He epitomized grit and determination. He epitomized the value of preparation. He epitomized the potent mixture of pure athleticism and hard work to maximize natural talent. He epitomized respect for the fans.

Of course, I’m talking about Cal Ripken, Jr., the Baltimore Orioles phenom who broke on September 6, 1995 the long-held record of 2,130 consecutive games played by a Major League Baseball (MLB) player by adding “1” to a milestone that many thought would never be surpassed.

He and the baseball world celebrated nine days ago the 25th anniversary of a record that likely will go unbroken. In an era of specialization and multi-millionaire ballplayers fearful of career-ending injuries, longevity is not necessarily an aspiration.

When he played his 2,131st game on Sept. 3 against the California Angels at Oriole Park at Camden Yards near downtown Baltimore, Ripken replaced the legendary New York Yankee, Lou Gehrig, as baseball’s heralded “iron man.”

He played 501 additional games after his mountain-top experience.

In reading the recent tributes to Ripken and his memories of an unprecedented achievement, I was reminded of a constant drizzle of criticism during “The Streak”: Cal was being selfish not to sit out games when he was injured and presumably unable to contribute fully to the team’s performance.

When I heard the criticism then and ponder it now, my reaction is still the same. Hogwash.

Ripken instilled in the game a steadfast commitment to working every day to help his team, to forgo days off for plying his trade and earning his salary in an honest, dignified manner. 

He expected much of himself. Perhaps his teammates were equally conscientious because of the example he set. Maybe not. They may have considered him an unusual force of nature.

The former shortstop converted into a third-baseman is now 60-years-old. He lives in the same community in Annapolis as my daughter and family. His second wife is a circuit court judge in Anne Arundel County.

Cal Ripken has always been a gentleman who treats fans with down-to-earth humility. He’s easily likable and approachable. 

My grandchildren could care less about this large man prowling the neighborhood with his dog. My daughter and son-in-law, however, remain in awe of this MLB Hall of Famer. So do I.

Some months ago, my son-in-law was installing a make-shift tree swing for his son and daughter. The challenge, of course, entailed tossing the rope over the high limb. As my son-in-law was hurling the rope over the limb, the Ripkens walked by. Somewhat tongue-in-cheek, my son-in-law asked Cal Ripken if he would like to toss the rope (with a ball attached). He immediately said yes. His wife said no, either trying to preserve her husband’s arm or his pride

Aloofness has never been part of Ripken’s personality. A native of Aberdeen, Maryland, he’s always handled his fame with modesty and poise.

The 25th anniversary of Cal Ripken’s singular accomplishment, garnered after 13 years in the major leagues, brought back wonderful memories of the night that this remarkable athlete captivated 46,000 fans in the stands and millions watching on TV. His jog around the perimeter of the ballfield was magical. He didn’t want to do it; his teammates prodded and pushed him to do it

Not all anniversaries are joyful. Some remind us of horrendous events. That wasn’t true on Sept. 6, 2020.

Though Cal Ripken may not be a hero, he represents an ideal. Hard work and single-mindedness in the presence of injuries and criticism are undeniable virtues.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

When I read last Friday about President Trump’s confirmed comments about veterans buried in military cemeteries as “losers” and “suckers,” I so wanted to believe that I had had a bad dream. After all, who would make such demeaning remarks about members of the Armed Services killed in combat or training accidents?

I decided I wouldn’t write a column condemning our nation’s top-elected political leader, who in the past also characterized the late Sen. John McCain, a tortured prisoner of war during the Vietnam Conflict, as a “loser.” 

Trump has no shame or conscience. His comments consign him a to category occupied only by himself; any semblance of dignity and class has eluded him in a painfully public way.

I prefer to use this weekly space to extol the men and women who have served and continue to do so in horribly dangerous parts of the world. They seek no transactional reward. They expect fairness and clarity up and down the chain of command. If medals come their way, so be it.

When a member of the military services takes an enlistment oath, he/she understands that the possibility of death is an implied consequence. If death or maiming hopefully doesn’t result, deprivation often does. Time away from family is difficult.

Why does a person serve when not compelled by a draft? The answer is complicated.

