Nonpartisan Education-based News for Talbot County Community
Dawn breaks over the Magothy River, the promise of another spectacular day.
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My memory is increasingly suspect these days, but this really happened. At least, I think it did…
It was the summer of 1966, the months between my senior year of high school and my freshman year of college. I was heading north, part of a group of young volunteers organized by what was known at the time as The Grenfell Mission (it’s now called the Quebec-Labrador Foundation) that provided community-based support for conservation and the cultural heritage of the coasts of northern Quebec and Labrador. There were about a dozen of us who would spend the next several weeks working and living in various isolated fishing villages along the St. Lawrence River in northern Quebec. To get there, we flew commercially to Montreal, then boarded a small DC-7 that took us on to Quebec City at which point, we embarked on a packet steamer that over the course of the next three days dropped us off, one-by-one, in our assigned villages. I was the last boy to disembark. My new home would be with the Nadeau family who lived out on the quay near the village of St. Paul’s River, the last stop before the Labrador border; Newfoundland lay just off the coast.
The Nadeau family had eleven children, the eldest only a couple of years younger than I. (I would turn 18 at the end of that summer.) My “job” was to work with the young children in the village, teaching them how to swim, an essential life skill since all the boys would grow up to be fishermen, and all the girls would grow up to marry fishermen. I suppose there were other skills to impart, but in reality, I was basically a camp counselor, a tall and gangly pied-piper to the village kids who had been released from the town’s one-room schoolhouse for the few short weeks of a northern summer. Of course, what I didn’t realize at the time was that I was the one who was doing all the learning—about a different culture, a different way of life, an entirely different world. It was, to say the least, my first experience in becoming a small part of a world that was so much larger than anything I had ever known or even imagined.
Bob Bryan, the chaplain at the high school I had attended, ran the program. He was an Anglican priest and his summer parish was the Quebec-Labrador coast. To tend to his flock, he flew his own sea plane up and down the coast, baptizing babies, marrying couples, burying the dead. He was a revered figure in those parts and I wanted to be just like him someday.
On this particular day, I was with the village kids in town when we heard Bob’s plane overhead. He circled the village a couple of times, then waggled his wings, a sure sign he had something for us. I remember looking up and seeing his grinning face looking out from the pilot’s little window, just before he dropped a package that tumbled down to us. The kids rushed to open the package. Inside were two pair of boxing gloves.
Bob’s plane continued to circle above us. Immediately, the kids formed a ring and the boxing gloves were distributed. I got the first pair and an enormous teenage boy got the other pair. What happened next was…well, I don’t really remember what happened next, but it must have been the shortest match in the history of boxing. I was like one of those cartoon characters who wakes up to see little birdies swirling around his head. I think I remember seeing Bob, leaning out the window of the plane waving and laughing before he flew away.
There is no real point to this story; it’s just a memory, but, like other good memories, it recalls another time, another place, and another me. As my brother-in-law David liked to say, “It’s all good.”
I’ll be right back.
Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives on both sides of the Chesapeake Bay. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine. His most recent novel, “The Tales of Bismuth; Dispatches from Palestine, 1945-1948” explores the origins of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is available on Amazon and in local bookstores.
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I heartily endorse Councilman Don Abbatiello for President of the Easton Town Council. Doubtless, his decades in voluntary emergency service and as a high school educator have already well prepared him for his years of even-handed judgement on the Town Council. These alone qualify his election as President. He is a man whose heart and deeds we have witnessed.
Among the chief issues facing our community is housing: We need greater “affordable”housing. This is an important factor in the education of our children in that a large percentage of our teachers simply cannot afford to live here – they commute from other counties. These, let alone our dedicated middle class citizens, make the Town run in our businesses and services.
Our current council president has commended “attainable” housing – that is, homes in the $250k to $350k market. I know few teachers at the outset of their vocations – especially those beginning in rural communities such as ours, and whose intellect and skills we so greatly need – who can afford “attainable” housing. Rather, they can afford what they can reasonably find –“affordable” housing.
