COVID-19 has shaken my thoughts about free speech, a basic tenet of American democracy. I am no less a fierce proponent. How could I feel less committed as a former journalist and weekly contributor to the Spy outlets?

When I think, however, about the inability for family members to be with dying family members during the pandemic, to express their love and solace, I think that free speech has suffered health-mandated censorship. I understand the reasoning. I disdain the results.

Grieving is a necessary part of life. “Last words” are intrinsic to the finality of death. The living treasure those end-of-life conversations, even if one-sided. Words matter when time is short, when death hovers ever so near, as the loved one’s breathing becomes increasingly more labored.

When I think about George Floyd’s last words, “I can’t breathe,” hideously ignored by the Minneapolis police officer kneeling on his neck, I realize that Derek Chauvin stomped upon Floyd’s free speech and life. Chauvin’s personal and professional animus fatally blocked his ability to listen to a person grasping for help.

Free speech is open to misinterpretation. Words don’t matter if you disagree and fail to listen. If your humanity is repressed, as seemed to be the case with Officer Chauvin, a person’s free speech is meaningless. In this case, so is life.

Protests, both peaceful and violent, represent free speech. Peaceful demonstrations, abetted by signs and voices of advocacy, may block streets and annoy folks inconvenienced by closed roads. They are tolerated as civil acts of disagreement.

On the other hand, violent protests that involve property damage and personal injury to bystanders and store owners are illegal. In this instance, free speech bucks up against standards of acceptable behavior. Police reaction is necessary in a way that hopefully doesn’t cause escalation and possible death.

When violence accompanies free speech, then all of us must divine the causes. Are protesters justifiably angry? If so, why? Do they distrust the police? If so, why? Do all of us take the time to understand the roots of unlawful civil disobedience?

Over the years, I’ve heard derisive criticism of “political correctness,” as defined by words and actions that bespeak supposedly overreaching concern about free speech. If a person wants to utter a sexist or racist remark or joke, critics wonder rhetorically, “so what?”

Here’s where my opinions may seem contradictory. While I applaud free speech, even when it’s hurtful and spiteful, I believe the impact is crucial. Does free speech allow me to use inflammatory words that create a hostile environment? Damn it, the words and feelings are mine and I’m entitled to express them, right?

No.

Free speech calls for “moderation.” Because I can say something hurtful, doesn’t mean I should. Thoughtful use of words underpins freedom of speech.

Speech-driven interaction demands caring about, and compassion for the other person. Otherwise, derogatory and degrading discourse poisons dialogue and impedes decent relationships. Barriers rise; friendship suffers.

Social media these days offer a large dosage of distasteful words and opinions. Free speech becomes deliberate distortion and nefarious manipulation.

We all know that Russia’s shrewd, deceptive use of Facebook during the 2016 presidential election to sow distrust of American political figures exemplified our free speech gone awry. We are open and receptive to differing opinions; foreign countries consider this a weakness to be exploited.

An essay on free speech is fraught. Many may disagree with my thoughts concerning moderation. I hope those who do will use their free speech to respond.

Civilly and enthusiastically.

In four days, on Saturday, June 6, 2020, our country and the world will celebrate the 76th anniversary of D-Day, an amphibious invasion of the Normandy, France beaches by American, British and Canadian forces that loosened, if not broke Adolph Hitler’s iron grip on Europe. Combat losses were heavy, particularly on Omaha Beach where the 29th Infantry Division, comprising a large number of Marylanders, fought and succeeded against overwhelming odds.

In some ways, commemoration of D-Day is my Memorial Day. 

In 1994, on the 50th anniversary, I served as the escort officer for Gov. William Donald Schaefer, himself a World War II veteran stationed as a hospital administrator in England. I got to know and respect 29th Division veterans. They were tough, hardy men who never bragged about their combat exploits.

As the invasion was happening, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt addressed the nation with a prayer. He understood the need to offer comfort and encouragement. He sought help from a higher power for a mission that dwarfed all others in military history.

“Almighty God: Our sons, pride of our nation, this day have set upon a mighty endeavor, a struggle to preserve our Republic, our religion, and our civilization, and to set free a suffering humanity,” Roosevelt prayed.

He continued,” Lead them straight and true; give them strength to their arms, stoutness in their hearts, steadfastness in their faith.”

