Editorial: Talbot County’s other Food Hub

If residents have heard anything about a food hub lately in Talbot County, it is more than likely they are thinking about the rather ingenious idea of providing local, small acreage farmers with a distribution center to jointly sell their produce competitively to national wholesalers.

While it seems reasonable that this form of cooperative commerce should be entitled the title of the Talbot County “Food Hub,” it might be best to come up with an imaginative term for Talbot’s other food hub – that being its restaurants, cafes, coffee houses, specialty shops, farmers markets, and high-quality grocery stores.

And food hub means that every day of the year, a certain percentage of the fine people of Kent, Queen Anne’s, Caroline and Dorchester Counties, decide to get in their cars for the 30 to 50-minute ride to Talbot County for its surprisingly large and diverse food scene.

From picking up fresh produce, grabbing some sushi, or finding a venue for such important celebratory moments as anniversaries and milestone birthdays, the surrounding Mid-Shore counts on Talbot County to play that role.

When one pauses to ponder how far Talbot has grown since the days when the Rustic Inn in the Talbottown Shopping Center was the bee’s knees, with its generous supply of mini bread loafs and unlimited butter, it is a stunning example of what a food revolution actually means.

There are more than a few local heroes to thank for this remarkable turn of events. Early pioneer Amy Haines at Out of the Fire immediately comes to mind, as do the excellent team that brought us the Railway Market in the late 1970s. But the list is long, including the likes of the innovative Masthead in Oxford in the 1980s, the Inn at Perry Cabin in St. Michaels in the 1990s, or the opening of Scossa on Washington Street.

And this tradition is continuing in the 2000s with the likes of a Bartlett Pear, Rise-Up Coffee, Lyon Distilling Company, Gina’s, and more recently the charming addition of Sunflowers and Greens on Federal Street, the return of the sports bar with The Barn in Easton, or Trappe’s new hip BBQ Smokehouse.

There are certainly still some remaining gaps in the Talbot County portfolio. We still are lacking a serious bread company, Thai or Indian options don’t exist, we don’t have a food truck culture yet, and we lack an organization committed to significantly expand local produce in our community schools and food-assistance programs.

However, none of these seem outside the world of possibility as Talbot grows in reputation as the Eastern Shore’s best incubator climate for food entrepreneurs of all kinds.

All of this adds up to a remarkable moment in Talbot County’s economic history. It is this kind of regional food hub that not only allows locals to enjoy high-quality food experiences but provides an incredibly important incentive for families to come to Talbot for dining, but to coordinate those trips to take care of many of their other needs, be it from big box chains, the boutique stores on Goldsborough Street, or health and legal services. The aggregate impact of this kind of traffic is a really, really big deal now and in the future.

One simple way to show appropriation of our foodie leaders is, of course, through patronage. In short,we should all buy and eat their food. And there is no better time to start doing that with the launch Sunday of Talbot County’s annual Restaurant Week.

Participating restaurants also feature special prices and menus throughout the week. Two-course lunches will be available for $20.16 while three-course dinners are priced at $35.16.

And perhaps before every dinner starts this the week, we might also remember in a secular way the true meaning of the traditional Grace of “bless this food to our use and us to thy service, and make us ever mindful of the needs of others.”

Now let the meals begin.

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Editorial: Talbot Boys Next Steps

After six months of debate, history lessons, editorials, and public comment, the Talbot County Council last week made the unanimous decision to keep the Confederate Veterans Memorial, a.k.a. The Talbot Boys, on the County Courthouse lawn. It was the right decision.

It was also the right decision to ask the Talbot County community to raise funds for a similar memorial for those who served in the Union army. This need for parity is long overdue.

There were still however quite a few questions left unanswered. Who or whom would lead this effort? What organization(s) should take responsibility?  What would be the budget and on what timetable?

It is not the Talbot County Council’s job to provide those answers. They have completed their work with serious intention and input, and it now falls on our community to do their part.

And there is little doubt that the citizens of Talbot County will step up and lead this project. It can only be hoped that this will be done sooner rather than later.

More importantly, it would be a very sad lost opportunity indeed if yet another monument was erected with just names and no context to help the visitor understand the Civil War’s impact on Talbot County and its people. In short, it is hoped that with this new monument comes space for signage devoted to telling that complex story to truly appreciate the honor given to those that served.

