Howard Freedlander

Out and About (Sort of): Coping – A Coronavirus Poetic Perspective by Howard Freedlander

April 7, 2020 by Howard Freedlander 2 Comments

Being isolated, staying within yourself
Reading, talking and writing, accepting quiet
No deadlines, no rush, no must-to’s, no busy days
Seems like living in a mandated daze.

Taking the dog for more frequent walks
Lingering longer over news updates about a virus
Current times have no recent precedent
Seems like a time of living through the fog of an accident.

Moping is no answer, no solution
Emotional distress offers no relief
Fear is normal, but in moderate measure
Seems like a time for thoughtful leisure.

Calls to friends and family are longer
Conversation seems more meaningful
We’re all in the same shaky boat
Seems like a time to dote and maybe joke.

Email messages contain good humor
Creativity seems happily rampant
Human nature yearns to go forth
Seems like a time for periodic mirth.

My delightful dog sits by my feet
She knows not of a spreading disease
She’s content to enjoy her owners
Seems like a time for cozy quarters.

We especially miss seeing our family
The essential glue that girds our lives
Just a byproduct of our closed times
Seems like a time for cheer of kinds.

Wonder about longtime impact on our grandchildren
What will they remember, internalize
Hope our strange times make them more resilient
Seems like a time for growth, if not immediate.

Rending to think about the rising death toll
Desperate measures taken by medical professionals
Seeking to stem the tide of coronavirus
Seems like a time to spread praise as a thankful chorus.

Offers of help warm the heart
Grace is a daily component
Gratitude is a constant companion on our daily lessons
Seems like a time to count our blessings.

Ventured out one early morning for senior shopping
To join my wife and sense any panic
Some empty shelves, purposeful people
Seems like a time to nod, to be supple.

Poetry is good for the heart and mind
Painting a picture of life as one sees it
Delving into your soul for comfort and solace
Seems like a time to seek spiritual promise.

To my loyal weekly readers
Attend to combating a pesky virus
Dream about its disappearance and resolution
Seems like a time to imagine an end to isolation.

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.

Silver Lining with the Bay Bridge by Howard Freedlander

April 4, 2020 by Howard Freedlander 3 Comments

Not all is somber in our currently isolated lives. Some good news popped up last week. I had to share my glee.

Gov. Hogan announced last week on April 1 that reconstruction of westbound right lane on the Chesapeake Bay Bridge is 100 percent complete. I read the article in The Star Democrat several times to make sure that our governor was not playing an April Fool’s prank.

I am on record for bemoaning what was supposed to be a two-year project that had wreaked havoc on Eastern Shore motorists crossing the Bay Bridge to conduct personal and professional business on the Western Shore. I have written about my love-hate relationship with a bridge that I crossed for nearly 30 years as a commuter.

As it turns out, our past winter’s moderate weather and the coronavirus combined to expedite the rehabilitation project, not to speak of the governor’s intense interest in the project. Constant complaints from Marylanders caught in awful back-ups surely reached the State House.

The deadly COVID-19 naturally draws few, if any favorable reviews. But, for me, if it played even a minor role in speeding up the annoying but necessary bridge project, I am pleased.

Of course, the silver lining has a few wrinkles. Since Gov. Hogan has righty directed sheltering in place in an attempt to “flatten the curve” of the quickly spreading disease, travel across the Bay Bridge to see family and keep medical appointments has become a non-event. Video communication has replaced up-close contact.

This oft-frustrated Bay Bridge motorist feels thankful to the governor for his prodding and pushing. Jim Ports, executive director of the Maryland Transportation Authority (MdTA), the state agency responsible for Maryland’s bridges, also deserves credit. He was the point person for the governor’s impatience and the public’s ire at the inconvenience.

I look forward to leaving my bunker some day and traveling across the rehabilitated westbound span.