No president wants to send men and women into combat and possible death. This calculation may be the worst part of the job. It brings only sorrow despite the outcome.

Your heart is burdened with immense responsibility for deciding that the cause of freedom calls for wrenching decisions.

“They (soldiers) will be sore tried, by night and by day, without rest—until the victory is won. The darkness will be rent by noise and flame. Men’s souls will be shaken with the violences of war.

“For these men are lately drawn from the ways of peace. They fight not for the lust of conquest. They fight to end conquest. They fight to liberate. They fight to let justice arise, and tolerance and goodwill among all Thy people. They yearn but for the end of battle, for their return to the haven of home,” Roosevelt said.

These words bespeak overriding concern for the troops engaged in deadly combat, empathy for the families whose sons were fighting on foreign beaches topped by bluffs advantageous to the enemy and a sense of unity shared with citizens who despised the evil represented by Hitler and his ruinous vision.

Roosevelt unabashedly prayed for the Lord’s intervention in a critical wartime mission. He didn’t claim any outright entitlement to God’s attention and blessing, understanding that might seem presumptuous. 

However, guided by faith and sincerity, he hoped for an extra measure of divine support.

The prayer ends: “With Thy blessing, we shall prevail over the unholy forces of our enemy. Help us conquer the apostles of greed and racial arrogances. Lead us to the saving of our country, and with our sister nations into a world unity that will spell a sure peace—a peace invulnerable to the schemings of unworthy men. And a peace that will let all men live in freedom, reaping the just rewards of their honest toil.”

Roosevelt became an ardent cheerleader at the end of the prayer. He was making his case to an overburdened God, who too must have felt repulsed by the ungodly acts prosecuted by Hitler and his cadre of human wreckers.

Having overseen the restoration of the American economy after a lengthy Depression, Roosevelt had two major objectives in what turned out to be an abbreviated fourth term: win the war against a dangerous despot and establish a path to world peace.

So, in four days I will remember President Roosevelt’s prayer and passion as I pause to pay homage to the soldiers on the Normandy beaches.

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.

 

If I were a 2020 graduation speaker, I would feel compelled not only to offer congratulations and encouragement to dream and bravely face life’s ups and downs, but also to apologize.

Mixed in my apology would be a sincere urging to do better than your parents if they were, as I guess, baby-boomers born between 1946 and 1964. At the same time, I would welcome you aboard to a shaky, unpredictable world that awaits your youthful enthusiasm and bountiful idealism. 

My idea to use this weekly platform to apologize is not original. I’m following in the splendid footsteps of Dan Rodricks, a longtime columnist for the Baltimore Sun whose column the past Friday, May 22, 2020 prompted me to ponder the message that I would convey to this year’s college graduates.

Before I recite my sorrows, I express regret that this year’s graduates will not experience the normal ritual of a ceremonial graduation. Coronavirus and the social-distancing it spawned were the culprits in nationwide cancellations. 

Though graduation often seems perfunctory—something to do for long-suffering parents who in many cases sacrificed financially to pay for four years of higher education—it is a traditional rite of passage that marks a significant achievement.

Commencement by zoom, no matter how creatively it is produced, cannot replace the joy of celebrating a milestone with your friends and family. It just doesn’t measure up.

I’m sorry that you are entering an environment dominated currently by a pesky and potentially fatal infection. Your country should have been better prepared. A health crisis that has not afflicted this nation since the Spanish flu in 1918 occurred despite warnings over the years from scientists.

Maybe you will do better when leadership falls on your shoulders, to avoid the inconvenient urgency of a horrific crisis. 

Maybe you will say to yourselves and your elders: never again. Preparation is paramount. Naysayers who avoid reality must be ignored.

While on the subject of crisis readiness, I’m sorry that our national leaders have minimized the catastrophic effects of climate change and global warming. I’m sorry that our leaders pay little attention to scientists who have used peer-reviewed data to justify overriding concern about the destructive consequences of coastal erosion and the warming and melting of Arctic ice.

Maybe you will step up and say enough is enough. Maybe you will speak up and rail about shameful negligence. 

Maybe you will vote for people who understand the gravity of global warming. Maybe you will participate in the political and advocacy process.

I’m sorry that strident divisiveness and partisanship define our dialogue these days. We have a serious civility deficit. We avoid those with whom we disagree, often condemning them for harboring opinions different than ours.

