-may-25-2020?fbclid=IwAR00yya3ckvKiKhIsMkwT1amGnE3QGXwNxCEKZDczDBW15Yr6O41W-KSiec

The Oppenheimer Report 5/18/20

High 5 from Sydney on Day 3

As I begin writing this report, Sydney, our 9 week-old Miniature Schnauzer is currently out cold on her Granny Ethel “ET” Taylor’s chest. She is named in honour of Shauna’s late dad and ET’s husband, Dr. Sydney Taylor, and her official name is Dogter Sydney Taylor. Her namesake loved the breed and took wonderful care of his dogs. After a two month stay with us, today ET is returning to her home in Toronto to resume whatever sense of normalcy one can imagine in this much-changed world. While she does have a wonderful caregiver, she has remained, much to the consternation of her over-protective children, remarkably independent.

The journey to our new pup Sydney has been a long and crooked one. We lost Jasper a little over a year ago. For all of us to whom pets are family, you know that there is grief involved. I’ve spoken with so many people in the last year who have lost a pet, and their common advice was always “Oh, you’ve GOT to get another dog, and do it soon.” When a little time had passed we contacted Jasper’s breeder, who is one of the best in North America, because we wanted the best chance of acquiring and raising another healthy dog. The Taylor family had once had a horrible experience with a pup from an irresponsible breeder, and that dog had a constellation of health problems. Jasper was a healthy dog and lived a good, long life, and we wanted another dog like her. By the way, we went through a comprehensive interview with Jasper’s breeder before she would accept US.

Regrettably, we were not able to acquire another pup from the same breeder, but it was a year of hoping we would. First, we had to wait for one of her bitches to go into heat. Then, when that happened and she was inseminated, the pregnancy did not take. The next possible window of opportunity was months later, and when the insemination was to take place, there was a terrible snowstorm which prevented the two parties from getting together. Our final hope was for a pairing with one of her males and a champion bitch, but when that mating was to occur, there was another complication.

Shortly before we got the news about the last failed pairing a strange thing happened. A Canada goose landed on Jasper’s grave, which is overlooking the lake in front of our house. It stood there for the longest time without moving, then flew away. Shauna took it as a sign, and called the breeder, hoping for good news. When it became apparent that another pup was not in the cards, and that we had now waited just over a year, the breeder put us in touch with one of her respected colleagues, a woman in Ontario whom she trusted to be a responsible breeder. In a Serendipitous turn of events, we were just in time to acquire one of the three pups from her latest litter. The pup had been spoken for, but the buyer turned out to be unacceptable, and the breeder had just returned the deposit. Had we not called when we did, that pup would have been sold to another acceptable owner within an hour. 

5/19/20 - We posted a short video of Sydney last night on Facebook and I think it made a lot of people smile. I think we could all use a little good news. I don’t usually believe in signs, but perhaps that Canada goose knew something we didn’t know. 

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer ©2020 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 5/11/20

Did you ever have one of those “Oh yeah!” moments, wherein the stars aligned, and all was right in the world? It seems like a long time ago since I last felt that way. With all the stress and uncertainty swirling about right now, sometimes it is hard to remember those moments.

Yesterday was a weird Mother’s Day. Many people are separated from their families and cannot be with their mothers. Like me, many more were reminiscing about their mothers who are no longer alive. I’ve been poring through a lot of old photographs in the past few weeks. Sometimes it is helpful to get a little shot of perspective. Shauna posted a photo she took of me with my Mom over twenty years ago. It made me smile, and then I cried a little.

The other day on TECH 5 broadcast, Ben Harrison read the transcript of a mock bedtime story he gleaned from YouTube, and I found it amusing while at the same time, true. It involved a little boy imploring his dad to once again tell him the story of the COVID-19 pandemic. The gist of the story, told in a fairy tale style, was that everyone in the world was forced to change and sacrifice. Then, once the pandemic had passed, those people realized they were happier remaining in the more connected, less technology-driven, fast-paced world that they had left behind. I’ve been pining for that world for some time, snarled and tangled as I have become in the land of trolls, reality TV, bad news channels, social media, and “labour-saving” technology. As I read the 500 page owner’s manual for my Honda (only available in CD form by the way), trying to figure out why my key fob now only unlocks one door in my 4-door SUV instead of all the doors, it occurred to me, once again, that maybe I don’t need 4 different methods with which to lock and unlock my car doors.