Many don the uniform in allegiance to their parents or grandparents or best friends. Some are looking to leave home and lives promising restricted opportunity.  Some ache to serve their nation, as was the case after our homeland was attacked on 9/11/2001. Some believe that military service is a requirement of good citizenship.

In my scorebook, anyone who serves our country (or the Peace Corps or other forms of national service) is a winner. The choice demands discipline and dedication.

In the history of our country, many have chosen to serve a cause above themselves. Selflessness outweighs selfishness. It just seems right and honorable.

President Trump only understands fealty to the dollar and the deal. He seems oblivious to non-transactional choices. Comments in a recent Atlantic article portray a person uncomfortable in a cemetery marked by reverence to mostly young men and women who died in service to the United States.

Through the years, as an officer in the Maryland National Guard, I met many World War II veterans. Many of them spent their youth on Omaha Beach on D-Day, June 6, 1944 and beyond on Europe’s fighting fields as part of the 29th Infantry Division (Blue and Gray).

As I’ve written previously, these were ordinary men who performed extraordinary deeds. Many lost close friends in vicious combat on the Normandy beaches and places such as St. Lo and Bastogne.

They would cringe at hearing that their buddies buried at the Normandy American Cemetery in Coleville-sur-Mer in France were called “losers” and “suckers” by the current UI.S. president. While Trump may deny these words, others caught in shocked disbelief heard them.

A visit to a military cemetery elicits sympathy and appreciation. I look particularly at the deceased’s age and wonder how they died: What were their life stories? How were their families affected? What were their dreams about life after military service?

World War II veterans were especially stoic. They talked little about their combat experiences. Maybe they shared their stories in their later years. They wanted to move on with their civilian lives. Unfortunately, they did not seek solace or professional help when they returned, still bedeviled by flashback and fear.

Our military cemeteries, such as Arlington National Cemetery, reflect American values at their most basic level. Whether drafted or volunteer enlistees, the men and women who reside in calm and peace bespeak a willingness to go in harm’s way and leave the comfort of home.

A winner doesn’t criticize those who died in combat or a training accident.

A winner honors and reveres those who sought to serve bravely and selflessly. 

A loser condemns what he doesn’t know.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

Tomorrow marks the 75th anniversary of the end of World War II, which claimed the lives of roughly 60-80 million people. Yesterday was my 75th birthday, a milestone for anyone who has spent three-quarters of a century living on our delightful, yet contentious earth.  

Instead of fighting a war against a vicious despot, we are at war with ourselves. A national consensus that undergirded our years of struggle against Nazi Germany and Japan is elusive, if not attainable, except briefly, in our United States. 

Raised by parents and grandparents who believed anything was possible with hard work and education, I’ve learned that that vision is an illusion in 2020. A country that triumphed in Europe and Japan and then reinvented itself as a world power–economically, politically and militarily–is viewed as morally bankrupt, economically vulnerable and culturally divided.

As I celebrated my birthday primarily with family due to social distancing dictated by the coronavirus that has changed our lives during nearly eight months, I wondered about our disjointed response to the pandemic. Our national leadership has been sadly lacking, if not pathetically shameful.

We have no national will because our president believes that Covid-19 will simply go away, science be damn. And magically a vaccine will materialize. We’ll all live happily ever after.

Though hardly a social historian, I believe that in the America that strode purposefully and effectively after the end of World War II until 2000, confidence in combating a pandemic would have been possible. A U.S. president intent on leading, not deluding our citizenry, would have created a non-adversarial relationship with states and scientists to minimize as far as possible the deadly effects of the coronavirus.

Truth and credibility require no vaccine.

Character and concern require no social distancing, just a sincere soul and working heart.

While a sense of gloom created by our seriously constrained lives and a sham residing in our once respected White House hovers over our daily activities, I happily turned 75. Not too long ago I wondered if neurological problems with balance and dizziness would rule my 70s and beyond.

As I scanned the birthday celebration and watched family members devour lobsters and delicious chocolate cake, I smiled as the current patriarch of our small tribe, observing friendly chatter. The personalities are vastly different. Love provided the glue for the joy and harmony that permeated the noisy dinner table.