Political differences have always marked our vibrant democracy. Civil disagreement underscores the specialness of our young country. But now we form tribal alliances with those with whom we agree and shun those who travel a different philosophical path. 

This behavior is injurious to our collective health.

Maybe you will take a different tack and embrace your friends, whatever their thoughts and opinions. Maybe you will become a slave to reason and common sense, not emotion and irrational anger. 

Maybe you will be more accepting of different points of view. I hope so.

I apologize that you will find a nation not only riven by political disagreement, but also by inequality. The gulf between the haves and the have-nots has grown worrisomely wide during the past 20-30 years. Many earn exorbitant salaries, while many can barely get by on their wages. Yet both extremes work hard.

Inequality perhaps is unavoidable as long we Americans have different talents and ambitions. 

Maybe you will pay heed to the complicated circumstances that cause a canyon-like separation between economic tiers, such as education, housing, family expectations and self-regard. Yes, these conditions cannot change overnight with a hope and prayer. They are too intractable.

Maybe you will choose a career in a non-profit that addresses inequality. Maybe you will be careful not to dismiss those who live impoverished lives and face huge challenges. 

Maybe you will be compassionate. Maybe you will be humble.

I’m sorry that my imaginary commencement remarks may seem gloomy. I opted for stark reality, though I am naturally an optimist.

I hope and pray you will do better, far better than my generation in addressing societal ills. I’ve apologized to my daughters.

We tried in terms of racial and gender discrimination. We tried in supporting science. We tried in reforming education. We tried to be more accessible emotionally to our children. We tried to hold our political leaders accountable.

Godspeed on your journey. Ask for help. Build strong families. Develop lasting friendships. Strengthen your community.

Calm the waters, if you can.

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.

 

The death early last week of Eric Lowery at 71 was a jolt to his family and legion of friends. During his 22 years on the Eastern Shore, he impressed so many with his strong sense of community service and his low-key but effective style of communicating.

As he readily admitted, Lowery still carried the Vietnam War with him. It was an emotional burden, commonly referred to as Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD). It afflicted many returning veterans. 

Unfortunately, unlike the military’s current attitude about the urgent need for psychological help for combat veterans, PTSD was barely understood more than 50 years ago when Lowery returned as a young man to a country that treated Vietnam veterans with undeserved disrespect.

He earned a Bronze Star as an Army soldier during his service in 1968-69. 

A relationship with Eric Lowery revealed a humble, friendly and genuine person. These characteristics, combined with a driving desire to build a better community based on racial tolerance, led him to become president of the Frederick Douglass Honor Society and a guiding force in creating and funding a statue honoring this great American icon on the grounds of the Talbot County Courthouse.

 A native Baltimorean who worked 33 years for the City of Baltimore, he moved to Talbot County in 1998, settling in Unionville, where his wife Harriette’s family was one of the original 18 African-American families to lease lots on land donated by the Cowgill family for use by returning Civil War veterans who fought with the Union Army.

He later worked at Chesapeake College, primarily in technology support and instruction.

The quiet, rural pace of life on the Eastern Shore seemed to suit Lowery. His circle of friends crossed ethnic and racial lines. He sought change through collaboration, not confrontation. He saw enough war in Southeast Asia.

Eric and Harriette Lowery were a potent and charismatic couple. While Harriette is an outgoing, enthusiastic person, her husband charted his life’s journey in a more understated but equally welcoming way. Their relationship was rock-solid, fueled by abundant love and admiration.

In early 2020, the community lost John Ford, well-respected president of the Easton Town Council and longtime and valued employee at the Chesapeake Bay Maritime Museum. Both Ford and Lowery drew people to them through their innate decency and listening skills.

Both Ford and Lowery sought to improve life in our wonderful community through outreach to a diverse group of people. Each rarely trafficked in self-congratulation. Each valued humility.

It’s difficult, if not impossible to replace quality people like Ford and Lowery. We can be forever thankful they traveled our way.

Eric Lowery, with his loving wife by his side, navigated life burdened by memories of war fought by young men and women whose wounds were often invisible. His accomplishments during 22 years in Talbot County hopefully enabled him to push the demons aside.

Of course, life moves on. Eric Lowery made mine and others better.

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.

