Howard Freedlander

Out and About (Sort of): Founding School Head Leaves Lasting Legacy by Howard Freedlander

January 21, 2020 by Howard Freedlander 1 Comment

Up to six years ago, I knew little or nothing about children with learning differences. I didn’t understand their travails at public schools. These young people were distraught. So were their parents.

Previous school experiences were sadly unsuccessful.

Saddled with dyslexia—a learning disorder that causes people to find use of letters and words difficult, though their intelligence level is as high as others—and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), commonly linked with inability to concentrate or impulsive behavior—young folks and their parents often face academic and social despair. Some young people might be on the autism spectrum.

Chrissy Aull, founding head of Wye River Upper School (WRUS), now located in the wonderfully renovated Maryland National Guard Armory in Centreville, joined with her friend, Patricia McGlennan, to establish a special place for high school students with few good choices, to use their good brains and learning differences to succeed and move on to college.

WRUS is more than a school. It provides a safe, welcoming environment where students unaccustomed to feeling good about themselves, find that others share their academic challenges.

Chrissy Aull is retiring in June, 2020. In a letter sent last week to the WRUS community of alumni, parents, faculty, donors and friends, Alexa Seip, board chair, wrote: “Timing is everything. Wye River Upper School is in a position of strength. Enrollment has increased. Budgets have been balanced. A faculty team is delivering transformative education.

“Chrissy Aull, founding Head of School, has announced her retirement will take place in June, 2020…thank you, Chrissy, for giving us this school that has given so much to many.”

My first meeting with Aull left a lasting impression. She was enthusiastic, dedicated and dogged about a school that changed the lives of hundreds and hundreds of young people and parents justifiably discouraged about the education and treatment they were receiving in public schools hampered by lack of qualified, though well-meaning teachers and administrators.

Chrissy cared, deeply. She and Patricia McGlennan had sons who needed a curriculum geared to their learning differences. It was their mutual concern about their children that motivated them to found a school originally situated in a classroom at Chesapeake College.

Aull wrote in her letter explaining her retirement: “Few people are blessed as I am to wrap up a lifetime of professional experiences with the knowledge that persistence and passion can result in a legacy such as this one. That is a gift with no equal as I hand over the key to the front door(s).”

Through Tom Seip, who co-chaired the capital campaign for the renovation of the old Guard armory, I learned about the struggles experienced by parents trying mightily to divine a way for their children to succeed and achieve a level of self-esteem that might have seemed unachievable at some point.

I met some of the WRUS students; I was impressed by their abilities to navigate their learning differences and contribute to a safe, comfortable environment.

It’s not easy for a founder of any organization, private, public or academic, to step away from something to which he/she gave birth and nurture. I suspect that in Chrissy Aull’s case, her service as school Head was more a calling than a job. The school she co-founded has provided hope to so many.

Godspeed, Chrissy Aull, on your retirement journey. As you said, you leave an invaluable legacy, one that has enhanced the lives of so many students and parents.

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.

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Out and About (Sort of): Ethics, Again by Howard Freedlander

January 14, 2020 by Howard Freedlander Leave a Comment

Within recent months, two state legislators and a District of Columbia councilman have resigned after being accused of using public office for personal gain.

One, former Delegate Tawanna Gaines (D, Prince George’s County), has been sentenced for federal wire fraud. She used campaign funds for personal purposes. The other, Del. Cheryl Glenn (D, Baltimore City), has been charged with taking bribes for sponsoring legislation favorable to the medical cannabis industry. And DC Democratic Councilman Jack Evans used his office to gain consulting clients by supporting legislative actions advantageous to them. His colleagues resolved he should resign, and so he did.

Now let’s be clear: political office- holders are constantly helping constituents obtain government assistance in many matters of interest. That’s legal. That’s democracy. What’s illegal is expecting and extorting payment for these services.