Out and About (Sort of): Who Should Live? By Howard Freedlander

March 31, 2020 by Howard Freedlander 2 Comments

If I were thinking rationally amid the coronavirus crisis, I might not write this column. But onward I forge, with uncomfortable thoughts sometimes my literary companion.

In the flood or shall I say Tsunami of stories about the very real and menacing threat of a massive outbreak of COVID-19, I’ve read and thought about the ethical dilemma of deciding who should, and who shouldn’t receive life-saving treatment. This scary scenario has played out in Italy.

Should younger victims receive care over older ones in light of limited equipment and medical professionals?

Should patients, perhaps many with underlying medical ailments, who are failing to recover, be abandoned to protect doctors and nurses facing infection, again due in part to the nature of the ventilator procedure?

These ethical conundrums are not new. They just are more pronounced now as the cases mushroom in New York City, Washington State and now Maryland. Lack of preparation for an epidemic in terms of protective equipment, respirators and, yes, ethical considerations, are afflicting our currently fragile nation.

The country is operating on wartime footing without a foundation of prior readiness training. Our doctors and nurses, not to speak of government leaders, are coping with a severe emergency.

Ethicists serve a valuable service in normal times, let alone now. As this virus spreads, creating life and death situations on a daily, if not hourly basis, I worry about decisions giving professional caregivers God-like power.

What I do believe is that families must have a voice in the decision-making process, regardless of the urgency of the decision. It cannot be otherwise, though some may disagree. We cannot ration care without soulful thought.

Some might disagree: if we’re fighting a war, then human sacrifice is sadly necessary.

Darwinian decisions—who is best able to survive, whose years to live provide more value to society, who is “better” than someone else based on physical and mental health—give me pause. Emotion and rational thinking collide.

It’s entirely possible, if not probable, that my perspective as a 74-year-old skews my perspective. How couldn’t it?

Lack of preparation has created the conditions for life and death decisions, pitting the young against the old. And, again, if we are sticking to the wartime scenario, fairness and compassion may be casualties.

If this is true, we are doomed to determine the value of life through subjective benchmarks. The young person has far more years to contribute to our community; older folks have lived full lives. They’re no longer playing on the first team. Their usefulness is diminished due to lack of longevity and declining health.

A good friend, when discussing this fraught subject, asked me: how would I choose between him, whom I’ve known for 64 years, and my 40-year-old daughter in deciding who should receive life-saving care, and who shouldn’t, if both required immediate medical intervention amid a shortage of ventilators or maybe even beds?

Readers might say that my daughter would receive top priority. Easy decision, right? Family over friendship is a no-brainer.

But I would be compelled to choose between a friend who was almost family and my daughter, who is an inextricable part of my being.

What bothers me is that doctors and families would face no-win predicaments because we as a country didn’t prepare for the inevitable. Scientists like Tony Fauci and business tycoon and philanthropist Bill Gates have predicted the vast catastrophe now demanding our attention and changing our lifestyle.

If we are in deadly combat with a potentially fatal virus, then it’s reasonable that our nation should aggressively adopt a posture that mandates the rapid production of ventilators, masks and protective equipment.

Deaths are mounting in New York State. COVID-19 is spreading. Social distancing and hand-washing perhaps have slowed the pandemic.

I well understand that a 74-year-old such as this writer has limited time on earth. Under the current circumstances, my life is less valuable than someone half my age. That may be true. It also is shameful that these words must be voiced.

The coronavirus forces an examination of ethical issues that beg for straight-forward answers. There are none.

Nor should there be.

P.S. For interested in this subject should read this timely article from the Washington Post yesterday.

Out and About (Sort of) Recliner 2.0 by Howard Freedlander

March 24, 2020 by Howard Freedlander

Readers may recall my column in early December about acquisition of a recliner after more than 45 years of living without one. I explained my wife’s dislike for this particular piece of furniture, which had graced my bachelor’s apartment until it disappeared after a short time in the early part of our marriage.