 

If local news were already on life support, barely breathing, the current coronavirus pandemic has created even worsening health. The prognosis is dire. 

So is democracy.

Last week, I listened to a webinar organized by The Aspen Institute concerning the impact of COVID-19, learning again about the worrisome state of local news in our country. One panelist, Steve Waldman, president and co-founder of Report for America, a national service program that places “emerging journalists” in local newsrooms, said that a crisis had turned into a “catastrophe” due to thousands of layoffs and furloughs generated by the lockdown and its well-documented economic consequences.

The result is “news deserts” characterized by an inadequate, if non-existent coverage of local government and consequently an alarming lack of accountability demanded nationwide of our elected officials.

Civic engagement, typically fueled by information and contrasting opinions in once thriving letters-to- the-editor columns, becomes threatened, if not frighteningly muted.

More than 2,000 newspapers have closed their doors during the past 15 years. Newsroom employment has dropped nearly 50 percent. According to Waldman, the number has declined from 458,000 to 180,000 reporters.

Supported almost entirely over the years by advertising, the print media has lost tons of revenue to social media, which hardly qualify as reliable sources of news. Nonetheless, advertising dollars no longer buttress newspapers as they once did.

A local news outlet, The Star Democrat, too has fallen victim to advertising revenues migrating elsewhere, exacerbated by the pandemic’s effect on store closures. Just two weeks ago, Jim Normandin, president and publisher of APG Media of Chesapeake, announced that the paper would no longer be printed on Tuesdays. Instead, it would be published online.

More than a year ago, The Star Democrat ceased its Monday edition due to the increased cost of newsprint produced in Canada. Trump Administration tariffs were the culprit.

My guess is that The Star Democrat, a critically important part of the informational and cultural infrastructure not just of Talbot County, but the Mid-Shore area, will either become a totally online media outlet, or revert to its former status as a weekly newspaper. Founded in 1799, The Star Democrat became a daily newspaper in August 1974.

In The Aspen Institute webinar, the controversial subject of government funding—not a bailout—of local news media surfaced for discussion. As a former journalist who strongly believes in the fierce independence of print and electronic media, I initially recoiled from this idea.

A panelist stated that her online publication, Chalkbeat, already receives federal grants. In fact, it just received money from the Payroll Protection Program, part of the stimulus package passed by Congress. 

Waldman proposed that the federal government consider spending $500 million on public-service health ads through local media. He reasons that the government already spends about $1 billion on public-service ads related to military recruitment and census participation. 

Though I would like to be wrong, I don’t think the political will exists for the federal government to support the media industry. I agree, however, that placement of public-service ads is a far cry from a bailout and the insidious ramifications of meddling by the government in the news business.

The nurturing and stimulation of civic engagement by a vibrant media, particularly on the local level, is absolutely necessary to democracy. Elected officials must be held accountable for their stewardship of taxpayer money.

If citizens live in a news desert without information about the decisions made by their councilpersons—or how the decisions were made—then a heavy cloud overhangs the community. It knows little and asks less.

Local news vehicles, whether newspapers or radio and TV stations, are akin to a local utility that provides infrastructure for electricity, gas, water and sewer and, in some cases, cable television. The news flow sustains the health of a local community. 

Life in a news void would be unbearable.

And, yes, the media must be pesky and skeptical to be effective. It’s the price of freedom.

Josh Stearn, of the Democracy Fund, wrote: “Local news, done right, helps build community by reflecting the voices, concerns and stories of local people back to each other in ways that build connection and empathy. Traditionally, local news organizations have also served as a key part of the public square where communities debate the issues and ideas facing them.”

The pandemic has affected numerous socioeconomic sectors in serious, disabling ways. The financial and emotional cost has been great. At the same time, our democracy has weakened through the diminution of local news. 

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. 

In the beginning of isolation, maybe six weeks ago, the standard conversation focused on coping with government-imposed restrictions. It went something like this for folks of a certain advanced age:

“How are you doing? How are you coping? What are you doing to keep busy?”

“Well, I’m doing chores, reading more and walking more. I’m watching movies on Netflix and Amazon. I’m trying to avoid going crazy. I’m a little bored.”

“How are your children and your grandchildren?”

“Okay, I guess. I can only see them by Zoom or Facetime. I miss them. I think my children are not enjoying home-schooling the kids. There are periodic meltdowns (maybe too for the parents).”

