Symbolism matters. So does well-deserved recognition. Often, both take awhile, unfortunately.

I am referring to stalling efforts by the Trump Administration, for oblique reasons decipherable only to it, to place the Eastern Shore’s famed and intrepid Underground Railroad conductor, Harriet Tubman, on the 20-dollar bill to replace the racist President Andrew Jackson.

The Biden Administration has reversed its predecessor’s obstruction, moving ahead to place one of our nation’s fiercest slavery fighters on US currency. The new Tubman 20 likely will not materialize until 2025.

Some may ask: Who cares? Why does it matter?

American currency memorializes our Founding Fathers, such as Presidents Washington and Jefferson and Citizen Extraordinaire Ben Franklin, Presidents Lincoln, Ulysses Grant and Franklin Delano Roosevelt, as well as Alexander Hamilton. Raised in a traditional, patriotic manner, I always imagined (when I was not capriciously spending it) that those pictured or engraved were people whom I should respect, if not revere.

And so I did. Until I learned more about these flawed individuals whose wisdom and common sense still impresses me, in most cases. If I am a young person being taught the meaning of money and about those portrayed on coins and bills, then I would think that someone like Harriet Tubman is an ideal choice.

If some might consider her a politically correct choice to replace the disruptive Jackson, I have one response: baloney.

She is a superb choice. If informed properly by parents or grandparents, children today would learn that Tubman was a heroic savior for slaves in Dorchester County. This intrepid woman was fearless. Slavery imprisoned her friends and family in an inhumane system that trampled people’s spirits, if not killed them as if they were worthless chattel.

It was a shameful socio-economic system that still haunts our nation, if not condemns it for its pernicious past. Tubman’s image on a $20 bill would compel parents and teachers to explain why a little Black woman—with incredible courage and unmatched skill in navigating the countryside and avoiding merciless slave hunters—deserves to be memorialized.

She would be a role model. As a Black woman, she shattered all misconceptions; she surpassed men in her courage and conviction. She was relentless.

Though uneducated, she expressed her eloquence and passion through life-defying actions in a society that in some quarters considered her a no-good thief.

After all, she was stealing property from slave owners, many opined. Tubman’s story must be told. She did not steal. She gave slaves freedom extracted amorally from them.

A $20 bill with the image of a small, determined women staring out at a world still riddled with anti-Black prejudice pays appropriate homage to a Dorchester County native—and American hero.

A tribute written in 1868 by Talbot County native, orator and renown abolitionist, Frederick Douglass, aptly underscores the depth and daring of Harriet Tubman in using her uncanny expertise to carry slaves to lives free of mental and economic shackles:

“I have had the applause of the crowd and the satisfaction that comes of being approved by the multitude, while the most that you have done has been witnessed by a few trembling, scarred, and foot-sore bondmen and women, whom you have led out of the house of bondage, and whose heartfelt, “God bless you,” has been your only reward. The midnight sky and the silent stars have been the witnesses of your devotion to freedom and of your heroism.”

Symbolism has meaning. It conveys a story well worth telling to all Americans. In this case, it also shines a light on a despicable part of our history.

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 week about the proposed purchase of the Baltimore Sun, Capital Gazette and Carroll County Times by a non-profit foundation formed by Maryland businessman-philanthropist Stewart Bainum, Jr., I was overjoyed. It clearly qualified as good news.

The still-incomplete sale will save the Sun from acquisition by a hedge fund renown for cutting newsroom staff and hence local content. The nearly 184-year-old Sun will enter a phase that hopefully will focus on exhaustive local coverage, not ruthless cost-cutting that damages an important tool for democracy.

When I read last week about heroic efforts by news reporters in Texas to ignore their personal discomfort to cover the severe impact of the storm-caused power outages, again I understood the value of journalism to communities hungry for news and information. One news outlet, the digital Texas Tribune, provided public service information separately needed by residents about the weather disaster.

This is not my first column about the nexus between responsible journalism and community engagement. As a former journalist who learned first-hand about the importance of local news to rural residents, I understand the overriding need for citizens in large and small communities to be informed, to be stirred up at times and to feel comfortable with a steady and reliable flow of information.