Not prone to give up things easily, embedding in them an emotional attachment, I continued to yearn for another recliner. We purchased one on a mid-summer day the past August during Bountiful’s Once in a Blue Moon sale. Except, strangely, we didn’t realize it was a recliner, sitting in it but not bothering to check it for its controls.

Adjustment was difficult for my wife.

After extensive efforts in moving it around our family room until my wife could tolerate its appearance, we now live comfortably with the recliner as part of our daily lifestyle. Frankly, I think my wife’s acceptance is still begrudging.

Now, let’s fast forward until late February 2020. I discovered one day that our beloved Yellow Labrador now enjoys sitting in “my” recliner. She seems nonplussed when I return home and see her ensconced in it. She doesn’t move, or does so reluctantly—or hurriedly when my wife comes home and makes it clear that dogs don’t belong in human chairs, at least not in our house.

As much as I love Sandy and appreciate the calm she brings to our household, I do think she has become far too comfortable. Where we see boundaries, she sees opportunities. Is she spoiled? Heck yes.

As the current restrictions on socializing precipitated by the spread of the Coronavirus become even more stringent, my wife and I are spending more time imprisoned in our own home. As is true throughout our country and parts of the world.

Mind you, we Americans are not living amidst conditions faced by the British during the London Blitz in 1940-41. Still, we face uncertainty and possibly death.

The recliner has become a safe, comfortable refuge for me (despite the shedded hair left by the lovable Sandy). My reclining life has increased as I spend innumerable hours reading newspapers and digital media, trying to keep up with the flood of news about COVID-19. Like many, I receive dozens of emails from a varied list of organizations explaining its reaction to the pandemic; the primary message is “we are shutting down, but don’t lose the faith—life will get better.”

All of us are housebound. We are doing chores that we may have ignored. We are reading books that had gathered dust. And at least some of us are talking on our cell phones to friends and family, much more frequently and longer than had been the case. I think that’s a “silver lining” that optimists like to cite.

The current crisis compels a day-to-day attitude. Future plans are on hold. We live for the moment and appreciate the newly-arrived simplicity and, very possibly, a formerly rare sense of tranquility.

The prior paragraph may imply that I have embraced introversion and aloneness. If so, I have no choice. As a certifiable extrovert, I’ve had to adapt and accept a reality shorn of human contact.

When the calamity ends—the timeline is undetermined—I promise I will return to an extroverted life, with admittedly some pangs over the plusses of solitary confinement.

Before I return to my wonderful recliner, I end by sharing a poem written by a Princeton University alumnus and sent me by a friend and PU alum:

“It is possible, I believe,
To hold heaviness lightly
To be calmly afraid
To cling to shreds of the ordinary
Even in the most abnormal of times

Fear cannot be quarantined
But neither can love,
Kindness too can spread,
Catastrophe can hold in the seeds of compassion
If we choose to let them grow”

Plight of an Extrovert by Howard Freedlander

March 20, 2020 by Howard Freedlander

Isolation imposed by common sense and government directives strikes at the core of this unrepentant extrovert. I am coping uneasily with the lack of social contact.

Coronavirus is forcing all of us to imprison ourselves in solitary confinement. We are being asked/directed to consider the common good, to avoid spreading this invisible, insidious medical pest that is wreaking worldwide havoc.

So, what do the extroverts do under these peculiar circumstances and strictures? We can’t ignore the calls for self-distancing. That would be foolhardy, if not dangerous.

For introverts, our current self-isolation is a godsend, a signal to read or walk or cook or garden or meditate or sleep or complete crossword puzzles. The opportunities abound. Their desire for human interaction is limited.

What do we extroverts do to deal with seclusion and a sudden void of social contact? It’s a real conundrum that draws no pity from introverted spouses and friends.

We are on our own in this unpredictable world. Our choices are sadly few. Our self-esteem, fueled by others, is at stake.