Time moves on. Restrictions grow stiffer. Masks are required now when shopping, going out in public. The pandemic is real. It’s scary.

Conversations change, as conditions change. 

“How are you doing (that question never changes)? Have you seen the recent statistics on the number of cases and deaths? Have you heard the recent announcement from Governor Hogan?”

“I’m doing all right. I’ve established a routine. I’m not as bored as I thought I would be.”

“What’s your routine? How do you keep busy (translated: avoid going stir crazy?)”

“Hmmm…I don’t know. I’m doing some projects like cleaning out my office, doing some woodwork, walking the dog (or without), reading, doing crossword puzzles and streaming movies. It’s not too bad.”

“Have any relatives or friends gotten sick from coronavirus?”

Are they doing okay?”

“Yes, they’ve had to struggle. They ‘ve been quarantined for several weeks.”

“How much longer do you think this will last? Have you heard anything about a new vaccine?’

“Who knows? Times are crazy, uncertain. I’ve stopped watching the news, because it’s just so darn depressing.”

Routines have set in. People are adjusting. They worry about family members and friends who have lost jobs. They worry about the increasing unemployment numbers. They worry about the “new normal,” lifestyle changes that may become permanent. They are getting restless. They wonder if our times are similar to the Great Depression in the 1930s.

Conversations move on as the COVID-19 crisis deepens, and the number of deaths nationwide exceed 68,000. Cases in Maryland are approaching 27,000 and deaths 1,200. Hospitalizations are rising. Nursing-home cases and deaths are increasing.

“How are you doing? Still keeping busy? Everybody well in your family?”

“Yeah, we’re doing well. The days don’t seem as long as they used to. I still have projects. I’m talking daily with friends and family. I’m trying to keep up with the news, but it’s still depressing (routine word). When do you think that things will get back to normal, at least for small businesses?”

“Wow, I wish I knew. I wish there were a vaccine. I wish the testing were greater in scope. I wish I could hug my kids and grandchildren. I wonder about the safety of those who work in hospitals, nursing homes and grocery stores.”

“Yeah, I agree. This is such a totally different experience for all of us. I still don’t know what I would do were restaurants were to open. I don’t know if I would rush back (though my wife would like to do less cooking). Will the unequal conditions in our country only worsen due to coronavirus?”

“At least we have Zoom, Facetime and other platforms to use to communicate. But I surely miss the personal contact.”

“Did I tell you that I had a telemedicine appointment with my cardiologist?”

“How was that?”

“It was okay, I guess. We just talked. He’s a great communicator. It’s just tough to have your blood pressure taken virtually. He said it seems that people are not going to the hospital as much, as if they might believe that their medical problems are insignificant relative to the coronavirus.”

“That’s interesting. My God, we live in crazy times.”

For me, a certifiable extrovert, phone conversations are good for my sanity. Even introverts benefit from socially distanced contact. It’s good for the soul. 

In uncertain times threatened by a persistent and deadly infection and an economy suffering from widespread lockdown, we all need to share our anxieties and fears.

By my calculations, we are now completing our sixth week in COVID-19-caused isolation. Statisticians may find my math a bit short. Our year 2020 will go down in the history books as one that found our nation and world brought to a screeching halt.

It will be a year marked by fear, sickness, death, kindness, generosity, grace, empathy—and adaptation.

Our routines continue. We persevere. 

Masks don’t hide our humanity.

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 Gov. Larry Hogan speaks at his daily news conferences announcing new initiatives to fight the coronavirus, Marylanders listen carefully and then abide for the most part by restrictions or future plans outlined by this highly credible leader.

From the outset of the crippling pandemic, Hogan has spoken plainly and clearly to his fellow citizens. Early on, he developed an immediate trust. He engages in no fluff, no misstatements, no drama and no hyperbole.

Hogan has been the right person at the right time. As he conveys concern and compassion, he is unafraid to demand inconvenience and frustration for the sake of “flattening the curve” and limiting cases and deaths.

At the same time, as head of the National Governors Association, he has employed the same direct, straightforward approach in dealing with President Trump, not hesitating to refute bold-faced lies and claims based on delusion, not facts.