Memories dominate your thinking as you rise up the aging ranks. You inevitably think of your ancestors. Their spirit permeates the festivities. I think about my immigrant grandfather who tasted the fruits of success and liked nothing better than overseeing a table filled with grandchildren who mostly got along.

The end of World War II ushered in a truly incredible expanse of achievement and prosperity in our striving nation. Not all partook of the financial rewards, as we know. Racial inequality existed then; it surely does now.

Optimistically, I believe our country is enduring a bad patch. Our president is incompetent and amoral. His loyalty is self-directed. His ability to speak the truth is frighteningly scarce. 

Born in Boston, sharing an apartment with my parents and older brother, I faced an uncertain world. For the most part, the journey from infancy to senior status has been a happy one. Disappointment mixed with flashes of glee were constant ingredients in a fulfilling life.

I remain hopeful that my future birthdays on the last day of August will be numerous despite the mathematical limitations. I am hopeful that the upsurge of optimism and achievement that followed the end of World War II on September 2, 1945 can somehow resurface in our fractious country.

And I hope that November 3, 2020 will bring a refreshing change in the occupancy of the White House. I will feel as if I were born again.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

 

Covid-19 continues to hover over our lives. We all cope in our different ways. As readers know, my wife and I have responded to health-caused restrictions by immersing ourselves every evening in watching mostly old movies.

I cannot claim that we are challenging our intellectual capacities. Nor has the pandemic, now seven months-old and still thriving, prescribed strenuous mental exercise. It seems more important to attend to our emotional well-being.

In past columns, I’ve reviewed with decidedly pedestrian skill 12 movies that fascinated me. They were thought-provoking, if not simply wonderfully entertaining.

For this commentary, I will remain fixed on my self-imposed limit of six films reviewed with an imperfect eye and muted criticism. I’ve learned that movies that we have enjoyed have often been scorched by critics. 

So what? Critics feast upon flaws that only they might observe and even care about.

Here we go, Spy readers:

“Saving Private Ryan,” starring Tom Hanks and Matt Damon, is a thoroughly absorbing film that offers an unvarnished view of deadly combat beginning on Omaha Beach during D-Day, June 6, 1944. Hanks’ character, Captain John Miller, becomes an increasingly hard-edged platoon commander dedicated to a questionable mission. This is not an easy movie to watch. It strains your belief in the goodness of war.

An unabashed fan of the peripatetic Robin Williams, I was moved by his portrayal of an unconventional prep school English teacher in “Dead Poets Society,” a film that shakes your faith in hide-bound school administrators and parents who view with trepidation an educator who challenges students to think and act for themselves. I just loved this movie. It reminded me that a good teacher can have a huge influence on his/her students if allowed to use different but effective methods of stirring the minds of sometimes resistant teenagers. 

If still disturbed by the physical and material atrocities committed by the Nazi forces during World War II, readers will enjoy the painful story embodied in “Portrait in Gold,” starring Helen Mirren, who never fails to imbue her character with strength and sensitivity. An Austrian Jew who flees Vienna amid the Nazi crackdown and settles in Los Angeles, she becomes obsessed with gaining possession of her aunt’s portrait, “Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer”. This compelling tale succeeds not just because of an incredible actress, but also a tone-perfect performance by Ryan Reynolds and the lovely scenic role played by Vienna.

Few films so inspire and engage me than “The King’s Speech. “ Queen Elizabeth’s father, King George VI, overcame a dominating father, a reckless and irresponsible brother and a debilitating stammer to become a king that helped lead Great Britain during the Nazi blitz and World War II. This movie tells the all-too-human stories of the dysfunctional royal family against a backdrop of political and global chaos. The relationship between the king, known as Bertie, and a commoner who helps him speak more comfortably is almost too good to be true. Colin Firth is exceptional, as exemplified by his Oscar as Best Actor in 2010. The king’s struggles mirror the awesome challenges faced in a wartime Britain.

To erase any perception that my wife and I only enjoy gut-wrenching drama, I must confess that we found “The Proposal”, featuring Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds, funny and creative. While the film’s conclusion may have been predictable (a constant bugaboo for paid critics), I thought the plot was innovative and the chemistry between Bullock and Reynolds a real plus. The dichotomy between New York City and a beautiful village in Alaska underscored the tension between Bullock and Reynolds. The light touch provided by this romantic comedy was a welcome break from our usual diet of serious films.