I realize that some consider campaign contributions as legal bribery. I well understand that some justifiably bemoan the influence of big money in politics. However, for the sake of absolute clarity, I am referring only to explicit transfer of funds intended to influence a political action in a corrupt manner.

Some think that state legislators, now paid $50,000 for a 90-day session, plus incalculable time spent between sessions serving constituents and participating in legislative task forces, should receive greater compensation.

A member of the DC Council earns $140,000 annually.

How much is enough to avoid being susceptible to extortion?

Not too many years ago, a state delegate, Dan Morhaim (D, Baltimore County), who also was a physician, was found also to be a consultant paid by a company seeking a medical marijuana license. He had pushed for years to legalize medical use of marijuana. His peers reprimanded him. Shortly thereafter, he retired.

Some think that those accused of proffering bribes be fined $100,000.

Some believe that public officials found engaged in illegal behavior be charged with civil actions.

And some may take a different tack: corruption can’t be curbed. The human condition will never change; temptation is too great to resist. Corruption is unavoidable despite well-intended attempts to control behavior. Deterrence may be the best you can accomplish.

Back on my high horse (the same one I climbed on last week, if you recall). The 441st Maryland General Assembly convened on Wednesday, Jan.8,2020. Though it may not supersede the importance of education funding, ethics should be a primary subject.

A.K. Antony, a former defense minister of India and current member of Parliament, said.” There is no compromise when it comes to corruption. You have to fight it.”

What’s blindingly obvious is that trust in government Is sadly low. Politicians general receive low marks from the public. Cynicism grows like a contagion. Consequently, decisions made by our elected officials are viewed suspiciously by the public: was the legislation necessary, and who influenced it?

The public has become jaded. It believes that its elected representatives—local, state and federal—are out only for themselves, beholden to special interest groups with deep pockets. Access is available only to the wealthy and powerful—a common perception.

I ascribe honesty and good intentions to our politicians before I am persuaded otherwise. I’ve worked with excellent legislators on all levels.

I hope and trust that the Maryland legislature will work to eliminate the stench of unethical and illegal behavior. It should institute severe penalties to ensure that delegates and senator understand the career-ending consequences of accepting bribes by selling their offices to the highest bidder.

Annapolis should be the citadel of honest competence, not pervasive corruption. No sleight of hand. No graft. No culture of play to pay. No special favors.

Here’s to a legislative session that declares a moratorium on political corruption, that resolves to serve its shareholders by taking steps to encourage behavior free of illegal entanglements.

Out and About (Sort of): Ethics on the Edge by Howard Freedlander

January 7, 2020 by Howard Freedlander

A recent University of Maryland Medical System (USMS) audit ordered after reports of widespread self-dealing by about a third of the board members revealed again the alarming degree of blatant violation of conflict of interest standards and reputable governance by a non-profit board of directors.

Is it old, stale news first reported last March by the Baltimore Sun?

Why is there continual rehash of corrupt behavior not only by the board members but top medical system administrators who not only condoned but perhaps encouraged the granting of no-bid contracts to long-term board members?

For me, the review not only by UMMS but also the upcoming Maryland General Assembly’s report by the Office of Legislative Audits is anything but overkill. It’s entirely appropriate.

Eradication of crony self-dealing by board members and hospital executives requires bold, invasive surgery.

If the overused word “transparency” and public embarrassment are necessary to root out shady practices, so be it. UMMS receives significant state funding.

The audit declares that the delivery of care was unaffected by the high-level machinations. That might be true. But I suggest that the public perception of a sordid lack of integrity could lead some to wonder whether medical treatment might be compromised by unethical behavior at the top echelon.

The public is expected to ignore corporate misconduct and focus on medical treatment. And perhaps that is true too. What does it matter when a loved one is about to undergo life-saving surgery? Not at all.

Ethical corporate conduct, however, at the top level of hospital administration does have consequences. Revenue collected should go to medical treatment, not self-aggrandizement. Revenue should be spent wisely on necessary and competitive, not sole-source and frivolous contracts.

UMMS is highly regarded for its statewide medical care. Communities throughout the state are served well by its affiliated hospitals, including Shore Medical Center in Easton, as well as operations in Cambridge, Denton, Chestertown and Queenstown.

Some UMMS board members benefited personally and professionally through the receipt of large compensation for services provided by no-bid contracts. While the companies were reputable ones, the transactions were tainted by insider trading.

In the case of one board member, John Dillon, of Oxford, according to numerous news reports, he received payments for consulting services normally performed as part of any board member’s responsibilities, such as fundraising and strategic planning. I am not questioning Dillon’s commitment to Shore Regional Health as its former chair and his longtime record of community service, but I do find his disregard of accepted board members’ practices objectionable.

Many of us serve on non-profit boards. We are expected to contribute time and money without expecting anything in return. As it should be.

My obsession with ethics is simple: lack of integrity of a process engenders mistrust, which in turns besmirches the reputation of the organization, and those who serve it.

Eventually, the walls fall down; the foundation has been weakened by corrupt practices. Customers, suppliers, shareholders and stakeholders become disenchanted.

Ethical matters and transgressions readily lift me on my high horse. I am consumed by self-righteousness. For me, there is no gray, though there’s plenty in most cases.

A few years ago, I was responsible for conducting a competitive procurement for an investment advisor at a non-profit in Annapolis. It was a bit fraught. The board chair headed a wealth management firm in Timonium. Members of this organization were connected to investment advisory firms.

I strongly urged the chair to remain uninvolved. He did. We ensured that all bidders knew the process would be fair; no company affiliated with a member would receive any advantage. The process worked.

The human condition is frail at times. Greed can be tough to resist. What might seem appealing—and easily rationalized—may be rife with ethical minefields.

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Out and About (Sort of): Hopeful for 2020 by Howard Freedlander

December 31, 2019 by Howard Freedlander

I eschew New Year’s resolutions. Why resolve to do something and forget I did? Just not my style.

Saying that, I do harbor a litany of hopes for 2020, understanding that reality might render them impractical. But if we abandon hope, we court disaster, if not depression.

So, I’ve compiled a list of hopes for the 21st year of our century. We all have them. I’m lucky I’ve got a platform to express them.

I hope you will feel free to comment. Onto Hopeland:

For a year unblemished by mass killings performed by deranged and xenophobic perpetrators.

For effective opposition to a third Bay Bridge span that would seem certain to damage the way of our relatively uncongested life on the Eastern Shore.

For another restaurant in the now empty space that until recently housed Mason’s Redux at 22 South Harrison Street in Easton.

That family, friends and a White Labrador Retriever named Sandy enjoy good health and personal satisfaction in 2020.

For a year devoid of questionable decisions at Washington College concerning student drama decisions, and a resurgence of fiscal health at this historic liberal arts college.

For a year without serious human and physical destruction wrought domestically and internationally by climate change and global warming.

For an impeachment trial driven by political fairness (possible?) and judicious thinking (possible?) in the U.S. Senate.

For a Super Bowl that includes the Baltimore Ravens not merely as a participant, but as the eventual victor.

For a World Series that again includes participation by the Washington Nationals and possibly, though unlikely, by the Baltimore Orioles.

For a winter season that offers a paucity of snow and ice, reasonably moderate temperatures and an early conclusion.

For a Maryland legislative session that finds a fiscally responsible way to fund public school education.

For an economy that keeps buzzing along, providing ample opportunity and fair wages for American workers.

For Eastern Shore farmers to retain close ties to China’s market without inference from the federal government and its ill-advised tariffs.

For a cure for Alzheimer’s disease, which robs too many people of cognitive lives and family members of loved ones.

For a resurgence, if possible, of local news in our country, harmed by the loss of local newspapers and consequent accountability of government bodies.

For a restoration of trust in private and public-sector institutions wracked by self-dealing by board members in violation of conflict-of-interest standards.

For peace and freedom from deadly acts of terrorism, fueled worldwide by religious intolerance and fanatical beliefs.

For a return to civility and respect among elected officials belonging to different political parties, and among friends who disagree politically and philosophically.

For a balance between small businesses and big-box stores that can and do rob towns and cities of their economic core.

For humor that unites, not divides groups drawn by common interests.

For mitigation of tribalism that isolates adherents of particular viewpoints and lifestyles from those who live and think differently.

For the continued outlet of hope and optimism in a world rife with pessimism and cynicism.

For the strengthening of land preservation on the Eastern Shore to preclude haphazard development and sprawl.

For the continued improvement, though slow, in the health of the Chesapeake Bay.

For the iconic oyster to flourish and survive in our favorite estuary, free of disease and overfishing.

For philanthropy to remain strong in the Mid-Shore area to enable worthy non-profit organizations to serve the public good.

For the Maryland General Assembly to indoctrinate, repeatedly, its members on the evil of political corruption by enriching themselves and abusing their positions of power and influence, thus destroying the public trust and confirming the longtime perception by some about politicians on the take.

For state transportation leaders to focus not just on vehicular solutions to logjams on Route 50 and the Capital Beltway, but also innovative transit options, which, though expensive, improve the environment and slow down the effects of global warming.

For admission to colleges and universities free of scandal generated by misguided parents who believe that everything is for sale, regardless of the ethical consequences.

For a competent, compassionate and moral leader in the White House.

As Thomas Jefferson said, “I steer my bark with Hope in the head, leaving Fear astern. My hopes, indeed, sometimes fail; but not oftener than the forebodings of the gloomy.”

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Out and About (Sort of): Letter to Grandchildren (Part Two) by Howard Freedlander

December 23, 2019 by Howard Freedlander

Dear Van, Kit, Elliott and Lizzie:

(As I promised last week, the following resumes my Christmas letter to the four of you. I hope you find it useful In forming your own thoughts about this special holiday).

I’ve dwelled on family. Another joyful part of Christmas is friendship. When you are invited to parties, go and have fun. Relationships with friends give life a special dimension. As family connections sometimes prove troublesome for known and unknown reasons, relationships between friends often are less complicated and provide a cushion when family ties fray temporarily.

The Christmas spirit draws friends, neighbors, schoolmates and others who may not have a family unit with which to gather. It calls for sharing your home and good cheer with others. Being alone amid the joy and merriment of a widely celebrated holiday is difficult.

As you grow older, you too will experience how quickly Christmas comes and goes after so much preparation and excitement. Retain the memories.
Know that life’s good and bad moments pass at the same speed. Savor the moment. Relish the joy.

And, yes, feel and share the love.

Nana and Paps will be part of your memories after they no longer are around. Feel buoyed by the love they showed you, even at the rare times they said no.

When growing up, your mothers, Kate and Bess, loved the goodness of Christmas now shared with you, their children. They brought Nana and Paps so much joy in their absolute enjoyment of this festive holiday. I still recall, Elliott and Lizzie, when your mother performed the role of Mary in a live nativity on the grounds of St. Mark’s United Methodist Church in Easton.

Nana and I beamed with pride at daughter Bess’ performance. You will do the same when your children perform in a play.

Merry Christmas, grandsons and granddaughters. Your real gifts are not the ones under the tree wrapped neatly and colorfully, ordered so easily these days on the Internet. Instead, the sense of family and heartfelt love are the unseen gifts—and they last a lifetime.

Amazon doesn’t sell the essence of family, the value of friendship.

This time of merriment and fellowship marks no other holiday. It’s a time to thank God for all of our blessings. It’s a time of hope for a peaceful future.
For me, you make Christmas so very special.

The glow of Christmas is brighter because of you. The sounds and colors of this festive occasion touch my soul, as do you.

Out and About (Sort of): Letter to Grandchildren (Part One) by Howard Freedlander

December 17, 2019 by Howard Freedlander

Dear Van, Kit, Elliott and Lizzie:

If I were to write you all a heartfelt Christmas message explaining what this special holiday means to me, I would compose the following, hoping that each of you would form your own thoughts. Here I go:

As Christmas approaches and the vision of gifts dances in your heads, I hope I can express my emotions in a way that makes sense to you. This holy occasion means different things to different people.

Forty-four years ago, I celebrated my very first family Christmas. Raised in the Jewish tradition, I knew vaguely about trees, wreaths, songs and mirth. I didn’t understand the real meaning. I had been a distant observer.

Then, I was thrust into a celebration with religious and cultural overtones. Despite my upbringing, I loved the vibrancy and family warmth.

Kate with her grandfather, John Pierson

The most important lesson learned early on was the special component of family. I watched, Van and Kit, with interest and admiration as your great-grandfather read the Nativity story in the Bible (in the Gospel according to Luke) to your mother Kate. She listened intently and even asked her Pop-Pop a few questions. He answered patiently, as he always did. Kate was just so attentive sitting by her grandfather’s side, as you can see from the photograph.

As I watched, knowing it once had been your Nana absorbing the Nativity story read to her by Pop-Pop, I marveled at the touching aspects of family. A meaningful tradition was taking place before my eyes.

Your great-grandfather, whom only one of you met as he was dying at Hospice House in Easton, exemplified for this newcomer the role of love and spiritual belief during celebration of a holiday often overtaken by gifts and retail sales.

Your great-grandfather was a World War II veteran raised during the Great Depression in the 1930s. His faith was important to him. His family was his rock.

The value of family cannot be measured. It’s incalculable. In 1990, when I was in Saudi Arabia during Operation Desert Storm, I celebrated Christmas in the desert. While I reveled in the resilient goodwill of Maryland National Guard soldiers, I felt a void created by the absence of my family. I was not alone in that feeling.

Adding to the difficulty of celebrating Christmas in a faraway locale, American soldiers had to cope without trees and decorations in deference to a totally different religious culture. I understood the restriction. I didn’t like it.

Can you imagine no tree, no decorations, no songs—and, yes, no gifts? We still made it special simply by being together and sharing stories and humor. Our Christmas meal was an MRE (Meal Ready to Eat). It was just bearable.

I learned during those initial Christmases with your great-grandparents that this universal holiday is really about children. This observation is not very profound. At this point, you’re probably saying “Duh, of course it is.” Recipients of most of the gifts, children like you feel the impact of generosity. Gifts represent a material act of giving and receiving

But wonderfully wrapped gifts topped by little notes don’t tell the whole story of Christmas. It is a time of charity, to care for, and about the less fortunate for whom gifts are minimal, sadly so.

Your grandmother Nana gives an anonymous gift every Christmas season. She doesn’t tell me the recipient. It’s her particularly godly mission. Her action embodies real charity; she expects no credit, nor gratitude.

I didn’t understand giving for giving’s sake till I opened my eyes to deprivation. That’s a big word that means lack of food, lack of warm clothing and sometimes lack of love that some families experience.

Wonderfully wrapped gifts topped by little notes don’t tell the whole story about Christmas. It is a time of charity, to care for, and about the less fortunate for whom gifts are minimal, sadly so.

I’ll stop here and resume this letter Monday, Dec. 23. I ‘ve got a little more to say.

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Out and About (Sort of): Recliner by Howard Freedlander

December 10, 2019 by Howard Freedlander

How could a simple, consensus purchase of a recliner prompt so much discontent from my wife and result in an expensive redo of our family room?

I wasn’t altogether surprised. Recliners have a special place in my wife’s furnishing dislikes.

But this time should have been different. She blessed the purchase.

Except we both were not aware that a comfortable leather chair sitting in the broad expanse of the parking lot of Talbottown Shopping Center on a hot mid-August day during Bountiful’s annual Once in a Blue Moon sale was actually a recliner. Sound ridiculous? Of course.

Trust then verify—we didn’t do that. It looked scalable to the space where it would reside.

When the chair was delivered and placed in a spot in our family room, my wife noticed two things: a recliner was in our midst, and its size dominated the room. Complaints and constant moving around of furniture began in earnest.

It was as if every time my wife looked at our new acquisition—which I loved, and in which I began to nap daily—she felt compelled to express her discomfort.

Meanwhile, the new chair and I bonded immediately. I quickly realized that my wife would never use the recliner. I would be the sole occupant. I could live with that.

To complement/soften the aesthetic effect of the recliner, my dutiful wife commissioned the re-upholstery of cushions and an ottoman. After this work was completed, the protests seemed to diminish, if not vanish.

Peace now reigned in the family room.

Now there is a back story to the brouhaha over the recliner. When we were first married, living in an apartment in which I had lived as a bachelor, I owned a recliner. It was not as fashionable (or expensive) as the current one. To me, it was wonderful, my own seat of power and relaxation. Its ugliness, as seen by others, was not apparent to me.

After a few months of marriage, my beloved recliner vanished. It happened so quickly, I didn’t immediately realize that what was my abode had new co-ownership.

My sense of control was illusory. My decision-making was shared. My input into domestic furnishing and decorating had dissipated. There was a new sheriff in town.

I never imagined that I would own a large, cushy recliner ever again. Instead, I would be left with memories of a solitary existence in an apartment that featured a recliner. I would not yearn for what seemed out of question.

Life takes strange turns. Once again, a recliner adds comfort to my life. My naps are more frequent. My contentment has grown. The electrical controls are easy.

And, yes, my wife is satisfied. I think.

At least for the moment.

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Out and About (Sort of): Back Again by Howard Freedlander

December 3, 2019 by Howard Freedlander

Family, plentiful food, football, chatter, dogs, good but cool weather, soothing ocean and lack of crowds—what’s not to like about Thanksgiving week in Rehoboth, DE?

We have established a tradition, one that is maybe five-years-old. Traditions have to start somewhere.

The big, old house, wonderfully located, separated by a road from the beach and Atlantic Ocean, has become a home, populated by memories of anniversaries and holiday celebrations.

Thanksgiving Ocean dipper ignores cold weather

This is not the first, nor the last time I will feel compelled by the muse of reflection to write about an experience devoid of tension or obligation (not completely).

One caveat: untrained and mostly inept, I am the designated turkey-bird carver. I had a mishap this year. I cut myself. I said nothing as I carved and tried to stanch the blood. I was surrounded by bosses who would have sidelined me had they known about my minor wound.

No blood landed on the unsuspecting turkey. I completed my task, pleased with my secrecy. The meal was delicious. The turkey slices were chunkier than preferred due to my momentary lack of hand mobility. The grandchildren were well-behaved; their father permitted them to exit quickly, only to return for dessert.

My bloody mishap was discovered when it came time to clean up. My wife became alarmed at the sight of my finger and summarily dismissed me from the kitchen. My daughter efficiently assumed the nursing duties, demanding I accept her ministrations. As usual, she ignored my stubbornness.

Rehoboth, DE beach draws visitors in cooler weather

As I write this, I am staring at two Labrador Retrievers, resting in their beds after exerting little effort during their pampered stay at the beach. One, unfortunately, is mostly disabled, able to walk with difficulty. The other (ours) is mellow. She endures, rather than seeks exercise. Some have remarked about her weight. I empathize with her—and sometimes give her human food.

Harmony or lack thereof marks most families. It’s unavoidable at times; humans just clash. Though a full participant in conversation, I also observe the dynamic created by very different personalities. The underlying element is strength, softened by compassion and generosity of spirit.

