An invaluable asset to a busy tavern owner in Colonial Williamsburg (CW), Gowan Pamphlet, an enslaved person, led a secret life as a Southern Baptist minister determined to serve his fellow “negro” residents. He did so at his own risk.

Since the only allowable religion was the Church of England, any other religious observances were forbidden. Or scoffed at.

Pamphlet’s Black parishioners were particularly susceptible to harassment and hurt. White powers-to-be feared the possibility that Blacks would run away and seek their freedom. And many did, resentful of their second status and degrading treatment.

Pamphlet, who traced his last name to Thomas Paine’s treatise on independence for the Thirteen Colonies from Great Britain, “Common Sense,” was a messenger of God and a hidden voice for freedom. He lived a double life as a trusted enslaved employee and courageous religious leader.

He was relentless in spreading the Gospel despite perilous obstacles.

Though his name would never attain the status of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and James Madison—nation-builders who confidently strode the byways of Williamsburg—the charismatic preacher provided an outlet for oppressed Blacks. He did so while working full-time in Mrs. Jane Vobe’s King’s Arm’s Tavern, listening to, and learning from conversations that included merchants, lawyers, public figures, philosophers and academic persons from the College of William and Mary.

The popular tavern was Pamphlet’s classroom.

He was brave, righteous and sharp-witted. “Negroes” had limited freedom to worship, thanks to Pamphlet.

To loyal readers, it may be obvious that I recently have returned from an annual respite in Colonial Williamsburg, tasting the fruits of history so eloquently and intelligently presented by the nation’s premier history museum. Once focused almost entirely on the White founders, CW now offers an unvarnished view of the enslaved experience.

Performances by actors who also are historians are precious and painful. Amid the quest for democracy and freedom, intolerance and slavery hovered closely to the surface of Williamsburg society. Servants faced daily oppression and mistreatment.

Freed from slavery in 1793 at age 43, Preacher Pamphlet formally established a Black Baptist Church as part of the Dover Baptist Association. It had five hundred members. He no longer had to conduct services, weddings and funerals in secret for fear of being bodily punished. His status as an enslaved person had ended, thanks to Mrs. Vobe’s son.

For more than an hour, standing alone on a stage, the exuberant Pamphlet (James Ingram) told one fascinating story after another, interspersed frequently with exhortations of “Amen.” He entranced the audience.

At one point, the charismatic preacher led the audience in singing a Black gospel song. I happily joined in joyful clapping.

During an earlier visit, my wife and I witnessed a wedding ceremony conducted by Pamphlet for a young Black couple prepared to run away. They faced the prospect of a brief marriage. In essence, they were stealing themselves away from their slave-holding owners.

This scene was simultaneously celebratory and sad.

Colonial Williamsburg fulfills our need for mental and emotional refreshment. Our founding as a group of 13 vibrant colonies trying to escape the yoke of British rule combined dissent by determined White men and equally resolute enslaved and free Blacks.

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.

An article last week in “Maryland Matters” painted a clear picture of the political conundrum facing the Maryland General Assembly: cut the budget deeply or raise taxes and fees to reduce the deficit.

Maryland Senate President Bill Ferguson is proposing, for public consumption, as-yet specified cuts in the governor’s $63.1 billion budget proposal and potential increase in fees. He signaled that taxes would not be on the legislative docket during this session. The timing is not right, he said.

What does he really mean? He and other leaders want more time to prepare and persuade the public to accept more taxes. The public is still reeling from inflation and economic stress, he opined. Taxes would add fuel to economic pain. Ferguson believes that patience is necessary.

But fees are taxes. No doubt about it.

Politicians believe that fees are more palatable. They target users, not all taxpayers. For example, closing corporate loopholes is a possibility. Increasing the state tax on inheritance and capital gains is another option. Relief for working families is part of the same tax package that is being considered. Revenue produced would be $1.6 billion.

When Ferguson speaks to the media, his audience includes Gov. Wes Moore, as well as his colleagues and interest groups. He wants the governor and staff to be on alert for legislative fixes, which Moore could always veto.