Finally, “A Beautiful Mind,” winner of the Best Film in 2001and featuring Russell Crowe, is a must-watch for anyone who appreciates excellent acting, sensitive treatment of mental disease, the demands and competition of an elite education and insight into genius. The fragile thread separating uncommon intellect and emotional stability underscores the true story behind this superb cinema. Direction by Ron Howard nearly guarantees a thoughtful and critically successful movie. Crowe fills the screen with his touching portrayal of a man blessed with a first-rate brain and a vulnerable soul.

If I were to review COVID-19, I regretfully would rate it a smashing success in disturbing our lives and causing unfortunate morbidity. It’s like nothing any of us have experienced. It rules everything we do and don’t do.

A chronic obsession with escapist cinema helps alleviate the stress of coping with a stubborn disease.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

 

 

After listening for 39 minutes to the video recording of last week’s Talbot County Council discussion and vote on removal of the Talbot Boys Monument from the grounds of the county courthouse, I was more disappointed than surprised by the backward thinking of Councilpersons Chuck Callahan, Frank Divilio and Laura Price.

I’ve read comments commending this threesome for resisting the nationwide tide of removing Confederate statues in towns and cities along the East Coast. For many in our community, Callahan, Divilio and Price are heroes for honoring the past and refusing to give into “leftist” criticism and pressure. They successfully voted in the majority against the removal.

On the other hand (right or left), Council President Corey Pack and Councilperson Lesher, representing the two minority votes, were viewed as following their consciences and supporting the position that the Talbot Boys Monument represents white supremacy and its ugly byproducts: hatred, bigotry and oppression.

As I’ve written before, I support the removal of a monument that blatantly counters those virtues—such as friendliness, compassionate citizenship, generosity of spirit and community betterment–that engender pride in our county. The 3-2 decision offers a different impression, one that tolerates a symbol of hostility and prejudice.

What the decision and preceding dialogue conveyed was a sad lack of leadership. Callahan and Divilio explicitly proposed evading their responsibility to make reasoned decisions by recommending a referendum in 2022 to enable the people to decide. That’s gutless.

Price focused her opposition on procedural grounds that made sense only to her. To this observer, her argument wreaked of stall tactics and legislative minutiae. She chose process over substance in opposing the resolution calling for the monument’s removal.

All three opponents then suggested that the time was wrong to make a decision as monumental at this. They played the Covid-19 pandemic card, saying that restrictions against public input by citizens forbidden to attend meetings negated a thoughtful decision. Under current circumstances, the public has been vocal.

Divilio, Callahan and Price opted for distraction and fatuous arguments. And they succeeded. The democratic process places a premium on majority votes.

Pack and Lesher showed courage. The former apologized for his vote five years ago opposing the removal. Apologies typically are in short supply in the body politic, for fear that contrition connotes weakness and possible legal consequences. In fact, it recognizes poor judgment.

Since it’s easy to criticize politicians who are making well-considered decisions based on their own convictions and their awareness of constituent concerns, I believe that the time has come for a creative approach that appeals, if possible, to both sides of the argument. 

The public flogging by advocates needs to come to a stop.

I recommend creation by the county council of a blue-ribbon commission headed by someone respected for his/her objectivity and thoughtfulness, leading a group representing concerned segments of our community. I further suggest that the county council direct this commission to submit a proposal by Dec. 31, 2020.

If the proposal calls, for example, for the removal of both the Talbot Boys and the Frederick Douglass monuments to non-public space, one that captures the whole, unvarnished history of Talbot County, then that is something that the public and its public servants can debate. 

This idea is not mine. Two writers have offered this idea in letters and comments in The Talbot Spy.

While this column has criticized Callahan, Divilio and Price and commended Pack and Lesher, I believe that the entire council would like to find a solution to a controversy that will not vanish without a palatable resolution. A future that combines creativity and tolerance, while enhancing the county’s image and tourism, should be the goal. 