Editorial: Look for Answers not Blame In Aftermath of Jacob Marberger’s Death

The only good news that might come out of the profoundly tragic news of WC student Jacob Marberger’s suicide this weekend is that more information will come to the surface which could prevent these sad circumstances from being repeated in the future.

Like any tragedy of this proportion, the response individually and institutionally should always be, “What could have been done to prevent this from happening?” But in Jacob’s case, this takes on a special meaning given the multitude of people, departments, and social organizations who had contact with this young man in the weeks leading to his dramatic downward spiral.

Even with the little we know, it is clear that bullying, alcohol abuse, and zero tolerance policies might have played a role in Jacob Marberger’s swing from a fully engaged campus leader to an isolated and despondent outsider. Given that this transition seemingly happened only within a matter of weeks, there is much to process here.

It seems inconceivable that Washington College will not take this self-examination very seriously. While the immediate disappearance of Jacob posed an important test for college leadership, it will now be how well the school responds in the aftermath of his suicide that will determine any long-term harm to reputation or mission.

But beyond the institutional response, one can only hope that the students who had contact with Jacob will also undertake a form of self-examination. Was there enough tolerance, enough listening, enough empathy or were there quick rushes to judge and stigmatize? Those kinds of painful questions must be considered as part of any successful healing process.

The danger in this is the impulse to play a blame game rather than participate in a learning experience. Only one person decided to end Jacob’s life, and that person was Jacob himself. The eagerness to point fingers might be predictable, but it is a wasteful exercise that needs to yield quickly to a more thoughtful analysis for both the school and all who knew him.

As Carl Jung pointed out years ago, “Condemnation does not liberate, it oppresses.” For Jacob’s sake, let that not happen here.

Editorial: The Right Call at Washington College this Week

Things have been a bit surreal in Chestertown as of late. Over the last few days, Washington College, and de facto, the town of Chestertown have been in semi-lockdown mode as law enforcement and college officials determine the risk to the community after hearing from a student’s parents that he had disappeared from their house in Pennsylvania with a firearm.

Judging risk with facts like these is an extremely hard task. The student had not made any threat to either Washington College or his fellow students, there was no history of mental illness, and his campus life has been full of participation in student government and other activities. In short, this kid showed no sign of violent impulses, and yet his parents, to their credit, were worried enough to inform the school of their son’s alarming behavior.

Based on these limited facts, the College made a very proactive and transparent decision to temporarily close the school. That was the right call for Washington College and the Chestertown community.

To close a school like Washington College is perhaps the least desirable option for decision-makers. The disruption of classes, staff, and students near the end of their fall semester would lead many an administrator to marginalize these inconclusive facts and quietly expand campus security instead of facing the logical nightmare of shutting down an institution.

And yet, smart thinking and common sense did prevail at Washington College this week. Despite the consequences of a locked-down campus, and the paranoia and foreboding it would surely cause, college leadership moved quickly to describe the circumstances of the situation at hand clearly to the community and the media.

After a few days of high alert, Washington College remains strained by the still unresolved conclusion of this incident. The school remains closed until further notice and students have been encouraged to return home until an official “all clear” notice has been sent.

As one might imagine, a more complicated story is starting to emerge about the student, and hopefully this saga might end soon.

In the meantime, it is reassuring to note how well Washington College’s new leadership team, with a new president and board chair, have done under these extremely difficult circumstances.

Chestertown Spy Editorial: Find the Local Flow Madam President

It is with delight that the greater Chestertown community welcomes Sheila Bair as the 28th president of Washington College. It must come as a tremendous relief that the last remaining glass ceiling has been broken with the appointment of Ms. Bair as the first woman to hold that position in 233 years. To be able to do so with someone as qualified and dynamic as Ms. Bair speaks volumes for the quality of the institution as it does her faith in WC’s historic mission and purpose.

As a student of Washington College, the Chestertown Spy, having watched college presidents come and go since the Daniel Gibson era of the 1960s, does have a modest observation worth sharing as President Bair prepares for her inauguration.

To start, it might be helpful to recall a few years back a poll was done of new university and college presidents after their first year in office. The study found that a high percentage of them turned out to really hate their jobs after twelve months. While that might be the experience for many in their first year of employment, regardless of the profession, it can be said that college presidents have a particularly good reason to feel this way.

