The Oppenheimer Report 4/24/17

A few days ago, I got a letter from my lawyer in Buffalo regarding some family matters, and at the end of the letter she complained a bit about the Buffalo Sabres. The team hasn’t made the playoffs in a long time, they’ve been such a disappointment, etc. When I lived in Buffalo, my family held seasons tickets to Sabres games, from the very beginning of the franchise. My dad was friends with one of the owners of the team, and one of my uncles sat on the Board of Directors. As a kid, I went to a lot of the home games, back when guys like Tim Horton and Eddie Shack were on the team. I remember the glory days when “The French Connection” was one of the hottest lines in the NHL. I remember Jim Lorenz swatting a bat out of the air with his stick during a Stanley Cup finals game with the Flyers. That Flyers series was (I believe) one of two times the Sabres ever made it to the Stanley Cup finals. They’ve never won the cup, and it doesn’t look like they’re going to anytime soon. Over the 40+ years that I have been following the team, there have been a lot of hopeful moments, and a boat load of heartache.  

I used to joke with other hockey fans that I was a glutton for punishment, because for over three decades I was a Sabres fan, and then I moved to Toronto and evolved into a Leafs fan. I finally turned into a fan back in the mid to late nineties, after realizing how crazy, supportive, and enthusiastic the Leafs fans were. After a long drought, the Leafs made the first round of the playoffs one year, and there was a huge party on Yonge Street. People were hanging out of cars hand-painted with the Leafs’ logo and colors, there was dancing in the streets, there were zany fans dressed in crazy Leafs costumes; there was elation. It was exhilarating to see. Here was one of the oldest NHL teams, in one of Canada’s biggest cities, it had been struggling near the bottom of the league for a long time, and still the home games always sold out. There will always be Toronto Maple Leafs fans.   

I spoke to a good friend from Buffalo (a Sabres supporter) last night, after the Leafs lost Game 6 in overtime to the league-leading Washington Capitals. He was impressed with the team. Nobody expected this young Leafs team to give the Caps a run for their money, but they sure did. Every single game of the series went into overtime, and it really could have gone either way each game. More important, the Leafs seemed to be on fire, and they never gave up. Of course, I wanted the team to win, but I was also happy to see them giving it all they’ve got. It might have been the best, most exciting playoff series I have ever watched, involving a team I support. For the first time since I began following this team, I’m very excited about their future. I think they’re the youngest team in the league and they will do nothing but grow.

To be a fan of any professional sports team, one must learn to accept defeat. No matter how good a team is, they will eventually lose games. I love watching the underdog prevail, t gives me hope. Sometimes fans must wait a long time, decades, for their moment of glory. Ask a Cubs fan. It’s tough to stick by a team that has been bad for so long, but I really think maybe the Leafs are finally going in the right direction. It couldn’t happen in a more supportive city than Toronto. I spoke to my best friend in Buffalo and I told him that my lawyer had sold her last home game Sabres tickets to a couple of Leafs fans. He felt that was betrayal, and that a real fan would not support the opposing team by selling tickets to their fans. I’m still a closet Sabres fan, and probably always will be. Buffalo is my hometown. I think Toronto should be proud of their Leafs, maybe for the first time in a long time. No matter who we root for, there will always be pain. That said, I’m always  looking forward to the next season.

 -Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2017 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/17/17

A belated Happy Easter to all my gentile friends, and a Happy Passover to all my fellow Jews. Yom Kippur and Passover are my two favorite Jewish holidays because they involve suffering. On Yom Kippur, a day of atonement, we Jews fast from sundown to sundown, and on Passover, we eat disgusting foods like gefilte fish and matzo for a little over a week. As far as suffering goes, I think the gefilte fish wins the prize, and I don’t think it is even one of the foods meant to symbolize hardship. Gefilte fish has the consistency of Jell-o; fish Jell-o is not something I want to put in my mouth. As a child, I used to loathe Seder suppers, because some well-meaning aunt would always insist I try “just one bite.” To boot, gefilte fish is as revolting to look at as it is to eat. It looks like doughy, beige, cellulite-riddled, thigh fat.