This extrovert has a few strategies. He walks and talks to the dog—not even a bark, however, in response. He calls friends, even one in the United Kingdom; he was more than willing to talk, as we did for 42 minutes. Communication carries a cost. And I do what I’m doing now: claim dominion over my IPhone screen and email friends and family to assuage the loneliness.

Of course, not all of my contacts are extroverts. In fact, probably few are. Still, I prod along in cyberspace and communicate endlessly.

Should this communal sabbatical continue for months, then I may have to adjust my strategies. After all, I only have so many friends and family members. And they have only so much patience for pitifully needy extroverts.

One more thing: I can impose ever so gingerly on the kindness of Dave Wheelan, editor-publisher of the Spies, and seek digital space to offer some humor at a humorless time—or other commentary.

Please comment. I need the contact, even if virtual.

Out and About (Sort of): Burying the Lead? Hmmm. By Howard Freedlander

March 17, 2020 by Howard Freedlander

The tidal wave of emails continues to flood my inbox with announcements of cancellations due to the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic sweeping the world, now targeting the United States and inflicting its first confirmed case in Talbot County the past Sunday.

Stories about friends and relatives cancelling or postponing trips abroad due to the very real threat of the virus continue unabated.

Well-meaning instructions concerning how to avoid becoming affected by COVID-19–whether by “social distancing” or constant hand-washing— flood the same inbox, social and mainstream media.

And, true of natural and man-made disasters in our country, rolls of toilet paper are flying off the shelves. Whether it’s panic caused by a few inches of snow or hurricane conditions or the current COVID-19, Americans seem driven to buy toilet paper. I’ve never understood the physiological connection between uncertain societal mishaps and the desperate need for toilet paper.

An unexplainable human phenomenon, I guess.

And, of course, I cannot ignore the huge, downward turn in a formerly red-hot stock market caused by the uncertain path of coronavirus and shamelessly poor, weak leadership at the wobbly White House. Only belatedly has Trump responded with genuine concern, not superficial bravado.

On the state level, however, Gov. Larry Hogan has exhibited superb, proactive leadership in closing schools, restaurants, bars, gyms and movie theaters and sounding appropriate alarm and concern. Other governors have done the same. Hogan understands the substance and optics of this crisis.

And again this past Sunday, Talbot County Council President Corey Pack, joined by key leaders engaged in emergency preparedness, announced the first virus case and proclaimed a local emergency. While the news was not good, the public deserved to know and undertake even more care in hunkering down and trying to thwart the spread of the coronavirus.

On an economic note, I’m afraid that hourly workers, those without safety nets and savings available during emergencies, are particularly vulnerable to the economic consequences of this pandemic. For their sake, I hope that COVID-19 diminishes and disappears quickly. I’m not optimistic. The economic pain will deepen.

Now, in a classic demonstration of burying the lead, I switch my sights to the Talbot County Council. I can’t help myself. I will explain.

Amid the understandable fear and trepidation in our state about an uninvited medical pest, I am concerned too about educational reform under discussion in the Maryland General Assembly. I’m referring to the Kirwan Report and consequent legislation entitled the “Blueprint for Maryland’s Future.”

Last week, the county council considered two amendments to the yet-unpassed legislation without taking the time to hear from Superintendent Kelly Griffith. As was clear from an interview with her last week in the Talbot Spy about the complicated and expensive reform initiative, she fully understands its ramifications, not only for the state but for the county. She’s the expert, who must be heard.

In fairness to the county council, it rightly is keenly fretful about the funding formula that penalizes the county based on its wealth. Our school system suffers from this formula, based in part on the property value in a county blessed with nearly 600 miles of waterfront. Teachers leave the county for better-paying jobs in other counties that receive greater state funding.

A working session is planned soon with Griffith, but not before two amendments were brought last week to the council, one of which passed.

Talbot County has a mixed reputation in the Maryland legislature. Its wealth is well-known. So is its low property tax rate. So is its tax cap. The question arises, understandably so, in the corridors of power in Annapolis as to why the county is not doing more to enhance its school system based on its wealth.