Ferguson also is pinging the rich; they may be targeted for greater support of a deficit-ridden state government. He also knows that enhanced taxes will generate heavy opposition from the well-heeled.

The danger in foregoing tax increases for another year is the loss of revenue for a year and continued expansion of the structural deficit, expected to increase to $1 billion in fiscal year 2025.

Taxes have toxic consequences for politicians hoping to be elected in two years. Constituents have long memories. A recent example happened in 2014 when Lt. Gov. Anthony Brown lost to Larry Hogan as retribution for Gov. Martin O’Malley’s more than 40 fee and tax increases during the Great Recession.

It is easy to forget that O’Malley also made heavy cuts. He faced an untenable dilemma not of his making. Now Maryland ‘s Attorney General, Brown paid a price for loyalty. He later became a member of Congress before being elected attorney general in 2022. He overcame an embarrassing defeat.

Economists often question the efficacy of cutting a way through a deficit. Government services suffer. While elimination of supposed government bloat may be beneficial, cuts often affect programs that a governor and his or her political base disfavor. Fairness is questionable.

Though I understand Sen. Ferguson’s shrewd calculation of the current political climate, I think the times also call for backbone supported by data. If the public views a tax increase as prudent, used for sound purposes—though that is in the eyes of the beholder—I think that an elected official’s re-election is not fated for failure.

An important consideration is the House of Delegates, typically more liberal than the State Senate. Budget negotiations can be difficult between the two chambers; compromise is essential. Though Democrats dominate both houses, they represent different parts of the state with significantly diverse interests and constituencies.

Civility normally rules.

Republicans have a voice, powerless though it might be. Frustration is a common malady of the GOP in Maryland. Gov. Larry Hogan, awarded with two terms, nonetheless endured automatic veto overrides on bills favored by the legislature. He was helpless in blocking vetoes imposed by an overwhelmingly Democratic legislature.

Heading into its second month of a 90-day session, the 2024 General Assembly will have its share of policy differences and political fireworks. Special interests will be vocal, mostly behind the scenes.

What seems certain often is not.

Democracy is noisy and messy. Maryland’s brand is no different.

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.

After months of ridiculous waiting caused by a U.S. senator oblivious to military readiness, the first woman to become superintendent of the U.S. Naval Academy (USNA) won confirmation in early January. Vice Adm. Yvette Davids, a 1989 academy graduate, also became the first Latino to lead a school founded in 1845.

The first woman graduated from USNA in 1980.

Davids was among 350 military officers delayed from promotion by Sen. Tommy Tuberville, an Alabama Republican determined to delete Defense Department language allowing female members to receive money to travel out of state for an abortion. He staged a one-person blocking action. It is a privilege extended to a U.S. Senator, one normally used cautiously.

Derided by senators on both sides of the political divide, Tuberville unsuccessfully fought a culture war for reasons known only to the former football coach.

He injected politics into a process that calls for statesmanship, not showmanship.

A Trump acolyte, he gained publicity while incurring pressure from his colleagues. He achieved little else. A rookie senator, he lost credibility. His play-calling suffered from a lack of common sense. Perhaps his fans back home applauded his senseless maneuver.

His fellow senators were aghast. So was the Defense Department. A new skipper is now at the helm after withstanding too long a political headwind.

Well-experienced as a warship commander, Davids now leads an institution comprising more than 4,500 future leaders and nearly 600 faculty members. Its mission is academic and experiential, enveloped within a physically demanding environment dedicated to training young men and women to become officers.

Only two other service academies, as well as the Virginia Military Institute, compare in rigor and expectations.

As superintendent, Davids must confront continuing sexual assault cases. She must ensure that midshipmen are prepared to serve amid global uncertainty and unending violence. She must sustain good relations with the City of Annapolis. She must keep alumni happily engaged in the academy.

And she must reverse recent losses to Army. I suspect she is not thinking about the famed Army-Navy game as a priority.