Word-of-mouth news dissemination is valuable, though often distorted by the flawed human condition to listen only so well and overlay the spoken word with innate bias.

Bainum’s Sunlight for All Institute is viewed by many, including the news staff, as a savior. The heir to a fortune generated by Manor Care Nursing Homes and current CEO of Choice Hotels, Bainum is a former state legislator who lives in Takoma Park, MD. Though not a Baltimorean, he is investing his own money in an institution that serves not just Charm City, but also the entire state.

Why does a non-profit business model matter to survival of a once revered regional newspaper, one that at one time had foreign bureaus?

Though a business concerned too about the bottom line, a non-profit does not have to satisfy investors by making a tidy profit. It can focus on the product and the quality of the content in this case. A lean, understaffed newsroom may very well see some expansion and experience less fear of crippling layoffs.

Bainum, investing his own funds while accepting significant contributions from Baltimore’s Abel and Goldseker foundations—as well as other donations— can provide a boost to a newspaper serving a community yearning for information and government accountability. A newsroom decimated by periodic layoffs and resignations by skilled journalists deprives the public square of dialogue and dissent.

My earlier reference to Texan journalists suffering themselves from cold and misery, while serving readers, testifies to the role played by the print, digital and electronic media. If knowledge is power, then information and civic engagement are vital for public nutrition.

However, we do not need disasters and consequent media coverage to justify the need for a strong free press.

I dearly hope that the sale of the Baltimore Sun, the Capital Gazette in Annapolis and the Carroll County Times in Westminster will go through without undue delay and complication. Also, I hope that readers interested in a healthy democracy spurred by a thriving news outlet will support their print and digital news outlets through generous donations.

The for-profit Star Democrat needs subscribers and advertisers, along with loyal readers. The non-profit Talbot Spy needs donors, advertisers and readers. Without financial support, they will fail. A news and cultural void will result. The community will lose its glue.

The information infrastructure that undergirds every community will dissipate. Consider the local media as you would a public utility. It is invaluable.

This is not a fundraising pitch. Instead, I am encouraging readers to accept that the free press is not free. It requires grassroots philanthropy.

“Take me ham away, take away my eggs, even my chili, but leave me my newspaper,” Will Rogers, the great American humorist, once said. He was right.

Responsible news reporting provides sustenance for the mind and soul.

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.

A recent study by a transportation consultant questioned the need for a third Bay Bridge span, citing inaccurate traffic projections used by the Maryland Transportation Authority in justifying an additional Bay crossing.

While the state foresaw the need for a new bridge by 2040, the consultant’s study calls not for another span, but massive overhaul of the existing East-West traffic connectors after 2065.

The all-consuming Covid-19 may skew traffic patterns in a way that no one anticipated nearly a year ago: telecommuting may become a permanent part of the workplace, not just a reaction to the lockdown of offices driven by the real prospect of spreading a sometime deadly virus through personal contact.

My journalistic output on this subject even surprises me. Tenacity is one thing, redundancy another. However, this writer strongly believes that the state should cease its understandable preoccupation with vehicular travel and look seriously at rapid transit, despite its cost.

The independence and convenience provided by a car, not to speak of storage capacity, is undeniable. Nonetheless, I suggest that transportation planners focus on a third span devoted entirely to electric transportation.

Annapolis decision-makers should cease its lunge toward building another span for cars and figure how they could design a rapid transit solution that would preserve the Eastern Shore as a precious part of Maryland—one protected from automobile congestion and pollution and preserved for farming, open space, rural life and peace of mind uncluttered by urban stimuli.

Stop the headlong momentum toward a third span festooned with cars carrying families and surfboards to Maryland and Delaware beaches. Stop the threat to the Delmarva Peninsula and its highly desirable quality of life. Stop the inevitable encroachment of urban development.

Is it understandable why thousands and thousands of families seek the fun and frolic of Ocean City, Fenwick Island Rehoboth? Of course, it makes sense—and money for merchants and state coffers. But transportation experts can examine other options, albeit expensive ones, that might carry beachgoers by faster modes.