Here’s where Don Abbatiello’s mind meets the matter, having served in planning and legislating for this very matter of “affordable” housing. And that said, his even-handed mind and manner have an un-matched character to meet the needs of our Council’s presidency, which is a conciliar, “first among equals” role, rather than a dominant “chief executive.”
I ask everyone to consider and to vote for Don Abbatiello as President of the Easton Town Council. He is a man we know and trust.
With every best wish, I remain,
Bishop Joel Marcus Johnson
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Last evening I attended the candidates’ forum at the Avalon, moderated by Craig Fuller and sponsored by the Talbot Spy.
It was well attended, and I’m glad that it will be available for viewing by those who missed the live event, because the upcoming May 6 election should be – and is – important to every single resident of Easton. It will impact town spending, how development takes place, and whether we can work together to plan and achieve shared goals.
While I don’t doubt all the candidates are devoted to their families, kind to their neighbors, happy to live in Easton, and aware of the issues, we should alI expect a great deal more from public servants.
Only one candidate, Moonyene Jackson-Amis – running to represent Ward 4 on the Council – was truly impressive to me. This highly educated woman – a practicing attorney, compassionate activist, and experienced local public servant – spoke in specifics, rather than generalities. It was clear that she understands the needs of the residents of Ward 4 and the town at large.
She talked about practical ways to help wage-earners qualify for licensing in their various trades by incentivizing contractors to take advantage of their skills, thereby facilitating their advancement. She called for a study on repurposing the current hospital as a regional medical center for military veterans. She advocated for updates to a program she initiated during her prior term on the Council so that residents can afford to stay in their homes. She suggested a new tourist attraction that would make use of an unused existing building. And she had other practical ideas as well. It’s clear she has a well-thought-out action plan ready to go if she’s elected.
What’s more, Moonyene obviously knows how to leverage all the elements needed to bring plans to fruition. That is the essential asset drawn from her knowledge of the law and wealth of experience; an asset that others appear to lack. She wants to serve constituents, not herself.
I believe our Town Council will be a stronger, more effective body if Moonyene is elected. I hope everyone in Ward 4 already has a plan to be at our fire station on May 6 to vote for Ms. Jackson-Amis.
Wendy Roth
Easton
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I scratched my head when I heard Donald Trump was attending the funeral of His Holiness, Pope Francis. Donald Trump is not a Catholic and doesn’t regularly go to church. He cozies up to Evangelical Christians and sells Bibles. Most of us credit greed as his motivations. In essence, he is the antithesis of everything the Pope represented—a Pope who supported climate change initiatives, condemned mistreatment of immigrants, and believed that criminals could be rehabilitated. His washing of their feet was a sign of his commitment to service and the virtue of humility.
Was our President the only person in St. Peter’s this week labelled a rapist by a judge? And was there anyone credited with more lies than Trump—The Washington Post counted 30,573 false or misleading statements made during Trump’s first term as president. He likely will break that record this time around.
When it was confirmed Trump would be flying to Rome, I was disappointed. He could have sent J.D. Vance, a converted Catholic, but Vance angered the Church by having his photograph taken with his son in the Sistine Chapel, where photography is forbidden.
When Trump entered St. Peter’s, he was easy to spot. The Vatican informed persons invited to attend the funeral mass to wear black. Trump ignored the request. Was this because he knew Swiss Guards would not remove him for the etiquette violation? Or because Trump, who has made a practice of violating court orders and insulting the judges who issued them, enjoys breaking rules.
I don’t know what prompted Trump’s behavior in Rome, but I was glad to see him board Air Force One for his flight to Trump National Golf Club in Bedminster, New Jersey. Yes, the President left the funeral mass as soon as it ended to get to the golf club in time to fit in 18 holes the next day.
Many words could be used to describe Trump’s behavior. Some that Trump uses himself in describing others, but I won’t repeat them here. I will only call the behavior disturbing. I worry that I see a president no longer in control of himself, a man subject to outbursts of anger, unable to distinguish truth and falsehoods, obsessed with vengeance and retribution against his perceived enemies, and devoid of any hint of empathy for anyone.