I’ve had a song on my mind of late, written by the Drive-By Truckers, entitled “The Sands Of Iwo Jima”, and it is about a WWII vet. Last Friday marked the 75^th Anniversary of the end of WWII in Europe. From the dwindling population of WWII vets, one elderly man was interviewed on the news that night, and his optimism was refreshing. He and so many of his fellow soldiers had seen unspeakably horrible things, but many of those who survived went on to be selfless, humble, remarkable citizens. They prevailed. Of course, there was collateral damage. Some came back mentally scarred, and undoubtedly, all of them returned from battle changed. That old vet’s words stuck in my mind. He spoke of the current pandemic, and his attitude was the same as it probably was in the 40s. If we fight through this thing, we will eventually prevail, and we will survive, stronger for having endured the challenges. This is a war, make no mistake about it.

It’s been a long time since mankind was called upon to unite against a common enemy. There is no doubt the world has never been a sicker, more divided place. It’s so easy to point to Rump, the go-to scapegoat. He is a walking, talking turd emoji, The Commander-In-Tweet, and few will disagree he is a boorish, ignorant fool. Still, I think he is just the canary in the coal mine.  We as a species have a long history of making mistakes. There is progress and there is technology, and sometimes the two are mutually exclusive. Social media, spin-driven news, and the resulting erosion of social values have fanned the flames of hatred. Who wants to be a leader in this world today? Look at our priorities. Big shot athletes and famous actors are revered, while true heroes are marginalized, or ignored altogether. Right now, the focus is on extolling the right heroes: the doctors, the nurses, the PSWs, the firemen, the emergency first responders, the front line workers in essential services, but why now? It is because, for the moment, they are newsworthy; they are dying to protect us. My heart breaks every time I hear a story about some minority bus driver or PSW who was snatched by COVID-19 because we as a society did not have his or her back. I take partial responsibility for that, which probably sounds hypocritical coming from an entitled white man. Think about it though, isn’t it simply a matter of time before we will all perish if we do not reset the way we think? Turn the other cheek, forgive, figure out a way to look beyond your own personal needs, and try to help someone else who is not like you. I am no evangelist, but I do feel we can’t save ourselves if we can’t help each other. Whether you can identify with the poor, the homeless, and/or other minority groups, as Pogo the cartoon opossum said: “We have met the enemy and he is us.” The current status of my faith in a higher power is unsure at present, but lately, it feels as if there IS some kind of cosmic reset occurring. Mother Nature, or the entity with a white flowing beard, or pick your universal puppet master, has started to pull the strings again. The clouds are parting, and a reverberating voice from the heavens booms: “Hey, human race, you’ve come off the rails once again. It’s time for yet another painful history lesson. Boost the empathy and compassion a bit, and hopefully you can all learn to play nice with the other kids. You snooze, you lose, mankind. It’s up to you, wake up or perish!”

I have been terrified of death all my life, but for some reason I am a little less afraid of it these days.  I still don’t want to die, but I’ve had a good life so far, and I don’t have too many regrets. Perhaps I’ve become a little more fatalistic with all the fear, anger, and heartache surrounding me. These days I am concentrating on doing more than ever on doing much more for others than I ever have before. I am reminded of and thankful for the courageous people around me. I recognize their sacrifices. They too may be fearful, but they manage to do the right thing in spite of it all.  I salute them, I admire them, and I want to emulate them. I want to do more good than harm, until the Grim Reaper points its orange, bony finger at me and mutters, “You’re Fired!”.

  Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 5/4/20

One of the things that blows my mind about social media, other than the fact that people can personally attack their perceived enemies with impunity and broadcast their every pearl of wisdom to a universe of cyberspace recipients who could care less, is the fact that I can communicate with otherwise inaccessible people in the music business. In the past five years, and through my affiliation with Hunters Bay Radio, I’ve interacted with dozens of successful songwriters and musicians whom I admire.  As well, I’ve been blessed to meet some talented performers. I remember back around 2014, I walked in the front door of Hunters Bay Radio and there on the stage was my late friend James Carroll, interviewing Alan Doyle, lead singer for the band Great Big Sea. Music is the universal language, and I feel that our little radio station is beginning to get that message out.    

Dean McTaggart is one singer/songwriter with whom I recently made contact. I featured some of his songs in last week’s LYRICAL WORKERS show. I am currently reading the book “Talk! Conversations In All Keys” by musician/producer/arranger/radio host Bill King. Dean McTaggart’s name came up in a discussion about Amanda Marshall’s self-titled debut album. That is a great album for many reasons, certainly not the least of which is Amanda Marshall’s distinctive and bluesy voice. What impresses me most about the album is the great songwriting, and when I learned that Mr. McTaggart had written four of my favorite songs on the album, I had to let him know. He was kind enough to write back and, though him, I have learned about several more songwriters with whom I was unfamiliar. With every new contact, and every new story imparted, I learn a little more about the craft. Many are familiar with the artists who make songs famous, but I’m more interested in the writers.  Liza Minelli and Frank Sinatra made the song “New York New York” a hit, but how many people know that Fred Ebb and John Kander were the lyricist and composer of that song?

We got a lovely email from our friend and singer / songwriter Jon Brooks the other day, and in the message he talks about this “time out” for mankind, wherein people are perhaps more inclined to listen to songs carefully. His hope, and ours, is that as humanity resets, good songs will be an important part of the healing process. He is hopeful that, as a result of this pandemic, superior lyrical content will become more relevant, to a wider audience. I hope he’s right, because I fear we’re losing our capacity to listen.

Fellow volunteer and friend at Hunters Bay Radio, TECH 5 commentator Ben Harrison, sent me an interesting article the other day. It concerned the remarkable nature of trees, and their ability to take root almost anywhere. The article included a series of photographs illustrating the myriad of ways trees manage to grow in harsh environments. There are pictures of trees growing out of rocks, pavement, and old, rotted tree stumps. It’s a subtle reminder of the tenacity of Mother Nature. She will always prevail, and man’s hubris will be but a footnote in one volume of the Encyclopedia Of Life. I heard a sobering statistic on the news the other day. It was reported that, as of last week, COVID-19 has killed more Americans in 3 months than the Viet Nam War did in 10 years. Ironically, that fact was reported as parts of America begin to open back up for business, despite dire warnings from health experts. Peterborough songwriter Washboard Hank recently released a live performance which I posted on my Facebook page. I think the title of the song, which he penned with Terry McEvoy, sums it all up quite nicely: “Ain’t No Cure For Stupid”.  

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/27/20

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

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

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

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

                      Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/20/20

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

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

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

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

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

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

    

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/13/20

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

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

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

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

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/6/20

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

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

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

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3/30/20

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

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

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

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

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

NOTICE TO MY 13 LOYAL READERS!!

I may be somewhat late in posting to this blog, although I will continue to post here eventually. For a more current copy of the report, you can usually find it every Monday evening, on the Hunters Bay Radio website:

muskokaradio.com

As well, a link to the report can be found on the Hunters Bay Radio Facebook page and one of my reports is published monthly in the local newspaper The Great North Arrow. Thanks as always for reading my report!

Jamie

The Oppenheimer Report 3/23/20

What a difference a few weeks makes! One day, I’m wondering how early we’ll need to leave home in order to get to the Matt Andersen concert on time, and the next, I’m disinfecting counter surfaces and trying to figure out how to keep my immune-compromised wife and her 95 year-old mom from catching COVID-19 during our self-isolation. These days, I’m trying to ignore all the misinformation and spin, and have mostly been watching the 11 o’clock news for the broad strokes. The one good thing that has come from this pandemic is that it has prompted me to re-establish contact with some old friends.