For the disenchanted, it is sometimes budget issues not known during the hiring process or perhaps the sudden loss of personal privacy. Others experience the kind of fatigue normally reserved only for candidates in retail politics. And all of them seem to combat the very high, and often times unrealistic, demands of trustees, major donors, prickly faculty, and marginalized alumni. This all happens at the same time the students (and their parents) press to see more value-added results for their six-figure four-year investment. Even with a high salary and sense of professional accomplishment, those college presidents were pretty unhappy campers.

It’s hard to blame them. The stakes have become so high in higher education, even for small, rural liberal arts colleges like Washington College, that it is hard for a new college president not to feel like T.S. Eliot’s poor character Prufrock who was on track to become a “predestined failure,” as a scholar of Eliot’s work once suggested, with no roadmap to navigate these treacherous and sometimes unforgiving waters.

Of course, these men and women would have our unending sympathy if it were not the case that throughout history, at least for Washington College, there has never been a roadmap for college presidents. And it has been our observation that those who genuinely enjoy the task of setting a new, uncharted course for this institution are the ones who love their jobs the most.

From Smith to Douglass Cater, Cain to Johnny Toll, these individuals saw their tenure as a great cause rather than an assignment – they knew where they wanted to take this school. They could withstand the pettiness and folly that comes with all institutions because they saw a bigger picture in front of them. That sense of direction not only acted as a force shield against the daily irritations of leadership but created for themselves a zone of fulfillment and usefulness that results in their own personal happiness.

This phenomenon is not new and does have a name. As defined by the writer Mihály Csíkszentmihályi, it is those that have found the “flow” in their work, and thereby are “fully immersed in a feeling of energized focus, full involvement, and enjoyment in the process of the activity.”

And part of the trick for a Washington College president is to know how this must be found locally. The intertwined relationship braiding the college, the community, and the river together yields the greatest gifts when seen collectively as the source of that flow. And by grasping the power of the region’s three greatest virtues, and the importance they play in the education of a student creates sense of pride and purpose for all.

And that zone is available for all who seek it. We wish President Bair grand tidings and heroic stamina to do so.


Editorial: The Community’s Talbot Boys

As the Spy has noted before, it was inevitable that after the tragedy of Charleston and the banning of the rebel battle flag from the South Carolina statehouse grounds earlier this year, every municipality in the United States was going to take a second look at how it honors the veterans of the Confederacy. And Talbot County has not been the exception here. The 100-year-old “Talbot Boys” Memorial, which gives tribute to those who fought for the South, was an extraordinarily good candidate for this kind of scrutiny.

And scrutiny has indeed been the case. The local chapter of the NAACP has formally asked for its removal, the Star-Democrat has advocated a similar position while the Talbot County Council has had at least one open meeting on the subject. In addition, the Talbot Association of Clergy and Laity has scheduled a four-month program of events, workshops, and social gatherings built on the theme of race awareness to continue the conversation as well.

Let there be no doubt how constructive this kind of community dialog is for all who live on the Mid-Shore. While it is surprising it took a century to have a regional discussion about the appropriateness of the Talbot Boys Memorial as it stands now, this prolonged examination of the past provides an extremely useful, and perhaps even healing history lesson for all who choose to participate. Painful as such subjects are like slavery and racism, they are nonetheless collectively the elephant in the room that needs to be addressed often and with great care.

The fact that the Talbot Boys has been the catalyst for all this activity testifies to the powerful symbolism monuments have, consciously or unconsciously, in our society. While many times lost in the daily lives on those who pass these statues, they still convey the importance of history, particularly when located on the sacred grounds of a courthouse of justice.

Screen Shot 2015-08-18 at 10.01.26 AMIn the case of the Talbot Boys, the symbolism seems at first rather clear. With large initials spelling C.S.A. to indicate the Confederate States of America, the memorial lists the scores of local men who lost their lives fighting for the South. With no mention of the similar number of Talbot’s Union soldiers who were also killed, the statue welcomes the impression that Talbot County’s pride has only been reserved for the boys in gray. And by extension, this one-sided tribute could logically be seen as not only honoring the South’s veterans, but to also mourn subtly the death of the Confederate cause itself.