Talbot County is viewed as a refuge for the rich. Many in Annapolis expect the school system to be better funded locally. That doesn’t seem to be the case, unfortunately. The low property tax rate and the tax cap restrict the county council’s fiscal flexibility.

If the county council feels compelled to offer its support or lack thereof for an educational reform bill speeding its way through the legislature—one with significant long-term impact on educational quality in our 23 counties and the City of Baltimore—it should do so in a deliberate, not piecemeal way.

While I understand that the relationship between the county council and public school system can be fraught as elected officials must balance so many needs, I believe that it must seek the input of a local expert in evaluating educational reform. Superintendent Griffith is that person.

It makes sense to act with information and data. As it is doing in coping with COVID-19.

Out and About (Sort of): Going Back, Finding Lessons by Howard Freedlander

March 10, 2020 by Howard Freedlander

It’s 1797, and a high-placed woman is eager to leave “prison.” She feels restricted, bound by rules imposed on her by men loyal to her husband.

It’s 1824, and a French war hero is visiting America amid an outpouring of bountiful praise and hoopla in celebration of his key role in the War of Independence.

It’s 1782, and a well-known lawyer and law professor is pondering Sir Isaac Newton’s theory of gravity and Rene Descartes’ thoughts about motion. The intellectual period of time was the Age of Enlightenment; reason and science countered religious orthodoxy and monarchical fealty.

Actor Mark Schneider as Marquis de Lafayette

A stroll through 18th and 19th century America elicits basic truths that still apply to 21st century life, a journey that never fails to captivate my sense of history about a country struggling to find its place as an experiment in democracy.

My classroom was Colonial Williamsburg, a yearly immersion for my wife and me. Our experience refreshes our faith in the wisdom of our gifted nation-builders.

We wonder if American history is still relevant in our fast-moving world driven by social media and non-stop news. Do we stop to consider the context of modern events and global machinations? While change has been cataclysmic since Williamsburg was a hub 244 years ago of revolutionary fervor, lessons learned are bountiful.

Colonial Williamsburg, like other historical museums, is experiencing financial troubles generated by lower visitorship. It’s a shame. I suspect that young families might prefer the excitement of nearby Busch Gardens.

The latter offers fun. Colonial Williamsburg offers lessons in citizenship. The difference is stark.

Our country’s very first First Lady, Martha Washington, is portrayed by Katherine Pittman, an actor-interpreter in Colonial Williamsburg’s nation-builder unit. In an inaugural one-woman performance, Mrs. Washington rails about the stifling restrictions of the President’s residence in Philadelphia and the unfavorable press while collecting her thoughts for a letter she is writing to the incoming First Lady, Abigail Adams, Martha characterizes her life akin to living in a prison.

Mrs. Adams had written to her soon-to-be predecessor and warm friend seeking to know the “rules” of a position that was eight-years-old. In the letter, which resides in the National Archives, Mrs. Washington cited this rule among others: “That the practice with me, has been always to receive the first visits, and then to return them.—These have been repeated (when received) after a considerable length from the seat of government.—“

Actor Mark Schneider as Marquis de Lafayette

As is customary for Colonial Williamsburg’s splendid actor-interpreters, they perform “in character” for 20-30 minutes, accept questions relevant to the date and presentation (i.e. 1797) and then go “out of character” to answer questions When asked about criticism of the press, Ms. Pittman said that Mrs. Washington disliked Thomas Jefferson, who secretly (supposedly) published a newspaper critical of President Washington. This paper was delivered to the President’s residence; Washington continued to receive it for fear of causing a fuss by refusing it.

I suspect that many first ladies have experienced the same sort of isolation felt by Martha Washington. They are expected to support their husbands and, in many cases, confine their opinions to themselves or the President—or express only those approved by the President’s staff.