The other day, I emailed my friend Scott, who now lives alone in Los Angeles. California is one of the states that has been hit hard by the virus outbreak, and I wanted to find out how he was doing. Scott, my old friend Bob, and I spent a lot of time in each other’s company during the summers of our reckless youth. One of our haunts was the Ontario Hotel in Crystal Beach, where as under-aged kids, we could buy a beer with a ridiculously unconvincing fake I.D. The live entertainment, the big draw at that hotel, was two musicians billed as “Rod & Roger”. One guy played the organ and the other played the accordion, and they were abysmal. The funniest part about Rod & Roger was that, in front of the organ, there was a sign listing over 50 popular songs that they could play by request. Those included songs by the Rolling Stones and Led Zeppelin. You haven’t lived until you’ve heard “Whole Lotta Love” played on the accordion. It felt good to re-connect with an old friend who knew me in my ill-spent youth.

Another guy I called last week is Edmond Simmons, a client to whom I used to deliver meals when I volunteered for Meals On Wheels in Buffalo, NY. He and I became unlikely friends over the many years I delivered meals to him. I suppose it was his indomitable spirit that drew me to him. I don’t ever remember Edmond complaining about anything, and his life was far from perfect. He used to have a good job as an engineer, working at the Buffalo Zoo, but he was fired when his employers suspected he was drinking on the job. In fact, Edmond was experiencing the undiagnosed beginning stages of Multiple Sclerosis, and his lack of coordination was due to neurological attacks, not inebriation. By the time he was diagnosed, he was confined to a wheelchair and struggling to keep his head above water. We had a strange and dysfunctional relationship. While we were only in each other’s company for about ten minutes, once per week, we would spend most of that time light-heartedly insulting each other. I suppose anyone within earshot, would have presumed we didn’t get along. Quite to the contrary, we had a healthy respect for each other. Edmond has an unquenchable thirst for knowledge and he is an interesting character who is a hero to me for his strength and positive attitude. I’ve only kept in touch with him sporadically since I moved to Canada in ’94. When I spoke to him last Friday, his condition had worsened to the point where he could hardly talk. I was concerned that the virus might take him out, but in fact, I think it will probably be the MS.

Regardless of the bad news about this seemingly out of control pandemic, none of us has a crystal ball to predict our fate. I for one have been oblivious to my mortality for most of my life. It may be time to reset, regroup, and reconsider my priorities. I’ve certainly been doing a lot of soul searching in the past few weeks. I ponder my mortality far more now than I did when I was rocking out to “Jumpin’ Jack Flash” performed by an accordion player with a mullet in a Crystal Beach dive bar. Back then, I was invincible. I was, I thought, immortal.

So that we could take care of her and be together as a family, last week, I drove Shauna’s 95 year-old mom “ET” up from Toronto to stay with us until the pandemic settles down. The other night, I had an anxiety attack, overwhelmed by my concern about how to keep my family safe. A million apprehensions flooded my mind, and the anxiety from which I sometimes suffer, went into overdrive. As I do when that happens, I did some deep breathing exercises and remembered all the good things in my life. I thought about Shauna, Edmond, Bob, Scott, and all the other old friends and loved ones who have touched my life. I am going to re-connect with more of them over the next few weeks.

Finally, I end this report with the acknowledgement that I am thankful for this community, for all the music lovers who live in it, and for dozens of other things as well. Maybe I just didn’t go through the process of verbalising it before. I think it is appropriate that, playing on Hunters Bay Radio at this very moment, is Cake’s cover of “I Will Survive”. Indeed, I’m going to do my best, and so should you all. Follow the directives outlined by health experts, and remember to show your love to your family, your friends, and your neighbours. When you post on social media platforms, be mindful of the messages you send. If ever there was a time to be the best you can be, it’s right now. Fear and ignorance are your enemies.