Sadly,  Dr. Joe Greenberg, a good friend of ours, passed away last Tuesday at the ripe old age of 95. Though I have not seen Joe in years, I used to write him from time to time, and Shauna and I spoke to him semi-regularly on the phone. The last time we spoke to “Dr.Joe,” as he was affectionately known by his patients and friends, was on the phone last summer. He sounded weak, but that did not stop him from telling a silly joke, or expressing genuine interest in our lives. Regrettably, we could not attend his funeral in Toronto, but I am not surprised that it was very well-attended. To follow are a few thoughts about this remarkable and popular man for whom I grew to care so deeply.

I first met Joe Greenberg and his wife Pepi in Toronto, at our wedding in 1994. His brother Dave’s wife is a first cousin to Shauna’s mom E.T., and the Greenberg and the Taylor families were very close. I grew to know Joe over the next several years, when I saw him at family events, or when, on occasion, he provided medical care for Shauna. While he was not our primary physician, his office was near our apartment in Toronto, and when one of Shauna’s many chronic illnesses would flair up, Joe was kind enough to see us on a moment’s notice. He was one of a handful of general practitioners left in Toronto who really sacrificed everything for his patients. He had what so many doctors today lack: great bedside manner, and he was one of an even smaller number of doctors who still made house calls. He was a great doctor, well-respected within the medical community, and yet he was also a humble man. His obituary describes in detail some of Joe’s finer achievements (http://www.legacy.com/obituaries/thestar/obituary.aspx?n=h-joseph-greenberg&pid=185066972), but for me, Joe was most notable for his unfailing love of most human beings. He was one of the kindest and most generous men I have ever met.

To sit in the waiting room of Dr. Joe’s office on Bathurst St. near College St. was an adventure in people watching. Patients from all walks of life packed his little office every day, many without appointments. When you were one of Joe’s patients, you became a part of his family. He’d come out of his office to call in the next patient, and engage all of us in his conversations. He was the brightest light in the room. Inevitably, patients would end up talking to each other in that waiting room, and there was always something new to learn about Joe’s many acts of kindness. When we were finally alone with him in his office, he always made us feel like we were his best friends, grilling us about personal details of our lives; always making us feel special. He told us stories about his past, he told jokes, he was warm and ingratiating; but he was an effective doctor as well. Clearly, Joe believed that compassion was part of the healing process, and I can’t think of any doctors who knew as much about or cared as much for his patients.

I watched a video on Facebook the other day, because tributes to this wonderful man are popping up all over the internet. Taped about five years ago, the interview deals with Joe’s experiences during WWII. In it he discussed six neighborhood boys who went off to fight in Europe, including himself. Only he and one other young man survived to return home. He cries during the video, and his grief is a palpable expression of the grief of all his fellow veterans. One of the many things I loved about Joe was that he wasn’t afraid to express his emotions. Stoicism may be widely considered to be a masculine trait, but I think Joe embodied the best qualities in any great man. In a world where our Commander-In-Tweet churns out ill-considered insults like a spoiled ten-year-old, Joe was the silent, cheerful hero. He was the real deal. Modest, intelligent, eloquent, funny, compassionate, kind; loving; Joe was a blessing to all who knew him.

They say it is meaningful and a great honour when a Jew’s death falls on a high holy day. My beloved father-in-law Syd passed on the eve of Yom Kippur. Dr. Joe died during Passover. I think he’d just had enough of the gefilte fish. Goodbye, my dear friend.  
 
Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2017 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

The Oppenheimer Report 4/10/17

As I sit here Sunday night to begin this week’s report, I am listening to Ella Fitzgerald sing a Cole Porter tune on the Hunters Bay Radio Sunday night Martini Music show. Always trying to expand my musical horizons, I am learning to appreciate great songwriting in all genres of music. Besides, I feel somewhat compelled to listen to Martini Music, considering that the host, my 92 year-old mother-in-law Ethel “E.T.” Taylor, is presently visiting us for a few weeks. Today was one of those idyllic, early spring days, during which the mercury climbed above 60F degrees, and the sun burned away the blues (and grays). E.T. sat out in front of the house, in full view of the slowly melting frozen lake, armed with a cup full of seeds to feed the birds. I zapped into town on the ATV to give it an “Italian tune-up” (high-revving run to blow out the carburetor) and to buy some groceries. I then took Jasper for a long walk to sniff the newly uncovered winter debris. Nothing says “spring” like soggy, rotting vegetation. Our next door neighbors were up from Toronto to begin opening up their cottage. Spring Fever is in the air.

Last Saturday night, Shauna and I attended a concert in Huntsville, marking the release of local singer/songwriter Christina Hutt’s first EP. I first met Christina a few summers ago, at an outdoor concert in Huntsville. She was about to play an open mic at one of the local pubs, and, buoyed by the encouragement and mentoring from some established Canadian artists like Rita Chiarelli and Katherine Wheatley, she was eager to perform in public. At the time, I remember thinking to myself that her enthusiasm would soon be tempered. From my experiences, I’ve grown cynical whenever I see an emerging, hopeful musician.  When I finally did hear her sing, weeks later, I realized Christina has something special. Her tone, her vibrato, and her delivery are spellbinding.

The concert began with an improvisational set by Jack Nickalls on acoustic guitar, using a looping pedal to double track his music. Jack is the very talented fifteen year-old son of Grant Nickalls, Hunters Bay Radio weekday morning show host (and local actor/celebrity), and he is rapidly becoming a great guitarist. Particularly noteworthy to me was his jam on the bass riff to Ray Charles’ Hit The Road Jack. It was inspired, and it really set the tone for the rest of the evening. Next up was James Gray, producer of Christina’s new EP. Having toured all across Canada and parts of Western Europe, and recently back from a musical tour of Australia, James has over the past several years developed a stage presence that elevates his performances to the level of a seasoned professional. He forges a real connection with his audiences, and it is only through the experience of touring and interacting with audiences that one creates this connection. I didn’t feel it two years ago, when I first saw him play, but last Saturday night, I knew I was watching a pro.

Next up was Christina, accompanied by James on guitar, and the very talented Marion Linton on violin. Marion is featured on the new EP (as well as many other local and probably national recordings) and she adds so much to the production of every song to which she contributes. Christina’s set was lovely, hypnotizing in fact. It included a few covers, as well as all the original songs from her new EP. I knew she was prepared, but she exceeded my wildest expectations. For Shauna and me, it is always rewarding to watch local artists develop over time. Christina is probably the most improved local artist I’ve had the pleasure to follow, and I’ve been fortunate enough to work with her on more than one occasion.  The very first time I saw her perform, she was shy and a little awkward on stage, but once she began to sing, she was riveting.  Still, an artist needs more than raw talent to attract a following, and the woman I saw perform at Trinity United Church last Saturday night, accompanied by two seasoned musicians, had reached a new benchmark. She was developing what James has: a connection with the audience. Although I really have nothing to do with her improvement, I felt the same pride welling up that I feel when I see any artist who so obviously develops their performing skills. Christina’s new EP is available through Hunters Bay Radio, and probably online as well. I look forward to the day when one or a few of these emerging local talents attracts some national and international attention. Christina Hutt could be one of those artists.                      -  Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2017 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED      