On a triumphal tour of the country’s 24 states in 1824-25 nearly 50 years after the birth of an independent nation, Marquis de Lafayette conducted a tour of the Art Museums of Colonial Williamsburg. He pointed to portraits of men whom he knew, such as George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and James Monroe.

A name-dropper of the first order, Lafayette, as portrayed by Mark Schneider, was charming, dapper and effusive about a country that he helped emerge from the oppressive rule of British King George III. His service to the Colonies symbolized the value of an ally during war.

The incredible attention and adulation imposed on Lafayette also enabled the United States to show off its growth and prosperity during the nearly first 50 years of its existence. It would not be the first or last time that the United States and an ally organized public actions that resonated positively and politically in each of the countries. The public display often masks serious foreign affairs policies.

In 1782, George Wythe (portrayed by Robert Weathers) was one of the most prominent and respected legal scholars in Virginia. He had taught and mentored Thomas Jefferson at the College of William and Mary. He rightly considered himself a first-rate intellectual who dabbled in philosophical thought. His subjects often led to dense explanations by Mr. Wythe.

Also a nation-builder, Wythe helped lay a legal foundation for a new country. Weathers, a long-time actor-interpreter, assumed the Wythe role the past September, considering himself fortunate to be chosen for someone he considers one of the most influential men in Colonial Williamsburg. Driven by intellectual as well as ethical arguments, Wythe eventually disavowed slavery and manumitted most of his slaves.

Colonial Williamsburg has a gravitational pull on my wife and me. We sop up the history fed to visitors in a venue that promotes the pursuit of knowledge. This history springs alive in the performances of the talented actor-interpreters.

Out and About (Sort of): Blessed are the Peacemakers by Howard Freedlander

March 3, 2020 by Howard Freedlander

Who are they? Do they even exist?

“Peacemakers” connote different interpretations. There are those who fight our wars; those who forsake and deter war; those who epitomize calm and common sense; those who are natural mediators, either in their careers, communities and families.

My instinct would be to bemoan the mess in our country created by a corrupt, dishonest and unfit president. Our country has a crying need for a responsible, decent and moral leader. We urgently need to re-establish “peace and tranquility “among the warring factions in our body politic.

I won’t go where so many pundits have ventured. Repetition just makes the pain greater in living in such a wonderful, vibrant country governed by a terrible human being.

I will use my words instead to beckon the vision of a national leader, though flawed, who could bring peace, as defined by civility, deliberateness and compassion, to our roiling land.

Who is that person? Does he or she even exist?

When I sit around a non-profit board table, I observe people incredibly gifted in bringing people together without imposing excessive ego and self-importance on the group. I marvel at the restraint and respect conveyed by these leaders.

As often discussed, the political world is anathema to so many talented and energetic people who are loath to expose their families and themselves to intense scrutiny that borders sometimes on voyeurism. It’s just not worth the heartache, they say.

Allow me to offer an invaluable ingredient: ability to listen. It’s a rare skill.

I wonder if in this vast country of ours we have a politician who truly listens to viewpoints that may not align with his or hers, whose ego is not satisfied solely on being right, but doing right. I’m suggesting a large dose of humility and humor. I’m suggesting a willingness to be selfless, not self-absorbed.

I suspect at this point that readers wonder if I’ve lost my sense of reality and awareness. Some might think I am searching for a human model that simply doesn’t exist. Some might suggest that I remove my veil of self-delusion.

Cast aside my idealism. Focus on the doable. Get real, man. I hear you.

Okay, I would settle for a leader who views truth as an ally, who views opposing points of view as productive, who views decency and integrity as foremost priorities, and who views unity as a worthy goal.

This column is not intended as a political diatribe. It really is a call for help in changing the climate of distrust and cynicism. It’s more than a trumpet call. It’s a scream for rational discourse and common purpose.

