I must admit that June 6 is an unforgettable day for me. I have expended thousands of words over the years about the historic D-Day invasion of the Normandy, France beaches on June 6, 1944. Today is the 79th anniversary of the greatest amphibious assault in military history.

Surprise was the deciding factor in the successful Allied effort to claim a strategically important beachhead.

Henry Turner, a 19-year-old Easton native, was part of the first wave of that unexpected invasion, landing on Omaha Beach in the village of Vierville. He and his fellow soldiers faced withering fire from German forces—despite the astonishing Allied action— situated on the bluffs overlooking the beach. Members of the famed 29th Infantry Division, comprising a large number of troops belonging to the Maryland and Virginia National Guard, endured mind-numbing combat.

They determined to overcome their German counterparts. And they succeeded.

After the war, Turner became an attorney, serving three terms as the Talbot County State’s Attorney, before becoming chair of the Maryland Parole Commission.

In 1994, I encountered Turner at a Washington Street store. I asked if he planned to join 29th Division veterans traveling to Normandy to celebrate the 50th anniversary of D-Day. I was going to France as Gov. William Donald Schaefer’s escort officer. Turner responded curtly, “No. I will not even watch “The Longest Day,” the acclaimed film about the assault.

End of conversation.

Turner had witnessed unbelievable human damage and death at a young age. He did not want to relive relentless fighting in France.

I respected his reticence. I understood his angst.

Turner, who died in 2015 at age 91, was courageous and outspoken. I recall attending a Memorial Day event at the Easton VFW. He was the main speaker. He eschewed flowery comments about Memorial Day, the same heard every year. Instead, he spoke about equal opportunity in the Armed Forces. He was not a politician trying to please the audience.

Over my 30-plus years in the Maryland National Guard, I met and liked many D-Day veterans. Most have died. Bill Boykin, a Baltimore resident, was one of them. He was an artillery officer attached to the 2nd Battalion, 115th Infantry, 29th Division. The unit was massacred by Germans retreating from Omaha Beach and finding the American soldiers resting in a field surrounded by hedgerows, after a long day’s march.

During the June 1994 visit to 29th Division battle sites, including the one attacked by German soldiers, Boykin questioned the description of the nocturnal assault. He adamantly refuted the perception of trips too tired to set up perimeter defense.

Historians disagreed.

The Boykin story reflects pride and conviction on the part of an officer opposed to a commonly told story. Even 50 years later, he defended the unit and its commander caught unexpectedly in the line of deadly fire.

Memories haunt combat veterans. Though time may alter their accuracy, they never vanish.

Men like Turner and Boykin contributed to the demolition of Adolph Hitler’s Fortress Europa. They fought bravely and relentlessly. They preserved freedom against a madman determined to establish hegemony in Europe.

As we celebrate the Allies’ magnificent victory on D-Day today, I urge readers to pay homage to 29th Infantry Division soldiers who confronted an onslaught of firepower on a formerly serene French beach. They persevered.

They endured the loss of friends and comrades. They suffered the loss of innocence.

Very few are still alive.

They spent three years away from their families and communities. They came home and rebuilt America. They talked sparingly about their wartime experiences.

Peace is elusive. War is horrible, but sadly necessary. Thank goodness for people like Henry Turner and Bill Boykin.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

A week in a big, old and quirky house in Rehoboth Beach, Del. overlooking the Atlantic Ocean brought great joy and personal refreshment to my wife and me two weeks ago. We were comfortable and content.

And, yes, we were just blocks away from President Biden’s beach home. That matters little to us. But readers may wonder.

During our stay, we found it fascinating to watch a major beach replenishment, necessitated by winter storms that eroded the seashore. I learned that the project, encompassing the shoreline from Rehoboth Beach to Fenwick Beach, Del., costs $23.8million in state and federal money.

The Rehoboth Beach portion entails the pumping of 300,000 cubic years of sand from the ocean bottom. We easily could see the pumping ships offshore and beach equipment to spread and smooth the sand.

When I served as deputy treasurer of Maryland, I learned about the millions and millions of dollars spent over the years on beach replenishment in Ocean City, Md. The obvious question is why. Erosion is unavoidable. Winter storms are unpredictably damaging.

The answer is simple: tourism.

If ocean-goers are to continue investing their vacation time and money, they expect pristine, wide beaches.  The inherent uselessness of expensive beach nourishment is irrelevant. Ocean City is an essential economic development resource in Maryland; tax dollars are plentiful.

Beach replenishment every four years in Ocean City costs nearly $10 million, according to a Google search. The initiative began in 1988, funded by the federal government, the state, Ocean City and Worcester County.

As I watch the waves roll in, slamming Rehoboth Beach and prompting memories of family affinity in a 1929-vintage beach home owned now by descendants of a Wilmington, Del. lumber yard-owning family, I ruminate about the inexorable passage of time. I think back about hours and hours sitting on the beach, enabling our two daughters to experience the wonders of the ocean and the tranquillity of the beach.

We impressed upon them the need for caution. Implicitly, we instilled family togetherness.

These memories are precious. They also are painful. You must accept aging. We remember our younger years with great detail, and some yearning.

When not talking about our children and grandchildren, our next dinner meal, the erratic quality of Grotto pizza, the bothersome traffic on Route 1 (Ocean Highway), increased visibility of body art, the delectable Thrasher’s fries and welcome changes to a rental house we feel we own—my wife and her sister and brother would switch inevitably to remembrances of my deceased in-laws.

The conversation is heartfelt, sometimes humorous. “I didn’t know that” is a frequent comment.

As would be expected, each sibling interacted differently with a parent. Funny stories mix with serious ones. My in-laws celebrated 40th and 50th anniversaries in the house by the sea. Stories about my in-laws’ friends abound during our conversation.

While enjoying our respite, we remained aware of current events. Debt ceiling negotiations, the death of professional football star Jim Brown, the Preakness and the high cost of cars hovered above us in the turbulent world of journalism.

Despite the cool weather, we felt replenished. We always are eager to arrive and reluctant to leave our vacation cocoon.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

Middletown, Del. is a mess, dominated by strip shopping centers, housing developments, medical facilities—and monstrous warehouses and distribution centers owned, for example, by Amazon. Once rich farmland is covered by impervious structures.

Progress? We consumers benefit from next-day delivery. We are happy. We care little about the impact of these highly visible buildings on the environment. We want what we buy online as soon as possible.

Kent County, Md., a lovely agricultural jurisdiction, may be the next victim of this peculiar form of commercial growth. Height and setback restrictions might suffer from the rush to feed the beast and deface the environment.

As a 44-year resident of Easton and Talbot County, I often marveled at Kent County ‘s uncanny ability to oppose successfully big box stores and huge wind turbines. Its fruitful stubbornness characterized this rural county, the least populated in Maryland. It refused to scar its beauty despite financial temptation.

Criticism of its anti-development isolation has seemed irrelevant to its outspoken residents.

Pressure will build quickly for county leaders and planners to approve huge distribution centers and warehouses. Accusations of blatant parochialism will abound. Loss of potential tax income and employment will mark the proponents’ arguments during public hearings.

Last summer, my wife and I visited the scenic Poconos in Pennsylvania. The rural ambience was infectious. Tree cover, pristine streams  and clean air characterized the landscape. Then, we saw extremely large structures that served one purpose: logistical aids in the form of distribution centers and warehouses. Trucks and traffic would follow, as would a preponderance of impervious surfaces.

The future seemed settled in the popular Poconos.

Depressed areas, such as Hazelton, Pa., once dependent on coal, might benefit from increased employment opportunities. The implied bargain between progress and economic development and environmental sustainability would likely and regrettably tilt toward financial gain.

In adjacent Lehigh Valley, recent years have seen the construction of 29 million square feet and addition of 30,000 jobs. Discontent over the loss of farmland, impact on lakes and rivers and general appearance of huge warehouses for local manufacturers and monstrous distribution centers has proved powerless.

Its proximity to New York City and the growth of e-commerce have enhanced economic development in the Lehigh Valley cities of Bethlehem, Allentown and Easton. A pro-business culture contributes to the growth of warehouses and distribution centers.

My concern is simple: where is the balance between economic development and farmland preservation?

Where is the breaking point? I trust that question is foremost in the minds of Kent County decision-makers.

I support the opponents of the monstrous structures that will destroy the agricultural beauty of Kent County with its rich, fertile land. Discussion must be vibrant. Industry representatives must understand—perhaps counterintuitively—the inherent damage that surely will occur and try to minimize it with structures that fit the scale of a lovely county that has escaped so far woeful urbanization.

Kent County residents are well aware of the uncontrolled growth so prevalent in Middleton, Del.  Its ugliness is inescapable. It is a role model for chaotic development and a distressing quality of life.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

The death Thursday of Jim Brown, whose running talent and statistics were incomparable for years after his retirement from the National Football League’s Cleveland Browns, prompts a flashback.

The sport was lacrosse. He was playing in an all-star game at Johns Hopkins’ Homewood Field. At age 12, I had watched innumerable college games. Never before or since have I watched a better athlete. He was unstoppable.

Brown scored five goals. He ran around and through opponents. Stick checks just bounced off his powerful arms. He faced the best that college lacrosse could produce. Yet, he stood out.

I followed his pro football career. He was an offensive force that few teams could match. His speed and power became redundant on NFL highlight films.

One last comment: I thought he was a compelling movie actor, particularly in the heralded World War II film, “The Dirty Dozen.” Though not a drama school-trained actor, he impressed me with his cinematic ability. Critics might disagree.

Jim Brown lived to 87. He led a life filled with athletic excellence and acting credentials. His civil rights activism was notable.

I will never forget his exploits on a legendary lacrosse field in Baltimore.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

In June 2018, when Temple B’Nai Israel in Easton was dedicated, Maryland’s senior U.S. Senator, Ben Cardin, spoke. He told a funny story that might be applicable to Jewish houses of workshop—but probably more universal.

Cardin was a young and successful state delegate when he attended with his father, a Baltimore judge, a tense meeting of the membership of their synagogue. As the discussion became heated, the young Cardin told his wise father that he was going to stand up to seek resolution of the conflict. His father immediately told him to stifle his conciliatory impulse, saying “This is much more difficult than disputes in the Maryland House of Delegates. “ 

Ben listened to his dad.

Sen. Cardin then suggested at the brand-new sanctuary, “I’m sure that no such discussions happened at B’Nai Israel.” The comment drew knowing laughter.

The youngest person at age 36 to become Maryland Speaker of the House, Cardin announced his resignation three weeks ago from the U.S. Senate after 58 years of public service. Now 79, he will not run for re-election in 2024. Maryland will lose a true, squeaky -clean and intelligent politician who rarely sought publicity.

My family has known and liked him for nearly six decades. He is one of the best in our nation’s capital, as he was in Annapolis.

I recall that when he was the House Speaker in Annapolis, he was incredibly effective. Gov. Harry Hughes was willing to leave policymaking to the General Assembly. Cardin picked up the gauntlet and acted aggressively on property tax system, the educational funding formula and higher ethical standards.

Exceedingly difficult issues.

What caught my attention was Cardin’s inclination to punish Democratic legislators whose votes he needed at critical moments but were not delivered. Though not much discussed, punishment is commonplace in legislations, as renegade legislators find themselves moved to committees that may not have been to their liking. 

Independence has a cost in politics. Ironically, Cardin took positions in Congress opposed by Democratic administrations, without suffering any political damage. He understood well the intricacies of foreign policy issues.

Cardin’s toughness was disguised by his savvy political instincts, his outstanding constituent service and his civility. His staff has always been outstanding. Turnover has been minimal.

Some years ago, I wrote him a letter critical of his vote against the Iranian Nuclear Treaty negotiated by the Obama Administration. In my opinion, he catered to his Jewish constituents and donors by opposing a landmark foreign policy initiative that I thought was necessary to add a smidgeon of calm in the explosive Mideast.

My letter was a bit snippy. In response, he wrote me a personal letter that fully explained his position. His foreign policy credentials were impeccable.

Known for being serious and cerebral, Cardin has a pleasing sense of humor, as I noted earlier in this essay. At a fundraiser some years ago in Talbot County hosted by a couple he knew and liked, Cardin referred kiddingly to conversations with these loyal, generous Democrats, ones in which the couple rarely agreed. He earned some laughs.

As opposed to focusing on Ben Cardin’s legislative expertise, something justifiably touted in post-retirement announcements, I have opted to provide personal insights into a wonderfully decent person and well-respected  public servant. We can easily ignore the human side of politicians often viewed solely on the political stage.

Cardin’s departure leaves a much sought-after position in Maryland politics. Several Democrats have expressed interest in succeeding Sen. Cardin. I have no choice at the moment. I will seek more than raw ambition and unrealistic promises.

Cardin has 20 months left to serve in the U.S. Senate. While abandoning any worry about re-election fundraising and constant campaigning, he will continue to support Marylanders in his resolute, rational and wise manner.

In his announcement, he opined there was more to life than politics. He’s right. And sensible, as usual.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

 

 

 

Established in 1710, the town of Easton elected last week its first female mayor, Megan Cook. Think about it—that’s 313 years.

Founded in 1845, the U.S. Naval Academy (USNA) admitted its first women in 1975 and its first female graduate in 1980. That’s 130 and 135 years, respectively.

In mid-July 2023, the Naval Academy will install its first female superintendent, Rear Adm. Yvette Davids, in the 178 years that have elapsed since the academy was founded on the banks of the Severn River. Davids also was the first Hispanic American woman to command a warship.

Some might say that it is about time that women have assumed leadership positions in the political and military realms. They would be right. Patience for progress can be painfully frustrating.

Cook replaces Mayor Bob Willey, who led Easton conscientiously for 20 years. His style was steady and solid. What he lacked in charisma, he made up with a friendly, accessible manner. While his talking style was unpolished, his commitment to his position of mayor was unquestioned. I hope that Eastonians pay tribute to Willey for his long, dedicated service as mayor of a vibrant Eastern Shore town.

It seemed to this former Easton resident that Megan Cook was an integral member of numerous community initiatives, including the wonderful children’s play area in Idlewild Park. When I listened to her during the Talbot Spy’s mayoral candidates’ forum emceed by Craig Fuller, I was impressed with her creative and enthusiastic approach to governing. She was someone in the game, not on the sidelines.

Easton is a truly welcoming, livable town. We lived there for 44 years. It offers noteworthy medical expertise, plentiful recreation, improving public schools, first-rate utility company, terrific restaurants and adequate shopping.

That said, Mayor Cook and the Town Council will need to cope with increasing traffic, unpopular housing developments and downtown improvement. Small businesses will need attention. Affordable housing must be a priority, however complicated that might be. And a harmonious relationship with county government calls for constructive communication.

Well-planned use of the Shore Medical Center on Washington Street, when abandoned in upcoming years for a site near the airport, will be a crucial leadership challenge for Mayor Cook. It must happen with public input and flawless planning. It can be an asset or an embarrassment.

One other piece of unsolicited advice to Cook: show up, thus allowing your constituents to see you and express their thoughts—and even their constant complaints. It comes with the job despite the impact on one’s time with family. I suspect you know this political reality.

Rear Adm. Davids, a 1989 Academy graduate, faces a difficult mission as superintendent, a position that has no comparison to command of a warship. The superintendent is virtually a university president who must oversee the academic and behavioral conduct of 4,500 men and women. But the USNA is no ordinary institution of higher learning. It must inculcate leadership lessons and expectations from day one of Plebe summer.

The detrimental effect of global warming on sea-level rise, with consequent flooding and erosion at the academy, demands attention and expensive adaptation. To avoid town-gown tension, USNA must continue to cultivate cooperative relations with Annapolis residents.

Closer to the nation’s capital than the other two major service academies, its warts come under intense scrutiny. Instances of cheating and sexual harassment quickly garner unrelenting media glare. 

I applaud Easton voters for electing Megan Cook. I commend the judgment of the Secretary of the Navy and the Chief of Naval Operations for selecting Rear Adm. Davids as the incoming superintendent. I feel confident that both will do well. As members of the Society of the Firsts (just formed by this writer), they will quickly thrust aside their newly earned status and simply perform capably and effectively.

Our nation, often inflicted with defective leadership, can celebrate the promotion of women in careers of their choosing. Periodically, our societal horizon looks promising and hopeful. Dreadful influences vanish temporarily.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

 

I was 12. The year was 1957. I joined family members in a sparkling ballroom at the Eden Roc Hotel in Miami Beach when I suddenly became mesmerized by the calypso sounds voiced by an incredible performer.

Never before had I heard a live solo performance. It was unforgettable.

The charismatic entertainer was Harry Belafonte, who died last week at age 96. I normally pay little or no attention to the death of a celebrity. This time was different.

Belafonte’s lyrics reflected his Jamaican roots. His famous 1956 song, “Day-O (The Banana Boat Song”). with its contagious lilting melody, stuck with me for years. So did the image of an elegant singer who captivated the audience with his voice and persona. The Pompeii Ballroom was his domain that evening.

As I learned, his immensely popular musical masterpiece simply evaded the consciousness of my 12-year-old self. Belafonte purposely produced an ode to hard-working, poorly treated boat captains. He targeted the travail of colonialism.

He eschewed the image of lazy Jamaican men sitting around on coconut trees. His songwriting was purposeful. He sought more and sang about it.

Belafonte did more. Far more, away from the spotlight.

Until I read a column paying tribute to the deceased performer, I knew nothing about his active participation in our country’s civil rights movement. His career suffered from activism. He was a close associate of the inestimable Martin Luther King, Jr. He used his fame to promote civil rights at an explosive time.

For better or worse, celebrities enjoy a platform unavailable to the rest of us. Some use it wisely. Some do not. It is more than just showing up and gaining attention.

Several years ago, at my alma mater, I listened as Irish rock star Bono spoke. I recall dreading and deriding his selection as the speaker. I wondered: what could he possibly say of any value?

When I told family members about my plans to attend graduation, I deliberately mispronounced his name for effect and referred to him as Sonny Bono, another well-known performer who subsequently became a U.S. congressperson.

I was dead wrong about Bono. Happily so.

At first concerned when he began his remarks with typical use of humor, by telling University of Pennsylvania graduates, parents and alumni that the last time he appeared at historic Franklin Field he was arrested for crass language, he began to exhibit another side of his personality.

For nearly 30 minutes, Bono spoke knowledgeably and compassionately about poverty in Africa. He was committed to mitigating poverty. His concerts by Bono and the U2 Band have raised money to provide relief. He has met with world leaders.

Like Belafonte, Bono focuses on substance, not show in working to relieve social and health problems in Africa. He takes himself seriously, and so should others. So much for my skepticism.

At 12 in 1957, I simply enjoyed a gifted entertainer. I did not listen closely to the lyrics. Fifty years later, I overcame my pre-conceptions and fully appreciated a speech given by a world-renown performer as he discussed the horror of poverty and HIV/AIDS in Africa.

I was fascinated by Bono. I was enthralled by Harry Belafonte. I treasure my memories of, and respect for them.

The colloquial expression, “all that glitters is not gold,” is contrary to the outer artistry and inner soul of a Jamaican entertainer and Irish rock star.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

When a family member or friend is suffering the throes of dying, close watchers can see the end approaching. They prepare themselves for the inevitable. Still, death evokes strong grief and pain.

This same sad cycle affects academic institutions, small and large businesses, churches and a slew of civic organizations. The impact pervades the communities of participants and supporters, spurring disappointment and despair.

Such an event happened last week to my wife and me, my daughter and granddaughter. The Oldfields School, an all female independent boarding school founded in 1867, announced it was closing in June.

Enrollment had continued to decline in recent years. Financial challenges were insurmountable. Choices were scarce.

My oldest daughter had graduated in 1991, her daughter in June 2022. Located in the lovely rolling hills of northern Baltimore County in Glencoe, Oldfields offered a nurturing environment that enabled adolescent women to achieve academic success and heightened self-esteem.

The experience was invaluable to my daughter and granddaughter, as they both acknowledge. My wife and I will be forever grateful.