The Oppenheimer Report 4/3/17

I had an email from one of my readers (and sometime listener to the radio show) who’d read last week’s rant about design flaws. He suggested that I scrap the Honda touch screen radio and go buy an after-market unit that was more user-friendly. Were that it was so simple! My old car came equipped with a stackable CD player, which meant that one could load as many as six discs into the unit at one time. While it worked fine for many years, it was problematic as well and eventually froze up, with a CD stuck in the unit.  I was told that in some newer cars, it can be a problem to install after-market players. I took it to a guy up here and he installed a very simple but effective Kenwood unit, which served me very well for the next two and one half years. The sound was noticeably better than the original factory-installed unit, and it included a blue tooth connection that allowed me to run my cell phone through it, as well as a stereo jack to accept auxiliary players. I could then play my field recorder in my car and hear live concerts I’d recorded over the car stereo. These features are standard with a lot of cars today, but back in 2006, they were not. I really miss that after-market Kenwood. If and when I keep this new Honda longer than the stereo lasts, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to replace it easily, because the unit is tied in with the onboard navigation system.

Let me for a moment talk about GPS technology. Troglodyte that I am, I got along just fine with a road map for the majority of my driving career. As a real estate broker in Western New York, I also had some fairly detailed city maps which I could consult when I was in an unfamiliar part of town. I purchased my first GPS, a Garmin, after I moved up to Toronto. It was fairly easy to use (i.e luddite-friendly) and I did find the technology helpful. That said, it was not entirely reliable, and directed me to more than one dead end. It helps to have a general  idea where your destination lies before you rely on the GPS. As well, sometimes territories re-develop, and the unit then needs to be updated. My second GPS unit was a TomTom and it was entirely UNsatisfactory. Equipped with voice activated technology, that TomTom was a piece of computerized crap. It required constant time-consuming updates on the computer, and was hard to program. One day, I was driving along Hwy 401, one of Toronto’s busiest and most congested highways, and the unit went completely berserk. It froze, and began to make a distracting noise, rather like a damaged CD. There I was, on a busy highway, and I couldn’t even get the thing to turn off! I came very close to throwing it out the window.  I have never had much luck with voice-activated controls. Shauna’s car has that feature for making phone calls, but it hardly ever works properly.

Further to my discussion last week about design flaws, and labor-saving technology which is anything but, I watched a segment on The Daily Show With Trevor Noah, which made me chuckle. They did a bit on the oxymoron of “smart technology”, ranting about silly unneccessary applications that are designed to improve our lives. There is apparently a hair brush now, equipped with some kind of sensor to alert the user when he or she is brushing too vigorously. An alarm sounds,  warning the user to brush more gently. Perhaps we have reached the tipping point here. Who needs this? That comedy bit summed up the way I feel about much of this high tech nonsense. There has been a lot of talk in the media over the past month about surveillance technology and computer hacking. I have known for a long time that hackers can get into my computer and steal my deepest darkest secrets. Now I have learned that hackers can spy on me using my computer camera or a myriad of other computer operated devices. I still don’t understand how it possible to spy on someone using a microwave oven, but admittedly, I am not the brightest person when it comes to technology. There are applications on smart phones that will allow the user to interface with the alarm systems on their homes, turn on their lights, program their PVR s, etc. While all of these things may sound remarkable, as one computer expert suggested, anything that employs computer technology to control something else remotely can be hacked. How would you feel if you tried to disable your security alarm system and someone had changed the password, or better yet, locked you out of your house?
Almost everything is run by computers now, and this should be of concern to everyone.

It is becoming increasingly clear that hackers from some country - and sorry Donald, it probably was Russia – interfered or tried to interfere with the American elections. A teenager in Markham, Ontario somehow managed to hack into the Canada Revenue Agency a few years ago. Look at all the havoc WikiLeaks has wreaked by releasing sensitive information on a number of governments around the world. Maybe I’ve been watching too much Mr. Robot, but I am concerned. When it comes down to who has the smartest hackers, I’m not entirely confident that a country that willingly elected Donald Trump will be the ones to protect us from cyber-attacks. When I look at all the things going wrong with computer technology today, it makes me want to tear my hair out. Then again, I won’t even be able to do that, because my computerized hair brush will sound an alarm if I try.

Written by Jamie Oppenheimer c 2017 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED