Out and About (Sort of): Hope is a Good Remedy by Howard Freedlander

I ended my Election Day column last week by saying that I opted for hope and optimism. Though the result was one I abhorred, I still choose hope over despair and optimism over gloom.

It seems that in every conversation that I’ve had since Nov. 8, 2016, that “hope” seems to be the constant fallback position. I believe that this sentiment applies to those who disdained President-elect Trump, and those who supported him, “hoping” for change.

“Hope” takes on a different tint depending on your viewpoint. Nonetheless, it’s a common reaction to that which pleases and displeases us.

While listening Sunday to a sermon by the Rev. Dr. William J. Ortt, rector, at Christ Church, Easton, urging reconciliation and kinder words on the part of all Americans, regardless of their political affiliation, I thought about the meaning of his message. Some may consider Bill Ortt’s words wishy-washy and representative of unrealistic thinking. I thought they were just right in summoning a healing process in a country riven so starkly, frighteningly so, in an ugly election.

Taking a different tack than I normally do, I will devote most of this column to quoting five stanzas in an Ode to Hope written by John Keats, a British poet, confessing that poetry can be more poignant and useful than what this writer can reckon:

“When by my solitary hearth I sit,
And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom:
When fair dreams before my “mine’s eye” flit,
And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;
Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,
And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head.

Whene’er I wander, at the fall of night,
Where woven boughs shut out the moon’s bright ray,
Should sad Despondency my musings fright,
And frown, to drive fair Cheerfulness away,
Peep with the moon-beams through the leafy roof,
And keep that fiend Despondence far aloof.

In the long vista of the years to roll,
Let me not see our country’s honour fade:
O let me see our land retain her soul,
Her pride, her freedom; and not freedom’s shade.
From thy bright eyes unusual brightness shed—
Beneath thy pinions canopy head!

Let me not see the patriot’s high bequest,
Great Liberty! how great in plain attire!
With the base purple of a court oppress’d,
Bowing her head, and ready to expire:
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings
That fill the skies with silver glitterings!

And as, in sparkling majesty, a star
Gilds the bright summit of some gloomy cloud:
Brightening the half veil’d face of heaven afar:
So, when dark thoughts my boding spirit shroud,
Sweet Hope, celestial influence round me shed,
Waving thy silver pinions o’er my head.”

Hope is a wonderful resource, a safe house where you can go and seek comfort from disappointment. I prefer a readier and more convenient to place to which I can escape, instead of Canada, to hide from a Trump-led country.

President-elect Trump deserves a chance to perform on the biggest, most watched stage in the world. He won the election. He warrants some leeway before being criticized.
Our country is strong and resilient. I hope that Donald Trump captures and embellishes our nation’s innate goodness and grace.

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.