We’re all on the same train. I’m going to try my best to enjoy the scenery as we barrel down the tracks.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer ©2020 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED jamieoppenheimersongwriter@gmail.com

The Oppenheimer Report 3/16/20

As a 64-year-old baby boomer, I have never lived through a crisis such as the one we are now experiencing. That said, I do recall the panic during the Cuban Missile Crisis back in the 60s. As a little boy, I vaguely remember participating in a classroom drill wherein we were all instructed to hide underneath our desks when a fire alarm sounded. Having seen video of a nuclear explosion, I wasn’t exactly sure how hiding underneath a 1” thick fiberglass desk, supported by flimsy aluminum tube legs was going to do me much good, but I did what the adults told me to do. Many of my friends’ parents had bomb shelters in their basements. I don’t remember any of them having toilets.

The thing that caught me by surprise when this Corona Virus epidemic made the headlines was the immediacy of the panic. I suppose I’ve been complacent, or so distracted by the constant reminder of all that is wrong with mankind. I suppose the conditions were “dry” enough so that just one match was all it took. It seems as if the uncertainty created by this latest epidemic, exacerbated by bad leadership, a record stock market crash, the way information (and misinformation) is disseminated instantly these days, and the fear that there could be a lot of unknown carriers inadvertently causing “community spread” of the virus, has made many of us anxious, fearful, and in some cases downright unhinged. What is abundantly clear, and becomes more so as I grow older, is the fact that, for the most part, we human beings are not anywhere near as in control of our destinies as we would like to imagine. We never have been. Yes, we are experiencing an existential threat from climate change, and greenhouse gases are absolutely making things worse. Mankind has, by the way, had a history of ignoring the laws of nature. My nephew who works for NOAA, and is the designated meteorologist in our family, suggests that global warming is cyclical and irreversible. Regardless of our propensity to hasten it, it will happen. What is most distressing is our inability to be universally proactive about it. Disease is also nothing new. The Bubonic Plague, The Spanish Flu, Polio, Smallpox, and most recently AIDS and The Ebola Virus, have collectively wiped out millions of people around the world.

I find it interesting that, after all the bad news about the tendency of history to repeat itself – and make no mistake, there has been nothing but bad news since this new decade began – we find ourselves threatened by something that is not of our own making. This virus is, for the time being, something for which we were unprepared. Perhaps in some way we screwed up, perhaps it was unsanitary conditions in that Wuhan live market that unleased it. Perhaps it is climate change that facilitates these opportunistic viruses, I have no idea. Maybe the most intelligent scientists in the world don’t know. I guarantee you Wolf Blitzer doesn’t. Given the interconnected nature of all events, it is likely at least in part our fault. What I do know is that for most of my life I have lived in opposition to nature. Only recently have I begun to recognize the consequences of my ignorance about the science of ecology. I am more respectful of that science now that I once was.

I have experienced the worst mankind has to offer, it’s drummed into my head every day. I have also observed us at our heroic best. World War II heroes sacrificed their lives to stop Hitler’s evil madness, Louis Pasteur paved the way for the development of prophylactic vaccines, Alexander Fleming invented penicillin, an antibiotic that probably saved billions of lives over the next 90 years. An East Indian man is walking around on the streets of Toronto handing out hand sanitizer to strangers. Firemen and first responders routinely risk their lives for people who take their heroism for granted. History is full of heroic individuals who swim upstream against the white waters of “human nature” to prove that we are better than our worst instincts. In Toronto, researchers have isolated the COVID-19 virus, the first step in discovering a treatment and eventually a vaccine. I am hopeful that in some convoluted way, this latest crisis will break the cycle of universal divisiveness, something which is of our own making. Stop blaming your incompetent leaders (whom we elected) and incubate real ones. Show your children how to love, fight ignorance; find and listen to the intelligent, reasonable people among us who may be our best hope for survival. This virus won’t kill us all, but fear, ignorance, and hysteria eventually will. I’ve made plenty of ignorant mistakes in my life, but if, heaven forbid, I should die tomorrow, I want to be remembered as the guy who was responsible for more good than harm. I don’t want to go down is history as the scammer who advertised a cure for COVID-19, or that greedy bonehead who sold a roll of toilet paper for $10. Listen to your health care experts and don’t panic. Epidemics like this affect everyone, from all walks of life. It is natural to be concerned, maybe even scared, but maybe from this crisis heroes will emerge. I could use a little good news about human nature! Stay safe out there, wash your hands, try not to touch your face, and remember, patience, human kindness and generosity are the only antidotes to the ignorant nonsense we see and hear all around us.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report - 3/9/20