Discussion is healthy. Varied voices, even if discordant, are integral to the democratic process. Our elected representatives need to find a compromise proposal that allows all segments to feel that their input was valued. 

Leadership can fill the current void and allay the dissension. A blue-ribbon commission that moves quickly to design a solution that solicits public input could clear the logjam.

The time is now. Not 2022.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

 

Over the years I’ve often read analogies describing the aging process. For example, a tree that loses its limbs, and its interior hollows out, is an apt comparison. If the tree matters to us because we remember its being planted, its decline is obvious to us.

Another analogy might be a beloved car in which the engine dies as if it were a human heart no longer able to operate properly and pump blood to parts of a human body. The repairs may be impractical.

Many other analogies serve as reference points as we consider the physical and mental decline of loved ones.

Another comparison is more painful, as I’ve learned in recent months. Our 11-year-old Yellow Labrador Retriever is slowing down and experiencing medical problems. I cannot avoid grieving about an animal so integral to our happiness.

Sandy has swallowing problems that often lead to gagging and sometimes spitting up. She now walks more slowly, sauntering ploddingly on neighborhood walks. We’ve observed more frequent incontinence. She has undergone exams and bloodwork analysis.

This lovable dog is showing her age. So are her owners. We must face our own physical challenges, our own frailties, our own diminution, as we have witnessed hers.

Maybe when we grieve Sandy’s decline, we see our own images. The mirror of animal life reflects an intimate analogy.

Many readers have experienced their own canine losses. Several times in some cases. The pain of losing a beloved member of the family never gets better, regardless of repetition. Memories remain vivid.

My wife and I will continue to love and nurture Sandy, helping her endure her pain and discomfort through medication and care. I’ve begun to store my memories.

The inevitable question posed by friends and family during discussion of Sandy’s increasing frailty: will you get another dog when Sandy dies? I doubt it. Others have told me they had similar reactions; the emotional pain is too great. Then, they often relent. Life without a dog becomes unbearable.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

In past columns, I’ve written that my childhood included no pets. Realizing that her two sons were insufficiently responsible to care for a dog, and knowing she was no lover of these ingratiating creatures, she allowed no pets. Any argument would have been senseless.

I don’t begrudge my mother’s decision. It was wise, I guess, and typically honest. My adult life, however, has been enhanced by the presence of an animal that improves the lives of its owners.

A dog elicits calm, kindness and love. You may pay less attention to your own woes, if only momentarily. You cater to the needs of one of God’s endearing creatures.

This column likely will not be my last about Sandy. I can’t help myself.

Analogies abound about the passage of time. They provide an often painful reminder of our own mortality.  They make joys and upsets more understandable.

I’ll always feel thankful to Sandy and her attention to her human parents as they too exemplify the sad but true effects of aging.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

Beaten repeatedly during non-violent civil rights demonstrations in the turbulent 1960s, long-serving Congressman John Lewis (D, GA) had sufficient reason to lead a life filled with bitterness and recrimination. But he didn’t.

Like former slave and abolitionist Frederick Douglass, long-imprisoned anti-apartheid activist Nelson Mandela and Holocaust survivor and Nobel laureate Elie Wiesel, Lewis channeled his anger and passion into advocating for tolerance in a country where bigotry often trumped human compassion.

Lewis died July 17, 2020 at 80 from pancreatic cancer. His strong constitution and rock-solid determination could not overcome an often fatal form of cancer.

During his lifetime, particularly for more than 30 years in the U.S. House of Representatives, Lewis’ voice embodied an impassioned plea for fairness and equality. Democrats and Republicans alike knew that Lewis’ fervent calls for equal voting and housing rights rose from the soul of person who had endured the worst vestiges of crushing segregation and lawless law enforcement. 

Lewis’ words were poignant, personal and searing. He had served bravely in the trenches of the battle for civil rights for people whose only offense was the color of their skin, not the quality of their being. He understood senseless and pervasive bias.

In 1965, as he joined many others in crossing the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, AL, he suffered a fractured skull at the disgraceful hands of a baton-wielding white policeman. 

Some may have abandoned the civil rights movement to tend to physical and emotional scars. But not John Lewis.

When treated for a long time as second-class citizens in a country that prided itself on freedom and liberty for all, many might accept that reality and choose to avoid fighting for equal treatment. After all, progress might have seemed improbable, if not impossible, and often dangerous.

Mandela, who later became president of South Africa, could have lost his will and shriveled up in a brutal prison. He chose to live and change his country.

Douglass could have remained a slave in Talbot County. But instead he escaped and became one of the most highly regarded voices in in the abolitionist movement. 

Wiesel could have accepted what seemed to be an inevitable death sentence in a Nazi killing camp. But he prevailed, determined to survive and tell the story of unconscionable atrocity in his evocative book, “Night.”

It’s clear by now that I unabashedly admire the character and courage of John Lewis and those who preceded him as inhabitants of a cruel reality dictated by soulless people who failed to understand their mean-spirited and often deadly impulses.

On July 30, the New York Times published an essay written by Lewis for publication on the day of his funeral. It bespeaks optimism about the future, as epitomized by the burgeoning Black Lives Movement sparked by the killing in late May of George Floyd by a Minneapolis policeman.

“Though I may not be here with you, I urge you to answer the highest calling of your heart and stand up for what you believe. In my life I have done all I can to demonstrate that the way of peace, the way of love and nonviolence is the most excellent way. Now it is your turn to let freedom ring,” Lewis wrote as he was dying.

Lewis’ simple but eloquent words are open to all of us for interpretation and adherence.

His final words should inspire everyone, regardless of skin color or religion or gender or sexual preference:

“When historians pick up their pens to write the story of the 21st century, let them say that it was your generation who laid down the heavy burdens of hate at last and that peace finally triumphed over violence, aggression and war.”

His language evokes no bitterness, no anger, no spite and retribution. He simply is calling for all Americans to be better.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

 

Movie sequels can be perilous. It’s tough to match the magic of the original tour de force. I doubt whether movie reviews qualify as literary masterpieces.

Nonetheless, again I will share my thoughts, as I did last week, about six movies that have captivated my wife and me, and at other times simply interested us during our partial incarceration after the rude imposition of COVID-19.

One piece of insight into our diverse choices: we’ve often picked an actor/actress as our focal point and then reviewed his/her portfolio of work. As mentioned last week, we steer away from violence (it’s an age thing, I guess) and lean toward happy or redemptive endings (also age-related, I suspect).

Okay, enough with the chatter and onto reviews of six films:

The “Devil Wears Prada” showcases Meryl Streep’s immense talent, her well-acknowledged ability to inhabit any character, whoever that might. In this instance, she portrays a ruthless, driven and self-centered fashion magazine editor who treats her employees poorly and condescendingly. She’s easy to dislike. The movie, which also features Anne Hathaway, succeeds because Streep fills the screen with malice and mastery.

Who would ever think that a movie about a high-school music teacher and his deaf son would be an unforgettable film? Richard Dreyfuss in “Mr. Holland’s Opus” dedicates himself, reluctantly at first, to teach teenagers not only to play but appreciate music, while working decades to compose his own musical creation. He’s a better teacher than he is a father. His classroom also represents his artistic canvass. My wife and I loved this movie.

Robin Williams, known as a comic genius, won an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor in “Good Will Hunting, “a riveting psychological drama that brings out the best not only in the normally manic Williams but also Matt Damon. The fraught relationship between the Williams and Damon characters constitutes the major draw to this audience member. South Boston, Harvard University and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology provide contrasting venues for this film.

On a more subdued scale but no less entertaining than the previous movie, “Shadowlands,” starring Anthony Hopkins and Debra Winger, tells the touching story of an unlikely romance between the famed author of Christian fables for children and Oxford University professor, C.S. Lewis, and an American writer and divorcee, Joy Grisham. It’s a wonderful drama that describes an increasingly warm relationship between a lifelong, emotionally detached bachelor and a brash, volatile woman. Did I say we really enjoyed this cinema?