We have a crisis in a country typically marked by fealty to individualism. Once in awhile, we coalesce, as we did briefly after the horrendous attack on our homeland on Sept. 11, 2011. We as individuals can act and talk as if each of us matters. We can channel our anger into strong, but not disparaging dialogue.

We can do better.

Blessed are the peacemakers and prophets of calm and consideration who can grasp the levers of leadership in our nation and move it toward a sense of cohesion and cooperation.

Blessed are the peacemakers and purveyors of common sense who understand the value of seeking and cultivating the common ground.

Blessed are the peacemakers who don’t need hearing aids to hear, but an inward motivation to listen and learn.

Does he or she exist? I hope so.

Out and About (Sort of): “Our Town” by Howard Freedlander

February 25, 2020 by Howard Freedlander

Death is final. Memories are not. They become stories that bind families and communities.

You can still envision and feel the essence of the person who walked this earth and impressed an emotional footprint upon the lives of those honored to know him or her. Fond memories may fade, but not vanish.

A somber lead to this weekly column? Maybe. But one that captures, I hope, the impact of the deaths within recent weeks of John Ford and Mary Mason. They were important to the Easton community, each in a vastly different, but meaningful way.

Stricken by a stroke in mid-November 2019, succumbing three months later, Ford was a steady political presence as president of the Easton Town Council. He worked for 29 years at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. He also served on non-profit boards.

At a celebration of life ceremony that filled most of the Easton High School auditorium the past Saturday morning, common themes of integrity, deliberateness, compassion and selfless service to the community in which Ford was raised rang forth among the 11 speakers.

Another attribute was front and center: Ford’s ability to listen and learn. He perfected this trait. Many of us are so eager to talk about ourselves, we pay scant attention to others. John Ford consciously and conscientiously listened before feeling the need to respond.

One of the speakers said that he initially was angry at God for taking away Ford at his “prime.” Then, he reconsidered his pique at God and felt thankful for having the chance to know and like Ford and live with fond memories.

Who of us has not railed at God for what appears to be impetuous, hurtful decisions to remove from our midst truly good and giving people? When we look around and assess those who cross our paths—some who do little to improve our fragile world–we resent the haphazard manner in which God seems to yank special people from Planet Earth.

Praise and admiration for a man who loved his family and friends and added value to his community filled the auditorium. Smiles accompanied tears.

Last Thursday at Christ Church, Easton, the Mason family paid homage to their recently deceased mother, Mary, and their father, Frank, who died in 2009. Son Frank delivered a moving and often humorous portrait of their parents. Remembrances of lives lived well outweighed the inherent sadness of this funeral service.

Mason’s, a terrific restaurant once ensconced at 22 South Harrison Street, was Mary’s creation. At its prime, it had a thriving lunch business featuring unforgettable sandwiches. Its dinners were reliably tasty. The service was excellent.

Mary also operated a successful catering business. She and her son Matt (Frank handled the “books”) ran a wonderful business; in many ways, Mason’s was a community meeting place, comfortable and hospitable.

Frank’s eulogy painted a picture of a determined mother who moved to Easton, her husband’s family home, destined to establish a restaurant, and so she did. She painted the building yellow despite a subsequent uproar. She persisted in a business that demands constant attention.

When I looked around Christ Church, I saw a diverse crowd filled with people who had worked for Mary and Matt. They remained loyal to Mary Mason and her family.

Stories abound about the always friendly and gregarious Frank Mason. He loved to engage people in conversation on a variety of subjects. I learned the other day that Frank gave my daughter a free piece of chocolate as she walked home from elementary school. Mason’s had a chocolate counter without parallel in Easton. Kate was fortunate to be the recipient of Frank Mason’s generosity.

I recall doing some yard work in front of our home on Harrison Street when Frank pulled up to curb to engage me in military matters. His father served in the New York National Guard. Frank was knowledgeable and inquisitive.