To extrapolate from several other articles I have written recently, the subject of today’ rant is stress. With all the news about the ever-growing epidemic of COVID-19, and the seemingly endless reporting on scandal and indecent behavior by American politicians and celebrities, I sense my stress growing. Humour has always been my go-to remedy for this, and it is the reason I began writing this weekly report in 1992. The reports began as a therapeutic exercise in poking fun at the omnipresent barrage of bad news. Back when I started writing the Oppenheimer Report, I lampooned the Savings and Loan crisis, religious zealots who were cheating their flock, and the general misbehavior of celebrities. I had a field day with Rump, who was at the time divorcing his first wife Ivana. Sometimes, the only think we can do is laugh at this nonsense. Writing these reports was cathartic for me, and it still is. One of the many things that attracted me to my lovely wife Shauna is that she is very funny and as well she appreciates my occasionally deviant sense of humour. While we were still courting, she drove all the way down from Toronto to Buffalo, rented a gorilla costume, and showed up at my place of work in disguise to surprise me on my birthday. How many other women would do that?

If ever we needed a little humour in our lives it is right now. The stock market is plummeting, and the double whammy of economic uncertainty and an apparent global lack of leadership has me twirling my beard constantly. As Shauna and I sometimes do, we were browsing Facebook together, and we saw something that gave us both a belly laugh.  On the page of one of her cousins was a post reporting that the U.S., and perhaps other countries as well, have declared a ban on travel to Iran. I suppose that is due to the dangerous spread of the COVID-19 virus there, and while that is not funny in and of itself, somebody sarcastically commented underneath that message (and I paraphrase): “There go my plans for Spring Break in Iran!” Sometimes the only way to deal with bad news is to laugh.

Last week, I wrote a tongue in cheek report about the above-mentioned preponderance of bad news. While my inclination to be in denial is growing, that has negative side effects. I tend to internalize the bad information, but even if I try to ignore it, that information has a way of taking root in my subconscious. Apparently, that doesn’t just happen to me. The other night, we were watching some vacuous, amusing, non-news reality television, and I was astounded by an ad that came on. It started out “Do nothing for fifteen seconds ..” and there was the image of leaves on a tree, and an icon that changed colour as fifteen seconds passed.  It was an ad for a free phone app that is designed to calm the user down. Call me a 64-year-old Luddite, but do I really need my cell phone to remind me to calm down? Isn’t that a little like putting the fox in charge of the henhouse? I feel the same way about this as I do about a watch that reminds me that I’m a lazy slug. I understand that all these applications and programs for the computer are probably the way of the future, and possibly even helpful and therapeutic, but at what point does common sense come into play here?

As the orange turd, my walking talking Commander-In-Tweet, spouts off his latest ignorant rant on one of the countless subjects about which he is profoundly ill-equipped to comment, and as we lemmings blindly approach the cliff of no return, assuming some adult is in charge, I suggest watching “Big Brother”. I do not think there is a better human barometer for where we are headed. Perhaps if we stop using the application on our phones which automatically turn the lights off in our house, we won’t need the watch to tell us that we’re being lazy. If you’re stressed out, listen to your body. I suggest you take a break, take a few deep breaths, find something about which to laugh, and dream about pina coladas on the shores of the Persian Gulf. I’m told Iran is lovely this time of year, if you can get there.


Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 3/2/20

A couple of years ago, I was in downtown Huntsville, and I bumped into my friend Bill Stewart. He needed a ride across town to pick up his car, which was in the shop, and I was happy to oblige. As we were driving, I asked him if he was working on any musical projects. He told me he wanted to record a song in the style of Pink Floyd. Coincidentally, I’d just finished writing a song that I thought might fit that bill, and we agreed that we should record my song “Milkman”. Eventually we did so, and like every song I record with a new producer, it was an interesting journey.  Bill is a great guitar player and sound engineer and I was pleased with the overall results of our recording.  More importantly, I think we both derived something positive from the experience. I mention that song because it is about denial, and the issue of denial has been on my mind a lot over the past few months. I’m approaching the point where I no longer want to see or hear the news.

Last weekend, on Saturday Night Live, Michael Che made a joke on the “Weekend Update” segment regarding the comedic perils of joking about COVID-19, a.k.a. the Corona Virus. Che said he was afraid to make light of the epidemic, for fear that, if he contracted the virus, every network would replay his (then) ironic jokes. Throughout the day my wife listens to HBR with one ear and CNN with the other. I kid Shauna that she is addicted to CNN, which I now call TBNC, “The Bad News Channel”. In fact, most of news I watch and read these days is bad news. I guess good news doesn’t sell advertising.  By the way, does almost everyone who watches CNN have Mesothelioma, or some rare skin disease, or bladder problems?  Based on their advertisers, CNN’s target audience appears to be mostly sick people. Anyhow, I was channel surfing the other night and came across a news network which was reporting nonstop Corona Virus coverage. I got sucked in and binge-watched for at least 15 or 20 minutes, before I realized that I was getting palpably upset. The problem with too much (questionable) information is that I don’t know what to do with it. It’s one thing to be apprised of world events, but if one feels helpless to control any of the problems of the world, it can become very discouraging. I don’t know how they expect to contain and control the spread of the virus when it has already infected people in ¾ of the world. Shauna chided me, because she wanted me to turn back to the bad political news channel, but I stood firm in my resolve to watch the Corona Virus Channel. It won’t be long before every disastrous news event will have a channel dedicated to it. I wonder if CNN will develop Corona Virus theme music, like the theme music they developed for the O.J. trial. Can you imagine putting that on your resume as a composer? Oh yes, I wrote the music for the Huggies commercials that aired in the spring of 2013, and I was also the composer of the CNN Corona Virus theme.

So, I wrote the song “Milkman” about denial. The lyrics are cryptic, but the first verse has to do with the first time I saw an adult crying in distress; how I processed that. The second verse has to do with my denial over a friend’s drug addiction problem, and the third verse is about U.S. foreign policy in Libya, when the U.S Embassy there was attacked. The chorus asks the question I increasingly ask myself: will I bury my head in the sand? I’m not proud of my denial, but sometimes it’s the only thing that gets me through the day. It’s easy to get overwhelmed by the negative spin, and it is a self-fulfilling prophecy. The older I get, the harder it is to keep the plates spinning. It’s difficult to imagine how we’re going to achieve all those utopian ideals for a better society when there are a thousand mutually exclusive interests vying for power. I can’t control the spread of divisiveness; I can only be mindful and wary of my contribution to it. My motto is simple: try to do more good than harm. The world becomes a little more comforting when I break it down that way. Be mindful of my own actions towards my fellow human beings (and all living things) and try not to sweat about the seemingly unchangeable nature of man. Maybe if I stop watching CVC (The Corona Virus Channel), I will be better prepared to face the day. It is a constant struggle to check that stop-and-watch-the-train-wreck side of me. I’m going to try to limit myself to only 5 minutes of the The Ebola Virus Channel tonight. Baby steps.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer  ©2020  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 2/24/20

Years ago, Buck Marshall, one of my musical mentors, brought over a few albums for me to hear. I guess he thought I needed a little education in the Country and Bluegrass categories. Buck's opinion was that someone arrogant enough to host a radio show about those he considers to be good songwriters, should not be myopic in his musical tastes. While I did enjoy Country Rock, I’d never explored the more traditional Country and Bluegrass genres. I welcomed the education, and over the past few years, Buck and others have apprised me of some really great music. Among the first CDs, Buck gave me Willie P. Bennett’s seminal “Blackie And The Rodeo King” album, Stephen Fearing’s “Between Hurricanes”, and 2 albums by Blackie and the Rodeo Kings, a band that took its name from that legendary Willie P. Bennett album. I have since become a huge fan of theirs.