When I attend frequent conference calls or zoom meetings, inevitably one or more people will point to a statement uttered by Gov. Hogan, as if it were the Holy Grail. Their days include studiously listening to the governor’s news conferences.

I understand from friends that Gov. Andrew Cuomo of New York is equally respected and admired for his grasp of facts, willingness to listen to scientific experts and care for, and about his constituents.

Governors like Hogan and Cuomo deserve tremendous credit for understanding early on the potentially destructive impact of COVID-19 and rallying their citizens around a common mission: do everything possible in social distancing, wear of masks and shelter in place to stop the spread, if possible, of the novel coronavirus.

Hogan and Cuomo have stressed the need to coalesce around the common good. Selfishness is secondary.

When I served in the Maryland National Guard and the State Treasurer’s Office, I observed good and bad leaders. The best could communicate honestly, clearly and consistently. Their integrity was unquestioned. While they certainly had their flaws, they could lead by being believed. They sought respect, not popularity, though the latter often accompanied the former.

Unfortunately for our country, our president is a feckless leader, unable to tell the truth and unwilling to understand information provided by scientists and medical doctors. He thrives on childlike attention, prompted by outrageous statements unrelated to truth or reality. 

Unlike Hogan and Cuomo, Trump is the wrong man at the wrong time for marshalling our nation in dealing sensibly with a calamity.

Though my distaste for the policies and behavior exhibited by a president ill-suited for a crisis—except those he creates—are oft-stated in this column, I believe that the disjointed effort by Trump to communicate credibly about a grave emergency places in stark relief the failure of Donald Trump to engender trust and faith.

I am disheartened for Americans, who seek reasoned direction during a crisis worse than anything they’ve ever experienced.

Governors and medical professionals have stepped into the breach to provide some semblance of stability when COVID-19 has turned the world upside down. They warrant our gratitude. Even our prayers.

The past six weeks have been difficult. The future is uncertain. Sickness and death dominate the headlines. Millions and millions of people have lost their jobs. Families are struggling to stay afloat economically and emotionally. Children are studying away from friends, even restricted from playing with neighborhood pals. 

Simply, lives have been disrupted, requiring adaptation and resilience.

We all pray for resumption of the lives we knew and treasured. We also realize that our normality may be very different.

Nurses, doctors and first-responders are our heroes, risking their own safety for the sake of others. Saying they are only doing their jobs, they have displayed unrelenting courage.

Gov. Larry Hogan is my hero for exhibiting constant leadership and credibility during a complex emergency.

(And kudos to the governor and his wife Yumi for acquiring 500,000 coronavirus tests from South Korea, Mrs. Hogan’s native country).

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.

 

 

 

 

 

After attending a touching, heart-rending memorial 10 days ago via today’s ubiquitous Covid-19-free Zoom for Kathleen Kennedy Townsend’s 40-year-old daughter, Maeve McKean, and eight-year-old grandson, Gideon McKean, I joined many others in bemoaning the multiple tragedies that have befallen this accomplished American family.

Death is part of every family. It’s unavoidable. But, I wonder if a familial strain of recklessness dooms the Kennedy clan to avoidable hardships. It dogs this family in ways unfamiliar to most of us.

On Thursday, April 2, Maeve and her son got in a canoe on a windy day to chase a ball in the angry Chesapeake Bay. The canoe capsized. Maeve and her son vanished, found days later.

Was it pure hubris that motivated a mother and son to venture into unpredictable water to retrieve a ball? Was it the Kennedy ethic to live life to its fullest, caution be damned? Am I being unduly harsh?

When John Kennedy Jr. died in July 1999 in a plane accident, along with his wife and sister-in-law, in conditions that would have discouraged pilots more experienced than the son of a former U.S. president, I wondered then what drove this family, so committed to selfless public service, to self-destructive actions.

Kathleen Kennedy Townsend (KKKT) lost a brother in a skiing accident and another one to a drug overdose. Factor in the loss of her father, former Attorney General Robert F. Kennedy to assassination, as well as her uncle, President John F. Kennedy, and you can rightly say that this former lieutenant governor of Maryland has endured unimaginable tragedy. 

It’s easy to question and criticize the choices made by God to take people—particularly ones who have so much to offer our dissonant world—in the youth or prime of their lives. To be fair, however, we humans may tempt our own fates through irresponsible behavior.