Every morning, in addition to reading a few newspapers, scanning the news on my iPad, and watching a few minutes of television news, I visit the President’s social media site and the White House press room. The social media site, I have found, is the best place to track what the President is doing and thinking. The White House online press room is where the full text of Executive Orders is posted. Want to learn why the President has banned paper straws? The answer is in the press room.
Trump’s social media posts are particularly disturbing. On Monday morning, I found a forceful attack on the press. The President wrote:
“We don’t have a Free and Fair Press in this Country anymore. We have a Press that writes BAD STORIES, and CHEATS, BIG, ON POLLS. IT IS COMPROMISED AND CORRUPT. SAD!”
Recent polls suggesting the public is souring on Trump prompted the outburst. The President has the lowest approval ratings for any president during their first 100 days in office in seven decades. Trump was also shown to have lost the public’s approval for his leadership on the economy. Credit the tariffs.
Be sure to visit the President’s social media site if you want to see more. There are more than enough unhinged posts to keep a small army of psychiatrists busy for decades. You will also find at least six photos and videos of the President travelling to Rome and two of him in St. Peter’s.
I do not want a man who wears a blue suit at the Pope’s funeral in the White House. Trump may have offended Catholics this weekend, but his actions and words are destroying America. I’ve had enough.
J.E. Dean writes on politics, government but, too frequently, on President Trump. A former counsel on Capitol Hill and public affairs consultant, Dean also writes for Dean’s Issues & Insights on Substack.
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We see from afar. If we’re lucky, maybe we catch a brief glance, a quick peek, a first impression of something truly wondrous or beautiful, and sometimes that’s all we get. But what if we took the time to really focus our attention and inspect the details, to absorb all that there is to see in something as common as a flower? Would it change anything? Would we see the wider world more clearly, or would we just get lost in reverie like Ferdinand the Bull who would rather sit under his favorite cork tree, smelling the flowers and watching the butterflies, than fight in the great Plaza de Toros in Madrid?
A few years ago, my friend Smokey gifted us with some Bearded Iris bulbs for our garden. Late April is their moment to shine. They’re not in flower for long, but when they do bloom, they are magnificent. Their subtle hues, their hint of fragrance, their graceful sway can create some of my favorite springtime moments. But I’ve always admired them from a distance. So, yesterday I decided to take out my camera to get a closer look. That’s when I began to see them differently. For a moment, I got lost in their hidden inner beauty: their sturdy stalks, the feminine fragility of their pistils, all the delicate pastel shades hidden within the folds of their petals, even the dew drops they wore like jewels in the cool morning sunlight. Everything I beheld led me deeper into the mystery that is the natural world. How, I wondered, in the midst of all this political chaos and human pain, does Mother Nature manage to pull it off so gracefully?
As I’m sure you know by now, Pope Francis died last week. I am not Catholic so I have no particular institutional affection or bias for neither the pontiff nor the Vatican. But when I looked closely at Francis and his life, I saw the personification of many of the qualities I hold most dear in a person: simplicity, humility, empathy, a lightness of being that radiated both joy and affection for everyone around him, especially the weakest among us. He was that lovely flower growing in the garden who caught my attention and made me want to look more closely, and when I held him up to that kind of scrutiny and close inspection, I was all the more impressed with what I saw—a human authenticity that transcended all the power and pomp of his ecclesiastical office. I’m sure Francis had his flaws—don’t we all?—but whatever flaws there were in the man paled in comparison to the way he tended his garden. May he rest in peace.
But back to those bearded irises in our own little garden. It might have been sufficient to enjoy them from afar, but when I took a moment to look closer at their intricate beauty, I caught a glimpse of all I had been missing. I would tell you what that was, but William Wordsworth says it much more elegantly than I ever could:
What though the radiance
Which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendor in the grass,
Of glory in the flower,
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
I’ll be right back.
Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives on both sides of the Chesapeake Bay. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine. His most recent novel, “The Tales of Bismuth; Dispatches from Palestine, 1945-1948” explores the origins of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is available on Amazon and in local bookstores.
The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.