Several years ago, Shauna Leigh Taylor and I were fortunate enough to see #BlackieAndTheRodeoKings perform live at Massey Hall in Toronto. While we had already been fans for years, it was an entirely different experience to see and hear the band perform their music before our eyes. The concert was inspirational, and when it was over, we literally floated out of that hall 6 inches off the ground. When the opportunity presented itself to see the band again, this time during their 25th anniversary tour in nearby #Huntsville, we were among the very first people to purchase tickets. Saturday night, we were front row centre for the magic as #BARK electrified the Algonquin Theatre for what will likely go down as our favourite concert of the year.

After Attawapiskat, Ontario singer/songwriter Adrian Sutherland (of the Adrian Sutherland & Midnight Shine band) opened the show with several of his original tunes, there was quite a lengthy intermission, affording Shauna and I the time to mingle with some of our fellow concert goers, and we were surprised to hear how many attendees had never before seen the Rodeo Kings perform. Knowing how good their live show is, we were excited to be in an audience that was about to have their socks blown off. The band did not disappoint.

In their music, I hear so many influences. Artists like JJ Cale and Buddy Holly, Lonnie Mack, and a dozen other major musical powerhouses, inhabit their rich melody lines, their well-crafted lyrics, and those beautiful harmonies. Like all great musicians and songwriters, Blackie And The Rodeo Kings pay homage to their influences without aping them. Colin Linden, Stephen Fearing, and Tom Wilson (LeE HARVeY OsMOND), are all excellent songwriters in their own right. When you add their distinctive singing voices, Colin Linden’s incomparable guitar skills, and their first class rhythm section, this band can only be described as world class. I’ve long admired the songwriting skills of Stephen Fearing and Tom Wilson, and now, after having seen Colin Linden perform just 10 yards away from me, I have now dubbed him “The Blackie And The Rodeo Kingpin”. I have a newfound respect for his energy and showmanship. I’m not at all surprised that Colin Linden recently received a Recording Academy / GRAMMYs Award for his production skills. The band made it look fun and easy, and their passion is contagious. During one jam, in the second half of the show, Linden just kept dialing it up, and the band spontaneously formed into a tight circle, building and building until they had the entire audience pulsing in unison. By the end of the song, the audience erupted into a standing ovation. Shauna and I agree that this band, as a unit, is one of the most entertaining and highly-skilled acts we've ever seen.

At the end of the show, for the first time, Shauna and I had the opportunity to meet and converse with the three founding members of the band and I found myself a little starstruck. They all had wonderful things to say about #HuntersBayRadio and thanked the station and its hosts for all the support with which we're providing them. In fact, during the performance, Tom Wilson noticed Shauna had her Hunters Bay Radio jacket draped across her legs, and he gave the station a hearty shout out, sparking a round of applause from the audience members. That was a thrill for all of us "88.7FMily" members in attendance. Thanks to the Huntsville Festival of the Arts for bringing the brilliant Blackie And The Rodeo Kings to town. What a great show it was! I’ll be buzzing all week. Like Shauna said: "DON'T MISS YOUR CHANCE to be MOVED & GROOVED by the mega-multi-talented BLACKIE AND THE RODEO KINGS. If you're lucky, they'll be BARKing up a tree, perhaps in YOUR neck of the woods." https://blackieandtherodeokings.com/tour/

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer ©2020
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
jamieoppenheimersongwriter@gmail.com

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 feature of Hunters Bay Radio, The Bay 88.7FM.

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