While there could be a legitimate debate on what that “cause” was, for the vast number of Americans living today, many of whom rely exclusively on Hollywood as their primary source for history, the only motive for the South’s secession was to preserve the institution of slavery and racism in our laws. And this consensus of opinion has enough facts behind it that any effort to formally highlight that “cause” can only be seen for many, and particularly African-Americans, only as repugnant reminder of the evil that slavery has caused humanity. It seems reasonable therefore that all of these potent symbols  should be eradicated from the public’s property.

But if only it were as simple as that. Real history inconveniently reminds us often that with the Civil War very few things were black or white or blue or gray. As our interview with local historian Russell Dashiell last week highlighted, there was perhaps no other region in the country, nor Maryland for that matter, who was more evenly divided between secessionists and unionists than the Eastern Shore. As Dashiell points out, newspapers and local elections show almost a clean 50-50 split during the lead up to the Civil War.

Adding to the complexity was the frequently seen paradox of local slave owners, or their sons, enlisting with the Union while known anti-slavery advocates felt compelled to serve in the Confederacy to support state rights. Similarly, local newspapers echoed this strange dichotomy with editorials supporting the South’s right to leave the country while being on record as abhorring slavery; others wanted Maryland to continue as a slave state but remain in the Union. In short, the Eastern Shore was profoundly conflicted on both the cause and purpose of the war.

Keeping in mind that the majority of those who held those debates were rarely candidates for military service themselves. The call for enlistment targeted teenagers and young men of Talbot County to join both sides of the war. And in the keeping with the local values of duty, loyalty, and family tradition, most of those boys had no choice in determining on which side they would serve. In the isolated world of a rural Eastern Shore town in 1861, their allegiance had been conditioned and sealed decades before they were even born.

Those Talbot boys marched into battle for the simple reason that they loved their family and their community. To attribute any other motivation would be exceedingly difficult and unconvincing. For every man that had the critical thinking skills to debate the moral or political pros and cons of a war, there were twenty to thirty illiterate and poor farm boys only doing what was expected of them.

And in that sense, those boys do need to be honored by our community. They possessed an unconditional sense of responsibility and courage that should stand out as something worthy of special acknowledgment in Talbot County. Those values were important then, and they are important now. To honor those who possessed that sense of duty, regardless of the tragically flawed thinking of their elders, is the right thing to do on the courthouse lawn.

But the same holds true for the Union’s Talbot boys. Those qualities of bravery and loyalty were equally present with those in blue uniforms. Their noticeable absence from the lawn cannot be compensated by the presence of Frederick Douglass nor any other leader of the Civil War era. Those young people had their own names and their own families. They deserve the same honor of public acknowledgment, not because of the righteousness of a cause, but because they were our community’s boys.

They were all Talbot County boys.












Editorial: The Mid-Shore’s Future Healthcare

As is the case with all small communities, words (fact or fiction) travel fast when it comes to a potential threat to nearby hospitals and medical centers. A perception of not having ready access to primary health services is troubling and stressful for many, and particularly those of retirement age. So, it wasn’t surprising to witness rumors fly from Dorchester County to Kent County on the future of the University of Maryland’s Regional Shore Health as the institution enters the final planning stage of its long-term strategic reorganization.

The issues related to the allocation of health services in rural regions is not a new one, but that doesn’t mitigate the fact that these kinds of debates strike at the very core of one’s sense of quality of life and security. As older people face the balance of their lives intertwined with ongoing medical needs, service locations and who their providers are, are not of secondary importance. Indeed, it is this kind of critical information people weigh when deciding where to retire.

With that in mind, it is understandable that even the mention of losing health services activates an instinctive response on the part of many to resist that perceived change. In a community like Chestertown, which had already lost a maternity ward to downsizing three years ago, there also had been a collective perception that what remained of services at the Chester River Health Center would be preserved. The news that this may not be the case has predictably set into motion a climate of anxiety and apprehension.

The good news is that the Regional Shore Health’s CEO Ken Kozel quickly responded to these heightened concerns and made clear this week that no final decisions had been made on how the health care organization would be reallocating services throughout its five-county market. By all accounts, including our own conversations with board trustees and staff, that statement rings true as the organization’s leaders wait for the final report from consultants and their own internal committee tasked in making recommendations to the Regional Shore Health’s governing board.

The bad news is that the hard work has just begun for Regional Shore Health’s leadership. Over the next several months, those leaders will not only determine plans based on the committee’s findings but also evaluate the tangible and intangible community health, social and economic impacts of those plans. It is hard to imagine a more challenging place for nonprofit leaders to find themselves in than at the center of what will be a very complex and difficult decision process.