Adaptation is imperative, though not always easy; in some ways, the grandchildren provide a leavening effect. Meeting their needs and keeping peace require constant attention from parents, grandparents and an aunt.

The house is ideal for family togetherness and even quiet separateness. It seems to summon memories and conversation about my deceased in-laws and raucous times fueled by libation and food. While I don’t believe in ghosts, I do believe in the calming intervention of spirit.

Laughter minimizes the pain of loss.

Politics was not a frequent subject. Perhaps it’s because we mostly share the same opinions and sentiments. I realize this is not true of many families; avoidance of sensitive subjects becomes a priority, if not a necessity.

Similar political viewpoints are beneficial to family harmony, I suppose. Peace and tranquility prevail.

Our last day was Black Friday. The commercial onslaught leading to Christmas begins its sales-driven frenzy. I applaud capitalism. On the day after Thanksgiving, however, I’m content to remain bound to my temporary quarters.

For me, it’s Resistance Friday. I refuse to engage in the shopping mayhem—despite the reduced prices.

I witnessed one sight on Black Friday that struck me as crazy and gutsy: a man arrived on the beach, removed all but his bathing suit, jumped into the cold ocean, immediately climbed out and put back on his clothes. He seemed nonplussed.

I took pictures of this ocean dipper. I thought family members wouldn’t believe me without evidence. For a moment, at least, he declared his independence from Rehoboth’s endless outlet malls.

Christmas awaits us in three weeks. I wonder if the intrepid ocean dipper will celebrate by testing his mettle again in the cold Atlantic Ocean.

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Out and About (Sort of): Not So Distant by Howard Freedlander

November 26, 2019 by Howard Freedlander

On a cold Wednesday afternoon, my wife and I saw a matinee movie that was anything but joyful. The story line described a despicable time in American history.

The cold air that greeted us on our way to the car failed to jolt us from cinematic pathos.

“Harriet,” the movie about the renowned Harriet Tubman, raised as a slave in Dorchester County, transfixed us. Incredible bravery, mind-numbing fear, unspeakable cruelty and unshakeable faith in God were the North Stars that guided a woman responsible for rescuing 73 slaves from slavery on the Eastern Shore of Maryland.

She continued to risk her life, as she made several trips to the Eastern Shore to free family, friends and many others. As her notoriety increased, so did frantic attempts by angry slaveowners to capture her and her followers. She was not dissuaded from a dangerous quest.

The story is well-known. Her use of the Underground Railroad—actually a route of escape through woods and via rivers, aided by compassionate co-conspirators during the tortuous journey—was uncanny.

Direction of the movie was tight and focused. While violence was prevalent, always lurking in the lives of slaves, the movie employed it sparingly, but effectively.

The Tubman character was dominant, as expected. Her performance was riveting.

So was God, who guided her, often to the exclusion of potential violence when a voice instructed Tubman to take another route to freedom.

And the character of the young plantation owner, fighting to preserve slavery and economic success, could not resist the evil demons that underscored enslavement. At times, he seemed overwhelmed by the pressure to retain an economic and social model that only generated resentment and a yearning for freedom.

Another key player in this Tubman biopic was the plantation, a place that at first glance seemed peaceful. It was anything but.

The slaves wanted to be free. That was total heresy to the Broadus family. The plantation raised crops and oppression in equal measure.

I expected, of course, to be impressed by Tubman and repulsed by the slave conditions. Tubman was relentlessly determined; she would accept nothing but freedom for herself, family and others seeking to shake the physical and mental shackles of involuntary servitude.

Treatment of the slaves was degrading, often inhuman and unconscionable. The movie portrayed a cruel and decadent culture. In some ways, the slaveowners were enslaved by a way of life that blinded them to the iniquity of slavery.

While “Harriet” had some Hollywood touches, it seemed historically accurate to the long-told story of an unlikely but effective freedom fighter.

Some movies should not be missed. This is one.