“Monument Men,” directed by and starring George Clooney, is easy to overlook as a quality World War II movie, if it were not for the riveting and revolting tale it tells about the Nazi’s theft of millions and millions of dollars’ worth of world-class art—and the incredible effort by a select group of American soldiers (and art historians) to retrieve the artistic treasures. Performances not only by Clooney but Bill Murray, Matt Damon, John Goodman and Kate Blanchett add to the allure of this underrated movie.

Finally, I can’t stop enjoying “Steel Magnolias,” starring Sally Field, Julia Roberts, Dolly Parton, Olympia Dukakis and the incomparable Shirley MacLaine. Combining pathos, humor, sisterhood, strong-mindedness and small-town Southern charm, this movie grabs your heart and never lets go. The men in this film are mere props to the powerful women.

Our isolation continues. Our need for organic entertainment is now nearing six months. I’m not complaining, just explaining my fascination with fantasy.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

Weighed down like so many others in recent months by the constant onslaught of news about the pandemic, aberrant behavior at the White House, social justice protests, economic distress and cyber-terrorism, my wife and I have chosen to immerse ourselves during the evening in the cinematic world. Movies of yore have become our refuge.

We sleep better, unburdened temporarily by worldly concerns. For a few hours, we opt for fiction instead of friction. We thrive on redemptive or happy endings. For the most part, we avoid violence, though not entirely.

One more thing: our age reflects our taste. Some movies are simply distasteful to us. Our 40-ish daughters snicker at our choices.

Escapism is our nightly intent. It calms the nerves and feeds the soul. I’m not suggesting some sort of mystical experience, merely joyfulness provided at a charge by Netflix and Amazon. It’s worth the cost to two senior citizens.

Now, for the moment that you have eagerly awaited: a partial list of our favorites accompanied by comments likely considered sophomoric by the once popular critic-duo (now deceased) of Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert. 

“Officer and Gentlemen,” featuring Richard Gere and Debra Winger, offers a simple plot, strong acting, strenuous military training and gripping drama, with an underlying theme of rising to a higher, respectable social and professional level despite a hard-scrabble upbringing. 

“Rain Man,” featuring Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise, offers an Academy Award performance by the former, who portrayed an autistic adult who garnered the affection of a brother whom he didn’t know, and who learned to love his challenging sibling through arduous trial and error. It’s a truly remarkable film that treats autism in a sensitive way.

“Philomena,” starring the incredibly talented British actress, Judi Dench, tells a heart-rending story about a woman seeking to find a son born out of wedlock whom she had to give up for adoption when he was a baby and she was a teenager. Philomena must deal with a rigidly obdurate group of nuns who run a Catholic convent in Ireland, sacrificing compassion for money paid by rich Americans seeking to adopt Irish babies. The movie grabs and holds onto you for 98 minutes.

Maggie Smith, another absolutely superb British actress—who captivated my wife and me in the “Downton Abbey” as the witty, conniving and imperious Dowager Countess—stars in “Quartet” as a retired opera singer who reluctantly moves into a retirement community in England catering to former music luminaries, including her ex-husband. A scene-stealer in the best of ways, Maggie Smith expertly portrays prima-donnas whose hearts, though mostly hidden, are big and giving.

“Bucket List” with Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson is a favorite of ours. The actors are stars for a reason; they infuse their characters with humor and humanity. Their thrilling search for exciting, dangerous ventures as they navigate their imminent deaths as cancer victims paints a picture of pure joy and overwhelming pathos nearly simultaneously. When this movie ends after 97 minutes, these two audience members want to see and feel more the fusion of wild adventure and preparation for mortality.

Finally, “On Golden Pond,” which brought Academy Awards to the renowned Katherine Hepburn and Henry Fonda, represented on one level an acting masterpiece, while providing insight on another level to emotional distress in facing the deteriorating aspects of aging—and using acerbic language to hide your inner pain. A major element in his engrossing film is a pond filled with memories and family dysfunction.

The fictional lives and personal crises portrayed on the cinematic screen invite viewers to ignore their own worries and health. Movies have always been a refuge for escapism, sometimes in silly, superficial ways. 

The six chosen by this half-baked film critic brought enjoyment to my wife and me. COVID-19, politics, social justice and the economy were on the back-burner.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.