In the midst of these kinds of circumstances the only adequate response for the Spy* is to provide the same kind of in-depth coverage we have applied to other regional concerns of this magnitude, including our recent work on the Conowingo Dam. Over the next few months, we plan to share with our readers a full portfolio of material and stakeholder interviews to provide the kind of information needed for any individual to make an intelligent assessment on Regional Shore Health’s options and final decisions.

The Spy believes that real public education is best served when everyone has access to the best information. That will be our job over the next few months.

* Full disclosure: The UM Regional Shore Health Foundation sponsors, in part, the Spy’s ongoing news coverage of health and addiction recovery issues on the Mid-Shore.

Op-Ed: When Is Washington College Going to Show the Love for James M. Cain

I’m throwing down the gauntlet, Washington College.

In 1934, James M. Cain shocked the nation with his best-selling The Postman Always Rings Twice, a book his biographer Roy Hoopes would call “one of the first big commercial books in American publishing.”

psotmansIn the 1946 cinema version of Postman Lana Turner and John Garfield scorched the silver screen with smouldering eroticism as they planned the murder of her immigrant husband. Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange would ignite that scene 40 years later.

Twenty years earlier, James Cain was listening to bricklayers talk as they constructed the sidewalk along Washington Avenue in Chestertown, where his father was president of Washington College. Eastern Shore dialect and “real talk” became a trademark of his dialogue.

Cain graduated from the college in 1910—he entered at 14— and went on to work as a road inspector, teacher, singer, police reporter and soldier during WWI before finding newspaper work with various publications including The Baltimore Sun where he was a protégé of H.L Mencken. He also had a brief stint as editor of the New Yorker Magazine.

During the Depression, Cain went to Hollywood to scratch out a living as a screenwriter. In the company of Raymond Chandler and William Faulkner, and encouraged by the great publisher Alfred Knopf, Cain also worked on Postman.

A year later Double Indemnity became an immensely popular serialized novel—influenced by his police reporter’s eye on a sensational 1927 murder trail—and amplified his  fame with the movie by the same name, scripted by none other than Raymond Chandler. Chandler called Cain, “Proust in dirty overalls.”

The infamous Mildred Pierce followed, along with the movie version that gave Joan Crawford her only Academy Award. HBO recently revived interest in Cain with a five-part miniseries starring Kate Winslet. The production upheld Cain’s dialogue almost verbatim.

But for decades following Cain’s last big book, it seemed as though thoughtful criticism of his work required wearing an intellectual Hazmat suit. Many critics dismissed him as a lightweight, even as a moral leper.

To noirish authors of his day, Cain represented a deformed vision of life, godless without heroes or heroic goals. Moral compasses, they felt, were buried under landscapes of obsession and depravity. His gender roles became legitimate targets for feminist’s disdain, and the shock value of his plots, from incest to adultery, seemed shopworn to a readership cynical enough to praise  Fifty Shade of Gray.

Others, however, consider James Cain a master of the Noir or “hardboiled” genre. Edmond Wilson called Cain “one of America’s poets of the tabloid murders.”

In a way, Cain hinted at an emotional-dystopian world similar to Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. His characters were never in a well-lighted place. If he’d been a musician—and he wanted to be—he might have foreshadowed punk rocker, Johnny Rotten.

Iconoclasts are usually appreciated after the sting of the whiplash subsides.

Seven months before he died in 1977 in Hyattsville, Cain granted an interview to Paris Review’s David Zinsser,  the Art of Fiction No. 69.

When asked about his writing style, specifically his dialogue, Cain answered—now famously—with his story about the bricklayers at Washington College.

“Let’s talk about this so-called style. I don’t know what they’re talking about—“tough,” “hard-boiled.” I tried to write as people talk. That was one of the first arguments I ever had with my father—my father was all hell for people talking as they should talk. I, the incipient novelist, even as a boy, was fascinated by the way people do talk. The first man I ever sat at the feet of who enchanted me not only by what he told me but by how he talked, was Ike Newton, who put in the brick walk over at Washington College, right after my father became President. My father decided we needed a new brick walk down the side of the campus instead of the boardwalk they had. …But he had Ike Newton put in a brick walk and I would sit out there while he worked, listening to him. He was a stocky man, rather nicely put together. He had a hammer with a screwdriver in the end of it that he’d tap the bricks with. Well, Ike Newton put the bricks in, gauging them with his eye, and doing a beautiful thing, and as he worked he talked. The way he’d use language! I’d go home and talk about it, to my mother’s utter horror, and to my father’s horror, too, because he was such a shot on the way people should talk. My childhood was nothing but one long lesson: not “preventative” but “preventive”; not “sort of a” but “a sort of”; not “those kind,” but “that kind” or “those kinds.” Jesus Christ, on and on and on.”