(As Thanksgiving approaches in two days, we can feel grateful that the institution of slavery no longer infects our American society. Unfortunately, prejudice is still alive and well among White Nationalists in our country. It’s shameful. Harriet Tubman serves as a vital reminder that resistance to bias fraught with violence requires a Tubman-like passion.)

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Out and About (Sort of) Sweet Scent of Victory by Howard Freedlander

November 19, 2019 by Howard Freedlander

(I wrote this column nearly three weeks ago. More urgent columns interfered, delaying publication of this essay, which I trust is still relevant.)

Escapism, that wonderful world where we can briefly block out dread and misery, came alive in full bloom nearly two weeks ago when the Washington Nationals defeated the Houston Astros in the seventh game of the 2019 World Series.

Washington, DC, the source of scarce good news, would claim its first World Series championship since 1924.

The underdog had won.

An older pitcher recovering from muscle spasms that ruled him out of hurling in the fifth game struggled through five innings, giving up two runs, in the seventh and deciding game.

A 94-year-old owner who brought the Washington Nationals to the nation’s capital in 2006 and watched his team stumble sadly in playoffs in recent years could celebrate a monumental sports achievement in the city in which he was raised.

A team that had a dismal record of 19 and 31 in May climbed the highest mountain in Major League Baseball and claimed the pinnacle.

A manager who underwent a heart procedure during the season, a mere blip as ii turned out, guided his team to an October high.

Baseball, our national pastime often surpassed in the public psyche by the more exciting and jarring sport of pro football, grabbed attention and headlines. Deservedly so.

Comebacks are to be cherished. Storybook endings can happen in real life. Rarely, but poignantly.

Through seven games, all that mattered were balls and strikes, superb pitching and timely hitting at times, periodic heroics, hard-fought victories—and just plain, nerve-racking fun. As it’s supposed to be.

I was rooting for the Lerner Family as much as I was the Nats. A college friend is part of the family and actively involved with the team. Since 2012, he has kindly invited me and friends to the owner’s suite at Nationals Park. I’ve often brought bad karma, mostly watching losses and feeling apologetic to my gracious host.

I’ve watched Mr. Lerner watch games. He is typically stoic. Sometimes painfully so. Young players making gobs of money would perform poorly. It’s baseball, after all. Expectations are high.

Enjoying the lush circumstances of the owner’s suite, I often wondered how Mr. Lerner and family members could calmly accept a strikeout by a highly paid star player with the bases loaded, and the game on the line. Or an error made from lack of concentration. Troubling but always characteristic of a game where mistakes are so visible.

If a spectator who paid ample money for a ticket and expensive food and drink felt perturbed at plays not made in the field or at bat, how must an owner who has invested millions in player salaries, scouting and facilities feel in similar situations?

Philosophical, I guess. What’s great about baseball—and indeed life—is that an athlete always has another time at bat, another chance to strike a ball, not just air, or to field a ball flawlessly and execute a double play.

Maybe there’s a reason that baseball is the national pastime. It requires skill. It requires hard work. It requires patience. And it requires mental discipline to forget your past strikeout or poorly located pitched ball that becomes a home run.

Redemption is just around the corner. The taste of success is quickly achievable—and momentary. On to the next stumble, next error of judgment. Next game-changing hit or fielding gem.

The Nationals are now world champions. The euphoria still pervades the team and city. The fan adulation is intoxicating.

The Lerner Family persevered. It continued to invest in high-priced athletes. It kept its eye on the often-disappointed fan base.

Victory on the world stage overshadows the difficult, tortuous journey. Anything is possible. The past is just that. The future offers hope and promise.

Bring on 2020 and no assurance of similar success. Star players will leave for mind-blogging riches. Loyalty is illusory. Money matters.

My guess is that the Washington Nationals will always embody grit and determination. And the hot dogs, though over-priced, taste so much better at a ballpark.

No give-up is a guiding principle. A universal concept, right?

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