And clean the air. And save valuable farmland from the acre-eater growth of houses, shopping centers and roads.

Maybe Covid-19, relegating all of us to relative isolation and our own hitherto unexamined thoughts, might effectively compel policy- makers to slow down and smell the wondrous odor of mental relaxation.

Who has not enjoyed nature walks, bike rides and meandering car trips to areas and wildlife refuges previously overlooked, if not ignored?

Recently I listened as a friend described how he and his wife, 17-year residents of Talbot County, have enjoyed some of their constricted time traveling by car in replicating recommended walking tours. They have spent dashboard time discovering areas previously unknown to them.

I marveled at how excited this friend seemed at taking advantage of enforced seclusion. He savored the natural assets of the Eastern Shore. I have heard the same from friends about visits to Wye Island in Queen Anne’s County and Blackwater Wildlife Refuge in Dorchester County.

Though my words may betray me, I am no single-focus environmentalist. I am, however, obsessed with preserving the goodness of rural, small-town life on the Eastern Shore.

A third Bay Bridge enabling thousands and thousands of cars and vacation-hungry families would destroy a way of life that screams to be sustained and valued.

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.

As talk these days seems consumed with the distribution of the Covid-19 vaccine —have you gotten your shot? how did you do it? —it’s become increasingly apparent that one group of Americans doesn’t trust the inoculations.

I’m speaking about African-Americans, including those working in hospitals and nursing homes who refuse to be vaccinated. A prevalent and nagging thought, understandably so, is the Tuskegee Experiment that misled and deceived black participants into thinking they would receive free medical care for syphilis. They didn’t. The study lasted 40 years, instead of the six months related to the participants.

Over time, I’ve learned that blacks distrust the white medical world. While this feeling may have diminished, it has not disappeared. Some feel mistreated, if not disrespected.

Racism is deep-seated. Its ugly results are ingrained into the black psyche. It’s as if the black community is infected with an untreatable and chronic virus of distrust and fear.

As I read recently, African-Americans represent a third of the Covid-19 deaths nationwide. That is a fact that is startling and upsetting. It symbolizes a sordid aspect of American life.

According to a Nov. 20, 2020 article in the Washington Post, citing a surge of Covid cases throughout the country, “…losses among racial and ethnic minorities remain disproportionately large. Black Americans were 37 percent more likely to die than Whites after controlling for age, sex and mortality rates over time.” The Post analyzed 5.8 million records of people who tested positive for coronavirus.

Last week, a friend, a black woman raised on the Eastern Shore, called me wondering what groups, and what people could persuade blacks, including health care workers, to push aside their apprehension and roll up their sleeves for a life-saving vaccination. What first came to mind were black religious leaders willing to exhort their parishioners to battle a crippling, sometime fatal disease.

I felt so helpless when my friend sought my advice. Racism as manifested in a malevolent U.S. Health Service study is not easily erased from the memories of blacks who for hundreds of years in our country have suffered other, insidious forms of hatred and mistreatment.

As so often happens in our complex country, cures and remedies for medical and societal problems and mysteries face human obstacles created by past transgressions. Pfizer, Moderna and Johnson & Johnson are incapable of finding a solution to the detrimental effect of bigotry.

If not genetic, bias often seems an unflinching part of the human condition. It has no beneficial side effects.

Were I given the opportunity to ascend to a religious pulpit, I would urge, using an equal measure of logic and passion, my fellow black citizens to conduct their own experiment: trust the system and protect themselves, their families and their communities.

I would not presume that I would be effective, or even slightly convincing. That would be hubris.

I believe that the vaccine and those administering it are color-blind. I believe it critically important that the Covid-19 menace must stop ruling and ruining our lives.

Deep-seated fear of white medicine and white promises must be thrust aside for the sake of safety.

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.

“I am proud to have joined you in ambitious, high-impact work so essential to democracy. You stood up against vilification and vile threats. You stood firm against cynical, nerve-wracking assaults on objective fact.”

So said Marty Baron in a letter to the Washington Post staff announcing his retirement as of Feb. 28, 2021 after eight years as executive editor of one of nation’s best and often most controversial newspapers. In his heartfelt letter, he wrote that “working at the Washington Post allows each of us to serve a purpose bigger than ourselves.”

While I understand that many friends on the Eastern Shore consider the Post a “liberal rag” and “mouthpiece for the Democratic Party,” I disagree. It offers first-rate coverage of international, national and local news, particularly when it reports on the fractious, dysfunctional operation of presidential and congressional actions (or non-actions) and decisions (good, bad and downright nonsensical). 

I would concede that its opinions often reflect a left to center-left perspective, with balance provided by conservative writers like George Will.

I also realize, given the personal investment of a healthy dose of capital from Amazon founder and chief executive, Jeff Bezos, this newspaper has a firm financial foundation, unlike smaller, struggling newspapers throughout the country. 

The difference between The Star Democrat and the Washington Post is comparable to a rowboat versus a yacht. Yet both are providing the first draft of history and hopefully holding public officials accountable; the former’s journalistic DNA, however, does not lend itself to tough, investigative reporting.

When I think about the Post during the past eight years under Baron’s steady, passionate leadership, I commend its relentless coverage and, yes, criticism of a White House leased for four horrible, deceitful years by a president intent on destroying the basic tenets of democracy. 

The assault on the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6 after irresponsibly inflammatory remarks by the president symbolizes, literally and figuratively, Trump’s onerous disregard for democracy. He and his crazed followers wanted to overturn the results of the 2020 presidential election and the legitimate votes of Americans living in Arizona, Georgia, Pennsylvania and Michigan.

Where would our country stand in retaining the precious right to vote were it not for our judicial system and a free, unfettered press?

I’ve observed many instances when party politics and professional loyalties interfered, if not stymied investigations into unsavory and often illegal, public behavior. Journalism, as practiced by those willing to view themselves as serving a cause (democracy), is often the dogged, relentless watchdog willing to withstand scorn and condemnation to hold public officials accountable.

At the risk of possibly retelling a story, as the editor of the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer, 1979-1981, I learned that a local politician was wont to serve alcohol to voters standing in line to vote. It was a quaint, little custom. It also was illegal. I reported on this low-level stunt. The practice was discontinued. The public official, well-regarded and well-liked, never spoke to me again. His anger was understandable. I felt nonplussed by his shunning.

When I think about Marty Baron, featured as editor of the Boston Globe in the film, “Spotlight,” which described the controversy over the sexual predatory practices of Roman Catholic priests in Boston and the shrewd cover-up by the church hierarchy. I lean toward the word, “gutsiness.” 

Why?

“Spotlight” watchers learned that battling the ultra-powerful Catholic diocese was risky business. The ethic in the media and the legal community was governed by a stern reluctance, if not outright refusal, to challenge or criticize the church. Cardinal Bernard Law was powerful, unquestioned by religious and secular leaders, as well as by frightened parishioners.

A poignant scene occurred in the movie when Cardinal Law gives the character playing Marty Baron, a Jew, a book about catechism, a summary of Christian beliefs and principles. The “gift” represented a slyly patronizing way to warn Baron that he was on foreign turf that he should navigate carefully.

Even a newspaper as large and influential as the Washington Post is always treading on thin ice when it confronts powerful, ruthless political leaders operating at the top echelon of U.S. government. 

The journalistic journey is rife with threats, bombast and ostracism. Access to key figures and vital information become closed. Phone calls go unanswered. Scoops are given to rival reporters.

As an avid reader of the Post. I applaud Baron and his steadfast commitment to responsible journalism and democracy. A free press is not an “enemy of the people.” It does not traffic in “fake news.” It’s often a window to unexamined corruption. 

It shines a light when some would want to extinguish it.

Baron wrote in his farewell note, “We must listen generously to others. We owe the public rigorous, thorough and honorable reporting, and then an honest, unflinching account of what we discover.”

Our democracy, though soiled and stained during the past four years, is strong and lasting. Responsible, tough-minded journalism is an inexorable contributor to a country that thrives on uninhibited, reasoned dialogue.

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.

 

Death last Tuesday night of Russell Brinsfield, 76, from complications following minor surgery has robbed the Eastern Shore of an exceptional leader in land use and sound agricultural practices. He had battled Parkinson’s Disease for several years.

He led the Harry R. Hughes Maryland Agri-Ecology Center as founding director or 16 years, and Wye Research and Education Center, both in Queenstown, for 34 years.

He was mayor for 22 years of Vienna in Dorchester County, where he also owned a 150-acre farm.

He also held bachelor’s, master’s and Ph.D. degrees from the University of Maryland in agricultural engineering.

And Brinsfield was a co- founder and first president of the Eastern Shore Land Conservancy (ESLC). He saw the urgent need to preserve land and farms on the Eastern Shore and prevent sprawl and the loss of valuable open space and farmland.

He was a multi-faceted man whose many accomplishments were hidden behind a soft-spoken, low-key persona. He was driven and committed in a likable way. While he was rooted in Dorchester County, he also was obsessed with data and progress in protecting the health of the Chesapeake Bay.

I first met Brinsfield when I served as a deputy state treasurer and liaison to the powerful Board of Public Works. He sometimes would attend in his role as mayor of Vienna, usually on a Program Open Space matter. When Comptroller William Donald Schaefer would see him in the audience, he would summon Brinsfield to the lectern, call him the best mayor in Maryland and bless whatever project he was advocating.

Brinsfield accepted Schaefer’s support in his typically modest way, his Dorchester County dialect clearly audible. If I recall correctly, Schaefer would thank Brinsfield for a cake or pie that he brought him. Brinsfield knew how to appeal to the former Baltimore mayor’s and former governor’s sweet tooth and taste for flattery.

I believe that other folks in the Governor’s Reception Room joked among themselves about asking the Vienna mayor to advocate for them to avoid the ire from the sometime cantankerous state comptroller.

Also during my tenure as a deputy treasurer, I recall a study assembled by the Maryland Department of Planning and the Maryland Agro-Ecology Center calling for, and justifying agricultural downzoning. It was highly controversial among the state’s farmers, advocating for the diminution of “development rights.” Farmers feared that the value of their properties would decrease, because proposed zoning changes would forbid two-acre lots in favor of 20-to-50-acre lots.

The study showed that the property values did not drop. In many cases, sprawl was kept at bay.

Russ Brinsfield did not fear controversy or disagreement when it concerned the preservation of farmland so important to the quality of rural life on the Eastern Shore and the precious health of the Chesapeake Bay. He didn’t seek discord, nor did he avoid it.

As an ESLC board member, I have learned about his invaluable role in establishing this well-regarded land trust 30 years ago. He mentored Rob Etgen, the founding executive director and president, introducing him to farmers and potential donors.

Like so many other things he did, Brinsfield worked quietly and effectively to create an organization that has preserved more than 65,000 acres in an area that encompasses Cecil, Kent, Caroline, Queen Anne’s, Talbot and Dorchester counties. Etgen is a well-acclaimed land trust leader and advocate.

He was a gentleman, a scientist, a farmer, a politician and civic leader. He was a friend and counselor to many. He eschewed fanfare.

Russ Brinsfield left an indelible mark on his beloved Eastern Shore. We should feel grateful to this Shoreman.

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.

 

An alarming pall has fallen upon the 442nd session of the 2021 Maryland General Assembly in Annapolis. Fear of a protest like the Jan. 6 insurrection at the U. S. Capitol permeates every state capital in our fractious country, specifically tomorrow, Inauguration Day in Washington.

It’s disappointing and distressing. The threat is real. Those who propagated the horrible assault on our citadel of democracy two weeks ago are supposedly planning protests in state capitals.

Any resemblance these irresponsible people have to patriots is illusory. They are pursuing action grounded in fictional evidence of election fraud. They are questioning the legitimate votes of citizens living in states such as Arizona, Georgia, Michigan and Pennsylvania.

They are using protests to argue against democracy, which they likely feel they are protecting in the name of total nonsense. It’s shameful, if not dangerous and divisive.

When I drove last Thursday near Maryland’s historic State House in Annapolis with my 10-year-old grandson, I pointed out police cars that normally are not sitting in key locations, as a deterrent to abominable behavior. My grandson asked me: why state capitals?

Because they too represent our precious democracy under attack by misguided men and women distrustful of our nearly flawless election process.

Grandparents love to convey a scintilla of wisdom to their loved ones to help guide them in their lives. I had no wisdom to pass along, just dismay. I could tell him only the bare truth: some of our fellow citizens are determined to wreak havoc for reasons evident only to them and their twisted ways of thinking.

These fellow Americans traffic in conspiracies. They are delusional.

Death of a political giant added to the pall.

Last Friday, our political structure in Maryland suffered a great blow in the death of the former, longtime president of the Maryland State Senate, Thomas V. Mike Miller, Jr. He died at age 78 of prostate cancer, which had invaded his bones. He battled cancer for two years.

Miller was a powerful force in Annapolis and Maryland, one of the most astute politicians to roam the halls of our State House. Few could match his acumen and savvy.

My dealings with Sen. Miller were mostly peripheral. I pled for his cooperation when I served as the Maryland National Guard’s project officer for the 1994 inauguration of Gov.-elect Parris N. Glendening. I knew that their relationship was fraught.

A governor’s inauguration always happens in the cramped State Senate chamber. Though I knew that such a well-attended ceremony would be better suited for the larger, more spacious House of Delegates chamber, I knew better than ignite Miller’s quick-trigger temper and his devotion to tradition and history.

As it turned out, Senate President Miller was gracious, agreeing to every request offered by Glendening and his staff. My worries about Miller and his relationship with the governor-elect were unfounded.

Our paths would cross periodically. His swath of power was so wide and deep that it would have been impossible to avoid his political reach. Like many, I was sometimes surprised by his public profanity and ribald humor.

I wondered: how does he get away with his questionable verbiage?

Mike Miller was a political maestro of immense talent and teach. He knew his turf. He could predict when it would shift and stay ahead of the unpredictable winds of public opinion.

He was a history buff, using the past to guide him in the present and future. He understood human nature, and how it functioned in the crucible of a sometime rough-and-tumble legislative session.

He loved his native state, the State Senate and the Democratic Party. And, yes, he was an avid and protective alumnus of the University of Maryland.

He fought his Stage 4 cancer bravely and gracefully. He could not gather enough votes to beat his worsening prognosis.

Our democracy will survive, bolstered by the likes of Mike Miller, though weakened by shameless protesters in Washington and possibly Annapolis.

Would it not be helpful and healthy if there were a vaccination for common sense and decency? I suspect the clinical trials would prove fruitless.

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.

She grabbed our emotions from the very beginning in April 2016 and never let go. She was mellow, drawing affectionate pats from neighbors, friends and tradespeople.

Liz and I put Sandy, our beloved Yellow Labrador Retriever, to sleep a week ago. It was the right but wrenching decision. She died peacefully, thanks to the ministrations of Dr. Dean Tyson, a superb Easton veterinarian.

I’ve written before about Sandy, with accompanying pictures. I will miss her greatly. I will now brag about her in the past tense. I will choke up a bit, as I do now.

Her real name was Nor’easter Winds Sands of Time, bred by a couple in Parsonsburg, near Salisbury. After 45 minutes of chatter, with periodic weeping by the woman, her health weakened by several strokes, we left the former owners’ home with Sandy. We could not have envisioned the joy that would come our way by this beautifully white-coated Yellow Lab.

Our lives changed for the better that April 2016 afternoon.

Sandy, who would have celebrated her 12th birthday at the end of this month, was becoming less mobile due to increasingly progressive weakness in her hind legs and non-regenerative anemia. The quality of life for this lovable animal was diminishing.

We watched with distress as she coped with her infirmities. Urging her to get up for walks became more insistent; she seemed content to sit and sleep, seemingly unconcerned about her physical needs until she, and we could not ignore them.

Dogs and other pets improve our lives. They make us better people. We forget ourselves while caring for, and about a being that talks to us by saying nothing, wagging its tail in appreciation and fixing its eyes on us to express emotion, or maybe some longing difficult for us at times to fathom.