For almost a century, between the late 1890s and 1986, coal miners relied on canary birds rather than fellow miners to detect increasing levels of colorless, odorless carbon monoxide and other toxic gases in the mines that could sicken or even kill humans.
While mechanical sensors have long since replaced canaries in mines, the term “canaries in the coal mine” is still a metaphor for an early warning system to alert people of impending negative, even catastrophic outcomes, if they do not make necessary and timely changes.
Recent news reports on three “canaries in the coal mine” scenarios that merit serious consideration by Governor Moore and the leadership of the General Assembly.
The first are reports published in Maryland Matters that recent decisions on the state budget made by a majority in the General Assembly and by Governor Moore have not gone unnoticed by three major public finance credit rating agencies — Fitch, Moody’s, and S&P Global Ratings.
In the world of government finance, the ratings from these firms are of paramount importance.
They determine the interest rates on bonds issued by states to fund budgets in addition to revenue received from taxes and related revenue sources. The higher the states bond rating, the lower the interest rate on bond repayments.
While these bond agencies reaffirmed the currently in place highest credit rating for Maryland (AAA), two did so with concerns.
Moody’s downgraded the state’s fiscal outlook from stable to “negative,” citing looming structural deficits driven by state funding for the Blueprint for Maryland’s Future also known as the Kirwan Plan.
In their report, Moody’s wrote, “The negative outlook incorporates difficulties Maryland will face to achieve balanced financial operations in coming years without sacrificing service delivery goals or adding to the weight of the state government’s burden on individual and corporate taxpayers.”
This is the first time since 2011 that Moody’s has issued a negative outlook for Maryland.
Their report notes, “The outlook revision was driven by expected structural imbalances and planned depletion of General Fund surplus and budgetary reserves by about 60% from fiscal 2023 through fiscal 2025, which threatens to undermine performance relative to peers.”
In their report, S&P Global Ratings, expressed concerns about deficits and costly programs. Those concerns led them to grade Maryland nearly in the middle of their its rating system — a grade that would typically equate to a credit rating just below AAA. But the agency gave the state the benefit of the doubt citing its history of fiscal management.
The second “canary in the coal mine” are reports from the General Assembly’s nonpartisan legislative budget analysts. They are projecting that by next year, the state’s projected structural budget deficit — the gap between projected expenses and expected revenues – will grow to $1 billion. In fiscal 2027, the last year of Moore’s term, it grows to $1.3 billion. A year later, it more than doubles to $3 billion.
The third “canary in the coal mine” are recurring reports from Delaware about businesses moving or planning to move their business incorporation domicile from Delaware.
The latest to do so is Affirm Holdings Inc., a publicly held American technology firm that handles financial services for merchants and shoppers. Affirm is one of at least twenty major companies citing a hostile Delaware business environment as the reason for their decisions.
Affirm joins Facebook parent company Meta, Walmart, Tripadvisor, The Trade Desk, and Roblox.
In the face of all this news, one has to question the impact of a recent compromise reached by the leadership of the Maryland General Assembly and Governor Moore on a final state budget and state tax package.
That compromise did not include a proposed reduction in the corporate net income tax, but did include a new 3.5 % sales tax on information technology service providers.
A spokesperson for Governor Moore has said the governor is still optimistic going forward, saying the governor “remains confident” in the state’s fiscal position following the news on the three credit ratings. He also said the governor will work with lawmakers on “long-term structural solutions” that balance revenues with priorities.
State Senate Budget and Taxation Chair Guy Guzzone is also optimistic. He was quoted in a Maryland Matters article, “I know we can figure it out and we will figure it out. Whatever the circumstances, whatever the economy gives us, in a broad sense, we’ll use our tools and we’ll be thoughtful, and we’ll come up with, I believe, good solutions.”
Time will tell if the current news from Delaware projected deficits and credit rating concerns will be included in future dialogue and deliberations on state spending and state revenues which in turn will help ensure fully informed decisions will be made on future state budget decisions in Annapolis.
We are likely to know very soon.