Small classes (including day students), special attention and firm but caring expectations combined to give Oldfields a special feeling, one felt by thousands of alumnae over 156 years. The emotional attachment will not fade for its graduates and their parents.

As the board chair and interim head wrote last week, Oldfields and the Garrison Forest School will establish a “collaboration.” It is not a merger. Located in a nearby valley in Baltimore County, Garrison Forest will offer current students an opportunity to attend a well-respected boarding and day school.

As a graduate of an excellent public high school in Baltimore, I well understand that outstanding public schools permeate our country. Fortunately, they are well-funded for the most part. They are incalculable assets in the communities they serve.

They form the foundation of our country, producing first-rate citizens.

Private, independent schools rely on tuition, alumni giving and endowment (built by donations and bequests). They are expensive. Parents consider them worth the financial sacrifice. However, as the cost of colleges and universities has risen, the expense of secondary and higher education institutions can become unbearable.

Single-gender independent schools are finding it increasingly difficult to sustain themselves throughout the nation.

My daughter and I, as we observed plummeting enrollment and rising tuition in recent years at Oldfields, anticipated drastic action. When the school head left after four years last June to accept a number two position at a private school in New Hampshire, the colloquial phrase of “ jumping from a sinking ship” seemed apt.

Dying is wrenching to watch. You pray for a miracle. Then, death suddenly happens. But to those attentive to a failing school or business or church, the demise is hurtful and heartfelt—but not stunningly surprising.

Oldfields’ lovely setting will no longer be a venue for academic and emotional growth. Supporters hope that it does not sprout mini-mansions, as is evident on adjacent parcels. This past parent (academic verbiage) has proposed that should the property be sold, that the proceeds be used to establish a scholarship fund for young women.

Out of something disturbing can come some good. Time will judge my innate optimism.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

Spy readers are intelligent and perceptive, as reflected in their comments. Some of the Spyists choose to send me emails instead of comments concerning my musings.

One this week from a friend whose mental acuity I deeply admire took me time to digest. My initial response missed the mark. He made that clear to me. My second attempt seemed more successful, though drawing no comment from him.

Okay, what was his point, one that I found startling? In his acceptance speech following receipt of the Novel Peace Award in 1912, former Secretary of State and U.S. Senator Elihu Root opined that human connections to the caveman, encompassing barbaric behavior, would take many generations to refine, if not eliminate.

My friend’s conclusion in 2023 is direct and troubling. He just may question my conclusion.

Disappointed by modern-day behavior—mass shootings, political cowardice, rampant corruption, economic inequality, international invasions and democratic degradation—my friend wonders and worries whether the destruction of humanity is ripe for a drastic restart.

Subsequent generations would have “to learn and remember new and different lessons and ideas.” Time would be long and arduous. Behavioral modification is a lengthy, painful process.

My friend’s perspective emanates from a seriously somber view of reality. He eschews fluff and frivolity. He is a Viet Nam veteran who witnessed human destruction. He lives well as a retired attorney. However, he takes little for granted. He’s tough-minded.

I too bemoan our human condition. As I have written previously, my children and grandchildren are inheriting a world much more troubled and disruptive than the one my wife and I did. As opposed to engaging in atomic bomb drills, our grandchildren participate in live-shooter drill in schools.

I cannot imagine their fear. I fret were the real thing to happen, as has been the case far too frequently in our violent country.

The reality of senseless school killings is distressing. Young lives are obliterated for reasons known only to mentally deranged shooters. The young die far too young. Their families and communities never recover from the shock and death.

Where I disagree with my esteemed friend is time. Despite the impending destruction of humanity and its potential usefulness as a new start, my impatience governs my reaction. Throw in some hope that responsible and respected leaders, trusted by members of both political parties, will adopt Superman traits and create a better world, and I promote timeliness over adaptation to ongoing ruthlessness.

I thank my friend for introducing me to the wisdom of Elihu Root, a great statesman who understood the human condition and tried to achieve a more peaceful world. His Nobel Prize Award epitomizes his success, his thrust for a better world. He deserves recognition, even after 111 years.

Maybe the world that we as children of World War II and Depression-era parents is long gone. Faith in government, corporations and religious institutions is weak, if not passé. Honor and honesty are subservient to selfishness and insincerity.