 

The number of COVID-19 cases in Talbot County, the state of Maryland and the U.S. is increasing, according to recent news reports. It’s disturbing, though unsurprising.

As of Saturday, July 11,2020, new cases in the country had reached a record daily count of 68,000, according to the New York Times, for a total of 3,353,000 as of July 13. The number of new cases in Florida totaled 15,299, breaking the national record for a state’s largest single-day record in positive coronavirus cases, per The Baltimore Sun.

According to the World Health Organization, as of Friday, July 10, the number of cases worldwide had surpassed for the fifth time in July the previous record of 220,000 cases a day.

According to the Talbot Spy on July 13, total cases in Talbot County numbered 191, an increase of 11 from the previous day. Cases in Maryland totaled 73,527, an increase of 418 in 24 hours, as reported in the July 13 Spy, including six in the past 24 hours.

These statistics reflect more testing, lax restrictions in some states, stubborn refusal by many to wear masks and simply fatigue by Americans to a gross change in lifestyle. Probably a combination of these factors, I suppose.

Like many, I feel a bit discouraged. Common sense—and self-preservation—demanded all of us months ago to respond urgently to a health crisis, the likes of which we had never experienced. This was in early March. And for the most part, we reacted by uniting to fight a potentially fatal disease.

From early March to early June—a brief three months–our country witnessed a surge in selflessness as the novel coronavirus consumed public attention.

We faced an enemy virus and fought it with a fierce determination to “flatten the curve” by wearing masks, sheltering in place and socially distancing ourselves from family members, friends, neighbors and co-workers. Our little space in our revolving world seemingly had come to a screeching stop.

Now. the game has returned to familiar territory: fear and self-monitoring are hovering again over our lives. At least to mine. I’m back to my old caution and concern, though “old” is relative.

What’s surprising is that I don’t mind. This incurable extrovert somehow enjoyed the quiet, punctuated at times by efficient Zoom meetings requiring a more informal dress code (not pajamas, however) and no travel. Takeout meals became joyful experiences, providing a welcome break for my wife in the sometime tedious routine of dinner preparation.

Like others, I savored the slight re-opening of life in June as directed by Gov. Larry Hogan, with restrictions of course and cautious actions taken by sensible business-owners. I sensed a heightened sense of relief among my fellow citizens, while many remained leery of diving back in. I didn’t judge or blame them.

We in our 70s with “underlying medical conditions” justifiably approached a partial return to normal with some trepidation. We would have been foolish to do otherwise. Still, we yearned for human interaction, even if properly distant.

At a time when we must continue to police ourselves and care about others, it’s been trying to observe outright stupidity on the part of those deliberately flouting behaviors harmful to them and others. Dismissive lack of mask-wearing by some begets an angry response by those playing by science-approved rules and guidance.

When we celebrated our independence on July 4th, I suppose we also were granting people the right to act foolishly and irresponsibly. Unfortunately, in current times, this behavior can expose others to the novel coronavirus.

It’s downright selfish.

Narcissism, though totally legal, can have health consequences for those who would prefer to avoid hospitalization and possible death. Freedom has consequences.

Objective experts like Dr. Anthony Fauci, director of the U.S. National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Disease, and county health officers like Dr. Frieda Watley, have predicted a surge. And that’s what seems to be happening. Neither medical expert wanted to be right.

Sadly, they can’t prescribe common sense.

I must confess I have returned to working out at a private gym with a personal trainer. Stupid and I’ll-advised? It’s very possible. I weighed the risk and rewards. At nearly 75, a heart attack victim 27 years ago, a prostate cancer survivor and a person afflicted in 2018 and part of 2019 with balance problems, I have reasoned that wisely controlled training twice a week in a mostly unpopulated gym hopefully lengthens my life.

Our lives are in flux. A second COVID-19 surge has materialized. Several states opened up for business prematurely, ignoring medical advice. Maryland, led by Gov. Hogan, reacted early on with inconvenient but sensible restrictions. Hospitalizations decreased. The state then reopened in phases. Cases have risen. The picture is dark.

Our new normal is becoming customary. That’s a tough prognosis.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. In retirement, Howard serves on the boards of several non-profits on the Eastern Shore, Annapolis and Philadelphia.