Here’s my challenge.

Washington College prides itself for its creative writing program. Scholarships and awards are offered to students promising bright talent. Authors, famous and emerging are invited to read and work with the students while recognition has been  given to alumni who have succeeded in the publishing world.

But still, Cain continues to languish as if in the company of “embarrassing family members” where even a waiter would cringe to deliver a glass of water.

And yet, he may be one Washington College’s most famous authors.

It’s too easy to dismiss Cain for his moral ambiguities, his billboard size characters or the appearance of their lack of self-reflection. In Cain’s universe, redemption was thrown off the bus at noon. Life played out in the shadows.

Why should there not be a College sponsored weekend honoring James Cain as a master of Noir fiction, who learned his craft in the classrooms of Washington College and on the streets of Chestertown?
The Folio Society writes in their introduction to The Postman Always Rings Twice:

“ Today it is seen as one of the most important crime novels of the 20th century – translated into 18 languages and listed in the Modern Library’s 100 Best Novels. Described by the New York Times as a ‘six-minute egg’, it epitomises the hardboiled roman noir.

How about it, W.C.? A Noir Weekend, a limited edition of one of his stories?

James Dissette is managing editor of the Chestertown Spy, a Washington College graduate and was awarded the school’s Sophie Kerr Prize for Literature in 1971.


Editorial: Larry Hogan’s PMT and the Chesapeake Bay

As Maryland’s General Assembly winds up its work for 2015, it is still way too early to assess Governor Larry Hogan’s overall environmental record, but it can be said that it is turning out to be something quite different from what many had predicted during the 2014 election.

During the campaign Larry Hogan was painted, quite effectively it seems, as someone who would pull many of the conservation initiatives and policies enacted during the Martin O’Malley administration. Hogan was cast as one who would be a careless steward of the Chesapeake Bay and a friend of big agriculture.

And nowhere was this more in evidence than the fate of the phosphorus management tool (PMT), Maryland’s template to have farmers reduce their use of phosphorus and limit how much manure could be used for their fields.

Many conservation organizations had good cause for concern. Hogan repeatedly vowed that he would put a freeze on the PMT rollout. The idea of railroading these hard-won policy changes, some of them taking up to eight years of planning to implement, gave rise to profound pessimism within the conservation ranks.

And yet even with a full court press on Hogan’s environmental positions, the Maryland voter didn’t seem to share the same level of worry when they elected him governor in November. Nonetheless, there remained grave concerns that the change of administrations would delay, or even eliminate, the implementation of an essential strategy to reduce nitrogen and phosphate contaminants in the Bay.

Not so surprising was the heightened anxiety after Hogan took office. The new governor, as promised, quickly imposed a moratorium on the PMT. And, just as predictably, Maryland’s environmental organizations quickly responded with attacks on Hogan and his commitment to clean up the Chesapeake Bay watershed.

The Chesapeake Bay Foundation (CBF) announced that, “Governor Hogan’s decision has hurt the rivers and streams on Maryland’s Eastern Shore.” The Clean Agriculture Coalition suggested that Hogan had “turned his back on clean water and sound science.”

Typically, the story ends there. The new governor would keep the PMT in the “policy review” freezer while conservation organizations would continue to cry foul through the media.

But the story did not end there. Within days of fulfilling his campaign obligation to put the PMT policy on review, Hogan not only immediately gathered his own policy makers to create a new plan, he invited the same organizations that had been highly critical of him to help determine its outcome.

This turn of events came as a surprise to most Chesapeake Bay stakeholders. Not only was Hogan not suffering from “willful ignorance” on the condition of the Bay, and the root causes of its pollution, he purposely sought out the opposition to resolve the issue.