Character is a lost art. Love of country and devotion to shared values are remnants of the past.

Our beloved experiment as a nation committed to democracy—and the pursuit of happiness—is enshrined in history books. But its current allure has suffered from actions wreaking of bigotry and bombast.

Yet, I dread the idea of blowing up what is still good and worthy. I still believe in leadership and integrity. I yearn for authentic goodness and compassion. I acknowledge my unbridled optimism.

Tribalism is pervasive. Thinking conforms to your cadre of friends and affinity groups. Different thinking threatens the status quo, if not your relationships.

Yielding to self-destruction is extreme. Trying to reverse our down- slide, while difficult, is a better, though fraught course of action.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas is oblivious to ethical expectations. Consequently, his actions have degraded the once-lofty stature of the Supreme Court. He should resign.

Expensive trips on a private plane and yacht, along with luxurious housing, provided by a billionaire Republican Texan, have gone unreported until disclosure by “ProPublica.” Thomas revealed no such largesse to his peers. His behavior is inexcusable.

No longer are we Americans surprised by excessively inappropriate behavior by formerly trustworthy public servants. Perception matters not to Thomas. He convinced himself he committed no wrongdoing. His generous host, Harlan Crow, claimed that no conversation ever occurred that would have touched upon any upcoming Supreme Court decisions.

Really? Just sports talk? Global warming? New movies? Inflation? Public education?

Thomas reported none of the upscale “personal hospitality” (undefined till recently). After all, he did nothing wrong, nothing extraordinary that normal people would eschew if invited by a super-rich person who simply considered Justice Thomas a friend. It mattered not that Thomas sat on the highest court in the land and rendered decisions that would draw attention from wealthy, conservative plutocrats, including corporate executives and the leader of the conservative think tank, the American Enterprise Institute.

Fortunately for Thomas, the U.S. Supreme Court has no code of ethics. The federal government does prescribe a code of conduct for the lower courts. Even he wanted to be contrite—an unlikely supposition— Thomas could claim that his friendship with a wealthy real estate developer and willing recipient of several six-figure vacations violated no rules or laws.

As noted earlier, perception is not an admissible offense in Justice Thomas’ world. He’s accountable to no one. He enjoys an untouchable status.

Harlan Crow said he expected nothing from his 25-year relationship with Thomas. Of course, his friend’s role as a reliable voice of right-wing legal thought was simply unintentional. It would be presumptuous on my part to suppose that Crow even had a scintilla of interest in overturning Roe v. Wade or election rules in the South, or gun control. Coincidentally, Thomas has served as an inscrutable Supreme Court justice for 31 years.

College football in the highly competitive Southeastern Conference is far more riveting than Supreme Court decision-making. And there’s no keener observer of SEC, I’m sure, than Justice Thomas. Please excuse my sarcasm. An unspoken prohibition on any conversation about the Supreme Court seems absurd, if not improbable.

Friends are wont to decry the ethical void in our country. Our values are shameful, so the plaint is commonly voiced. Political polarization exacerbates our societal decline, the argument goes. Trust is unrealistic.

When I learn about Clarence Thomas’ acceptance of extravagant gifts, I too believe that highly regarded and respected public figures contribute mightily to our national malaise. My faith in those normally considered trustworthy is unrewarded, if not sadly naive

Cynicism is easily and currently applicable. Hope is difficult to sustain. We bemoan the future. We yearn for times when ethics mattered as a desirable standard, not an unattainable objective.

Justice Thomas might acknowledge his poor judgment. I question my own judgment in expecting an apology. Resignation is out of the question. He claims he got poor advice. His moral compass is out of whack.

He sought minimum compliance and forsook any inkling of being a role model. The perks of friendship bestowed by a billionaire and longtime friend took precedence over judicial leadership.

The Supreme Court no longer represents the highest level of probity. Promiscuous use of position is a new standard.

Thomas deserves commendation on his choice of friends…the wealthier the better, the more favors the better, the more luxurious trips, the more appealing.

Where do we find unquestioned ethical behavior? Not on the Supreme Court.

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. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.