Seventy-five pounds with a beautiful white coat, Sandy would endear herself, without hardly trying, to many people. She trusted us two-legged beings to treat her well and respectfully. In turn, she would accept as many pats from strangers as her sometimes impatient owners would allow.

She shed religiously. She left her mark wherever she lay down. I would always alert her legion of admirers to beware if they were wearing dark slacks. Most said, maybe too politely, they didn’t mind wearing part of Sandy’s white coat.

Since Sandy died at the Veterinary Medical Center, I’ve talked with others who have endured the sad deaths of dogs and cats. They still grieve the losses. Time may heal, but not erase the pain.

I doubt we will replace our blessed companion. I’m told our reaction is common. We might change our minds, but I doubt it. Our increasing age is an impediment. Our memory of a pet that seemed so perfect to us is another obstacle.

When Liz and I drove on Jan. 5 to Easton from Annapolis, with Sandy lying quietly on the back seat, we knew we might return to the Western Shore without her. We didn’t voice our thoughts. We chose to keep our impending grief to ourselves. Perhaps we didn’t want to share our stress with Sandy in the car.

Our apartment and our lives are emptier now. Our dog-walking shifts have ceased. Our joy of being the recipient of her attachment to us is gone forever. Our longing for a benign presence embodied in a beautiful, mostly white Yellow Lab will not vanish quickly.

She captured our hearts. We happily submitted to her sweet personality. Sandy is a constant presence in my IPhone’s pictorial album. She will not be deleted.

I’ve never mourned a dog as I have Sandy. She sought food, a few daily walks, a comfortable place to sleep—and consistent love. The latter was an unspoken demand that required little, if any effort and was a joy to provide.

Liz and I felt privileged to share nearly five years of our lives with Sandy. We lovingly cared for her, and she for us.

“If there is no Heaven for dogs, then when I die I want to go where they went,” Will Rogers, the great American humorist, wisely observed. It would be a special place where loyalty is valued, and judgments are disallowed.

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.

 

 

A retired CIA analyst who for 12 years prepared the President’s Daily Briefing for four presidents.

A retired Washington, DC architect who helped design the Vietnam War and Korean War memorials in our nation’s capital.

A retired ophthalmologist who during his 22 years of service as a U.S. Navy doctor at Bethesda Naval Hospital treated presidents with eye (not I) problems.

These three people, as well as a former female astronaut and two women who ran a bed and breakfast in the Poconos after careers as a professor of anatomy and a psychologist, are our new neighbors at the BayWoods continuing care retirement community in Annapolis.

After two months adapting to a new life in a new setting, we have caught some glimpses behind their masks of highly accomplished and friendly residents. We are meeting extraordinary people growing older together.

They generally are in their mid-to-late 80s. Many move around with walkers. Many do not.

They are in their final years of life. They left their spacious homes and friends to live in a community where youthfulness and zest for life are hidden behind slower-moving bodies and faces creased and riven by age and experience.

They have adapted to communal living, abiding by rules created by others. While they have stepped aside from living in neighborhoods that comprise old and young, —and constant upkeep of their homes—they are determined to participate in numerous activities. Of course, many outlets at BayWoods for congregating have shut down due to Covid restrictions.

I think about a touching movie entitled the “Quartet,” which portrays the aging but still talented former musicians who are living in a lovely retirement home in England. Among these acclaimed musical artists is a world-renown opera singer and diva (portrayed by Maggie Smith), who demands attention and adulation—but initially refuses to perform in an opera to raise essential money for the refuge, because her considerable skills have diminished.

Maggie Smith’s character relents, but not without angry drama. She puts aside her ego and joins the riveting performance of “The Rigoletto.” It’s a rousing success.

BayWoods is blessed with men and women battling the corrosive effects of aging with the same resoluteness they exhibited in their younger years. While their ambition and drive have mellowed, their past achievements, hidden by humility and physical infirmities, are easily discoverable by listening.

I continue to gain emotional comfort and contentment in my new surroundings. Each day is better than the previous one. My wife is by my side. So is my desire to age gracefully and productively.

I have written previously about the wrenching decision to leave Easton and Talbot County and take on an unfamiliar passage across the aging divide. The journey poses constantly difficult but exciting ebbs and flows.