Within two months, Hogan had reached agreement that a new PMT would move forward with four primary changes from the original plan:

1) Ensure adequate time for farmers to fully understand and plan for new requirements, shifting the seven-year implementation of the PMT one year later, effective 2016, with full implementation in 2022.

2) Assure agricultural producers that critical elements are available for implementation, including: markets to relocate additional amounts of manure; adequate infrastructure to handle and transport manure; and alternative uses and new technologies to begin to provide new outlets and markets for animal manures.

3) Enact a ban of additional phosphorus on soils highest in phosphorus. Fields with a soil Fertility Index Value (FIV) of 500 or greater will be banned from receiving additional phosphorus until the PMT is fully implemented.

4) Provide comprehensive information on soil phosphorus conditions statewide. Soil test phosphorus data will be collected for all farms in Maryland.This data will provide the Maryland Department of Agriculture with accurate soil fertility rates to monitor phosphorus levels and help identify potential areas to redistribute newly available manure.

Nothing earth-shattering can be detected in those modifications, and yet as a result, a real consensus was built with all interested parties to allow the implementation of the PMT to move forward.

To the credit of those participants, these organizations came out of these negotiations with high praise for Larry Hogan. CBF quickly issued a statement noting that “these revised regulations represent progress toward reducing pollution from agriculture — which we absolutely must do to protect the Chesapeake Bay and local waterways, as well as public health… We thank the Hogan Administration for listening to our concerns and trying to address them.”

Rarely do debates on the environment and bay restoration turn out happily these days.  When it does, it not only removes the toxicity and finger pointing that comes with differing views, but sets the stage for further progress down the road.  If Governor Hogan can continue this kind of leadership during his full term as governor, bipartisan support to restore the Chesapeake Bay can become a reality again.

Editorial: Acts of Forgiveness and Bishop Cook

While the entire Episcopal Church community remains profoundly shocked over Bishop Suffragan Heather Cook’s arrest last week for manslaughter after she struck and killed cyclist Thomas Palermo, Mid-Shore Anglicans are surely feeling even more acute agony since Rev. Cook had served with the Diocese of Easton before her historic appointment as Maryland’s first woman Episcopal bishop in May of 2014.

News reports indicate that the 58-year-old Cook was driving intoxicated in the Roland Park section of Baltimore on December 27 when her car hit Mr. Palerno’s bicycle from the rear. She was texting at the time of the accident. The impact caused the cyclist to be thrown directly into the windshield of Cook’s automobile before landing curbside on Roland Avenue. As confirmed by police records, Rev. Cook left the mortally wounded victim and drove instead to her home. She returned to the scene twenty minutes later.

Sadly for all, this was not the first time Rev. Cook was involved with drunk driving. In 2010, she had been arrested for driving under the influence on the Eastern Shore, when Maryland State Police found her driving with an empty bottle of liquor, several wine bottles, and two bags of marijuana in her car.

The consequences of that particular violation were remarkably modest. Rev. Cook was ordered by the court to pay a fine of $300 and received probation before judgment on the DUI charge, therefore avoiding the offense recorded in her driving record. The same kind of discretion was shown more recently by the church leadership electing not to reveal her past to the clerics and lay delegates who elected her to the post of bishop.

The motivation for both the legal system and the Episcopal Church in this case was to allow Rev. Cook the proverbial second chance. These were, in many ways, acts of institutional forgiveness which aligned closely to the values of justice and religious creeds. But should not the courts and church match these acts of compassion with common sense, non-punitive support to help Ms. Cook, and others like her, with this lifelong affliction?

Is it not reasonable in this era of enlightenment about the biological causation of this devastating disease to expect government and religion to proactively assist someone like Heather Cook in her recovery by keeping her history open and accessible? If Rev. Cook had a history of epileptic seizures, heart issues, or any other condition that could unexpectedly impact one’s ability to drive a car or cognitively function, would those same institutions not take protective measures to ensure her health and the public’s safety.

This horrific story is also how the stigma of addiction can lead to deadly consequences. The church, wanting to protect Rev. Cook’s reputation and career advancement, decided that any association with this illness was so damaging — even within an institution known for acknowledging substance addiction as a disease — silence was the only morally right course to take.

Perhaps it takes the needless death of a father of two young children to allow for a rare teachable moment to take place in Maryland. Both institutions must use this tragedy to look carefully at what forgiveness means for victims of this illness and their communities.