What I took away from two disparate funeral events was the intoxicating nature of life in “Our Town,” the title of an award-winning play about a fictional town in New Hampshire that grapples with life, longing and grief. Our town of Easton offers friendship, warmth, activities and generosity. Its people are the linchpin.

John Ford exemplified a person driven to serve his constituents, whether they were his fellow employees at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum or residents of Easton. Mary and Frank Mason literally served their customers and friends, while providing people with an inviting place to gather and eat.

I’m not angry, God. I’m disappointed; your “plan” sometimes seems unfair and arbitrary. We all have to live with that jarring reality.

Out and About (Sort of): Education Dominates Session by Howard Freedlander

February 18, 2020 by Howard Freedlander

If you keep your ear to the rumblings of the 2020 Maryland General Assembly, you will hear one subject above all others: education reform

After you learn that a 100-page bill proposed last week calls for funding of pre-kindergarten programs, higher pay and career opportunities for teachers and enhanced technical training, you then focus on the cost of $4 billion a year over the next decade. The state would pay $2.8 billion, while the counties simultaneously would pay $1.2 billion.

As you dig deeper, you discover that the predominantly Democratic legislature opposes a tax hike for Marylanders. Instead, the legislators plan to explore other funding sources, such as sports betting and tax on internet sales.

You can imagine that skepticism abounds in the halls of the General Assembly. How will local school systems be held accountable for the useful expenditure of large amounts of new money? Will poorly performing schools throughout the state suddenly improve with an infusion of money?

Counties are concerned about paying their share of the cost of the Kirwan Commission recommendations. The hand wringing already has begun.

In 2002, the Thornton Commission proposed major changes to the delivery of education with a price tag, if I recall correctly, of $3 billion. And, believe it or not, the commission identified no funding source.

The Thornton results are questionable. Less than 40 percent of the state’s high school graduates currently can read at the 10th-grade level or pass an Algebra 1 exam.

Though my skepticism is obvious, I view the quality of public school education an essential factor in the socioeconomic success of Maryland. If we lack an educated and capable workforce, we then court disaster in drawing and retaining small-and-big business employers in our state.

The main product in Maryland is human capital. While our agricultural sector is strong and thriving, tourism continues to prosper, our health care providers are among the best in the world, information technology companies produce innovative services and the Port of Baltimore is booming, what we grow best in the Old Line State are people.

Maryland taxpayers must support an education system that thrives not merely on test scores and college enrollment, but also on the types of citizens we are growing and nurturing. I’m suggesting that public schools do what they do best: develop young minds, as well as encourage character development that yields better citizens.

We are fortunate in this country to have superb independent schools that provide an alternative to public schools for parents who can afford a private-school education. Independent schools often flourish when public schools fail to meet high academic and disciplinary standards.

Though the U.S. Constitution does not stipulate provision of a public school education, it implicitly calls for an informed citizenry, without which democracy fails or flounders.

Fiscally sound implementation of the “Blueprint for Maryland’s Future” is key to the vibrancy of a state that cannot depend on a natural resource such as oil, or a strong manufacturing base that once existed primarily in the Baltimore area. We do have world-class hospitals. We do have exceptional colleges and universities.

I’m not ignoring the plentiful but pollution-challenged Chesapeake Bay, a source of food and recreation.

And we do have people anxious to receive a top-flight K-12 public education funded by both the state, counties and the City of Baltimore. The projected cost of $4 billion is eye-popping. Accountability measures become ever more necessary and enforceable.

I’ve witnessed General Assembly sessions mired in resolving difficult financial issues linked to economic turbulence. I’ve seen sessions bogged down by social conflicts like abortion and gay marriage. These subjects often dominate public discourse. Passion and stridency often characterize the conversation.

The current 90-day session offers its 188 legislators an opportunity to focus on a non-partisan topic—albeit one with an alarmingly high price tag—that can determine, if not influence the future of a buoyant state.

Educational reform demands serious debate. It demands a sustainable funding source.

It demands a bipartisan approach, if possible.

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