Our neighbor celebrated his 93rd birthday on Dec. 31. I spent 30 minutes with him as he celebrated his birthday alone. His two daughters, both living in the south, could not visit him due to Covid. His constant companion is loneliness; his wife died eight years ago. Her portrait has a prime spot in his apartment.

I now have a front-row seat watching how people in old bodies have youthful outlooks. They will not simply observe and second-guess. As in “Quartet,” they will continue to strive to hit the high notes of life.

Valuable life lesson.

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.

Thankfully coming to an end, 2020 relentlessly seemed to evoke the words “hope and hopeful” in conversations and in the media. We desperately wanted the viral terror to cease its deadly impact on our initially unprepared nation.

The “Hopeful” signs seen throughout Easton, thanks to Amy Haines, Richard Marks, and the Dock Street Foundation and other benefactors, symbolized the feeling of unity pervasive among so many of us cautiously optimistic about the future.

We all hoped for an accelerated discovery and production of vaccine. That has happened.

We hoped for restoration of sanity, decency and leadership at the White House. That hopefully will happen on Jan. 20, 2021 when Joe Biden becomes the 46th U.S. president.

We hoped that political dysfunction and polarization would be modulated, and that compromise and conciliation might be reinstated in the public arena. That’s now possible, though tortuous.

We hoped that economic and racial inequality would become priorities for our national leadership. We can hope that racial tensions stoked by our irresponsible president will diminish under the Biden Administration. The alternative would be undesirable.

We hoped for renewal of trust in, and respect for the United States by foreign nations disillusioned and disappointed by our country’s erratic and chaotic behavior on the world stage. That must happen.

We hoped for a rebirth of civility in communities throughout our precious union, where disagreement might be expressed in non-confrontational ways. Another must-do.

When 2021 arrives in four days, I think (and hope) that words like freedom, liberation and normalcy will become coins of the literary realm. We will segue from ravenous hope to a compassionate reality.

Freedom could be the watchword for the upcoming new year. It almost seems a perfect aspiration, one that crosses all divisions, actual and perceived, in our country.

Freedom from an insidious disease that has caused nearly 335,000 deaths in our nervous nation.

Freedom and liberation from onerous restrictions on our lives and consequent separation from our families and friends—and debilitating loneliness on the part of older, and younger people alike left so sadly alone by death of a spouse and Covid-caused barriers to family warmth and solace.

Freedom from fear of contracting Covid despite taking constant and annoying precautions.

Freedom from denial and dishonesty peddled daily by a president unable and unwilling to acknowledge a crippling pandemic and its fatal impact.

Freedom to talk face-to-face without a mask with your neighbors, your children, merchants, medical professionals, clergy—and all the people we know and wish we knew.

Freedom to stop hoping for normalcy and actually enjoy it. Some wonder, justifiably, whether normalcy as we knew it prior to March 2020 will ever return. It seems unlikely.

Working from home for white-collar workers may become a permanent part of the economic landscape, particularly if productivity has remained the same, or even improved. Part of at-home work included, of course, the ubiquitous zoom communication.

As all of us learned in the zoom world, we all benefited from not dressing up and driving to meetings. More people could participate from throughout the country. Vehicular pollution decreased. We suffered, however, from a lack of human contact and typical rapport.

A Covid-free world raises many questions:

Will people resume traveling? Will they resume attending large gatherings, be they entertainment or sports venues, or family weddings and reunions?

How quickly will Americans, starved of human contact for 10 months, do as they did prior to the pandemic? Will there be an understandable reluctance to gather in groups?

We have lived with a steady diet of hope and expectation. Once vaccinations are completed, maybe this summer—and they are proven safe and effective—freedom to live normally will replace fervent hope with comfortable human routines.

To Spy readers, I wish you and your families a new year that brings unrestrained happiness and an end to disabling isolation. Freedom is an invaluable asset. We’ve all learned that freedom from anxiety is a natural desire stifled for the past 10 months.

Maybe we’ll shake hands again and hug loved ones. Simple pleasures may become commonplace 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.