The final approved state budget bill requires a special legislative session later this year to address unexpected impacts in Maryland on more reductions in federal government spending.
If and when that occurs, I suggest Marylanders deserve thoughtful consideration of the current canaries in the coal mine as well as unexpected others yet to be made known.
David Reel is a public affairs and public relations consultant in Easton.
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The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.
A Great Blue Heron stalks its prey in the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge.
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It was 1995, there were parts of my job as a Health Educator that I loved, but the work environment was toxic, and I wasn’t fond of my boss. One day, while browsing at Barnes & Noble, a book practically jumped out at me: The Artist’s Way. I bought it on the spot and started journaling every day using the stream-of-consciousness method it teaches. That simple practice changed my life.
Journaling through The Artist’s Way helped me reconnect with my inner voice, the part of me that had been buried under stress, self-doubt, and a job that no longer aligned with who I was becoming. As I wrote each morning, I started to gain clarity about what I truly wanted. I realized I didn’t have to stay stuck. Bit by bit, I began to release the fear of change and started visualizing the kind of work environment, creativity, and purpose I wanted in my life. That daily practice became a form of manifestation. In time, I found myself stepping into a new career that felt aligned, joyful, and like a true reflection of me. It wasn’t just a creative awakening, it was the beginning of a completely new chapter.
One evening after my weekly adult ballet class, the teacher invited me to join her for a glass of wine at Legal Spirits Restaurant. As we sipped and chatted, Connie, the owner of Classworks Dance Studio, asked if I would be interested in teaching Ballet to very young dancers. Surprised and flattered by the offer, I responded with a resounding, “Yes, I’d love to teach!” That conversation, and that glass of wine – marked the beginning of a new path for me.
As my contract as a Health Educator was coming to an end and with the position as a ballet teacher, I decided not to renew my contract, embracing this new opportunity. During my time as a Health Educator, I had written grants focused on preschool-aged children and discovered how much I enjoyed working with that age group. In addition to teaching ballet, I applied for and was hired as a lead teacher at a local preschool.
Teaching small children is one of the most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had. Their curiosity, energy, and joy are contagious, turning even the simplest moments into opportunities for wonder and discovery. Watching their eyes light up when they learn something new or accomplish a task for the first time is incredibly fulfilling. The bonds formed through daily routines, laughter, and shared silliness create a great sense of purpose. Guiding them as they grow, not just academically, but socially and emotionally—reminds me every day of the impact a caring, patient presence can have on a small child.
Journaling continues to bring clarity to my life in a way few other practices do. Putting my thoughts on paper helps me slow down and make sense of the negativity that pops up in my mind. Whether I’m working through a challenge, capturing a meaningful moment, or simply noting what I’m grateful for, writing creates space for reflection and insight. Over time, my journal has become a trusted companion, offering perspective, grounding me in the present, and gently guiding me forward. It’s a daily reminder that even in chaos, there is always clarity to be found through the act of writing.
My journal keeps track of it all; illnesses, births, deaths, vacations, and everything in between. It’s basically the unofficial family archive, part medical record, part travel log, part soap opera. One page might detail a case of the flu that took us all down like dominoes, and the next, a sunny day at the beach complete with sand in every crevice. Birthdays, baby announcements, photos, restaurant receipts, and Broadway Playbills are squeezed in as bookmarks. It’s not the pressed flowers or tiny beautiful watercolor paintings of Edwardian Ladies type of journal, but it’s honest, and flipping through it is like reading a wildly unpredictable, slightly dramatic, but very heartfelt family saga.
Writing has always been a catharsis for me, a way to release emotions I can’t quite say out loud. When the world feels heavy or my thoughts are tangled, putting pen to paper creates space to breathe. The act of writing helps me sort through the murky bits, name the feelings, and leave a little part of the weight behind with each word. It doesn’t always bring answers, but it always brings relief. Whether it’s a quick vent, a heartfelt letter never sent, or a quiet journal entry, writing helps me heal, process, and move forward with a little more clarity and peace.
In the midst of these difficult times, I find comfort in journaling and I gently recommend the same to anyone searching for calm
Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling.
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