I know KKT (the typical acronym used for her) and like and admire her very much. She’s a wonderful person who has followed the family tradition of viewing public service as a noble undertaking. Though no longer in the public arena, she is an adjunct professor at the Georgetown Public Policy Institute, a visiting fellow at the Kennedy School of Government at Harvard and senior Nitze fellow at St. Mary’s College of Maryland.

My youngest daughter worked on KKT’s unsuccessful campaign for governor in 2002. Several years ago, I served on a state task force chaired by Kathleen studying how to provide retirement security for all Marylanders.

The Kennedy name and image were magical to my generation. Many of us reveled in the optimism and idealism typified by President Kennedy and his brother. The assassinations of JFK and Bobby Kennedy in 1963 and 1968, respectively, ruptured our innocence. 

Add the murder of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., also in 1968, and the divisiveness of the Vietnam War, and the world seemed grimmer and grubbier. Violence was our American signature.

Why did I spend two hours, along with 3,000 others, engaged in a somber loving tribute to a woman the same age as my youngest daughter and portrayed as a bright light devoted to global human rights, and an exuberant, athletic boy who was a year younger than my grandson? 

Why was it so important to me during this already melancholy time in history?

Like many, I feel emotionally tied to a family blessed with the financial security and commitment to public service to make our world better and more humane. Recklessness, which I view as a disturbing nemesis, has cut short the lives of too many Kennedy clan members. 

The family may view caution as an impediment to living life fully and fearlessly. The consequences may be deadly.

Kathleen Kennedy Townsend is a strong, intelligent and vibrant person. She will endure this terrible tragedy with grace and dignity as I observed during the memorial service on Zoom. 

The Kennedys will move on, grieving another wrenching void. I’m praying for God’s solace and comfort.

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.

 

Bad:

Mounting cases and deaths
No vaccine yet
Limited testing
Self-isolation
Economic distress-loss of jobs
Boredom, loneliness
Inability to be at the bedside of a dying family member, or  a hospitalized relative or friend
Dogs getting tired of frequent walks (indications are few)
Wearing a hot mask (but necessary)
Reading and listening to mostly bad news
Flawed, chaotic and inept leadership at the White House
Lack of preparation for the pandemic
Overworked health care professionals
Neglectful, dismissive behavior by some
Greedy purchases at the grocery story, hoarding
Lack of sports on TV
Repetition of household chores
No hugs of grandchildren
Continually growing weeds
Uncertainty about the future
Cancellation of academic graduations
Cancellation of sports programs for high school and college athletes
Parents who never wanted to be teachers
Empty towns
Acts of violence against Asians
Potential impact on educational achievement in the US
Firing of Capt. Brett Crozier for publicizing the plight of his sailors as nearly 150 tested positive coronaviruses (and one has died)
Disparity in disease spread 
Closure of houses of worship
Probable permanent closure of small businesses
Continual fear and dread of being afflicted

Good:

Self-isolation as a deterrent
Living without deadlines, except for those teleworking
Working at home
Keeping in closer touch with friends and family by phone, email, Facebook and Zoom
Cheaper gas
Spread of kindness in helping neighbors
Streaming TV shows and movies
Walking more
Quietude for contemplation and creativity
Reading and forwarding COVID-19 humor
Doing long-delayed chores
Reducing the size of reading pile
Ensuring domestic harmony (very important)
Leadership by Gov. Hogan and other governors—superb
Incredible, sometimes hazardous care by healthcare professionals
More sleep
Curbside meals
Food deliveries
Sharing of food and cheerfulness(from afar) by neighbors
Imagining a world without fear caused by the pandemic
Imagining a return to normal, whatever that might be
Connectivity—a way of sharing, particularly by phone
A sense of community, of pulling together
Dr. Tony Fauci, a hero
Churches and synagogues offering services by zoom
Blooming flowers
Living in a rural area
Constant adaptation (who knew its necessity?)
Domestic abuse not increasing, according to Sheriff Gamble
Understanding that government can and must play a constructive relationship in a crisis
Developing inner strength to deal with the societal impact of a deadly virus
Dogs—company and exercise
Emojis
Faith and hope in the future
Food banks
Signs applauding healthcare professionals and first responders
The daily courage of grocery store workers and postal carriers

Readers may feel free to add to these two lists. We each have our own version of the bad and the good.

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.