Since moving to Annapolis more than three years ago, I have learned that its alumni are enthusiastically loyal. So are their spouses. Many have moved to Naptown for economic opportunities after their service, and for pleasure in retirement.

Their pride in the Naval Academy, which tested their self-discipline and time management as Middies, seems to grow in proportion to their years away from the “Yard.”

Joy and frivolity are tightly controlled during the four years of academy regimen. Visits home may be different. After all, Middies are still young people who need to blow off steam.

A tourist attraction due to its history (home to four signers of the Declaration of Independence), its waterborne activities, its status as the state capital and its many restaurants, the city on the Severn River draws thousands of visitors too as home to the U.S. Naval Academy. Midshipmen are part of the culture, often seen attired smartly in their uniforms; they are a presence too running in packs through the streets of the historic city.

Admiral Davids will not have to deal with student demonstrations. She will not have to explain tuition hikes; there are none. No Midshipman would dare to deface a building. Though social and cultural issues still hover over the academy, they are not disruptive.

I am not suggesting that Admiral Davids has an easy job, just one so different from leadership of private universities. A similarity is the presence and possible influence of wealthy donors. A major difference, so it seems, is tolerance of hateful speech in the name of free expression.

The academy also has endured its share of cheating scandals, an unfortunate blemish on a renowned military academy.

Davids may find that the excruciatingly long confirmation delay engineered by Sen. Tuberville was annoying but much less stressful than serving in equal parts an educator and military commander. Her career points to success leading the Naval Academy.

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 did something last week that I never thought I would do, acting impulsively but correctly. Life is not static.

I cancelled my subscription to the Baltimore Sun, a newspaper that I have read for 70 years. Its new owner, David D. Smith, executive chair of the Sinclair Broadcast Group, revealed in a testy meeting a week ago with the Sun’s reporting staff that he had not read a newspaper for 40 years. In recent months, as he was planning to buy the Sun, the Annapolis Capital, the Carroll Times, the Towson Times and other publications in the Baltimore area, he read the flagship paper four times.

He bought the papers for what he described as a nine-figure sum (likely $100 million of his personal fortune). A local owner, known for his blunt, opinionated style, told the staff that he did not trust what little he reads in newspapers. He said that the paper, which won a Pulitzer Prize for unearthing nefarious actions by former Mayor Catherine Pugh, was insufficiently engaged in ferreting out corruption in Baltimore City.

I have written previously about my despair over the demise of local print journalism, as symbolized by the closing of more than 1,500 community papers nationwide. Towns and cities have lost a critical aspect of democracy. Absent information about local government, elected officials escape public accountability.

Sunshine has no outlet.

Corruption can be an ugly consequence. Citizens are unaware. Rumor is the conduit for news. Communities suffer from an alarming lack of reliable information.

Smith told reporters and editors that they ought to conduct polling to determine what readers want to read. He envisions reporters as catering to the public by writing poll-driven articles, thus increasing readership in Smith’s opinion and drawing more profit.

Smith’s politics are decidedly conservative. Some years ago, Sinclair’s nearly 200 TV stations were ordered to run the same piece bemoaning “fake news.” Under his leadership, his media empire became a mouthpiece for the erratic president at the time. It was top-down direction at its worst.

Though I read five digital publications, along with a few magazines, I simply crave to be informed. I care little about the editorial tilt. I seek objectivity, if that is humanly possible. I eschew publications unabashedly offering a political slant. That said, I do read numerous opinion pieces, including ones advocating conservative perspectives.

Unless I am totally mistaken, the 186-year-old Baltimore Sun will never be the same. It already is a shrunken version of what it once was when it operated foreign offices throughout the world. At one time, it was considered an excellent regional newspaper. It lost its luster among ownership changes and rounds of staff cuts,

I refuse to subscribe to a newspaper owned by a person who publicly has denigrated print media. I refuse to watch a paper devolve into a political mouthpiece for an uninformed owner. In time we will learn if he dictates coverage and content. His co-owner, Armstrong Williams, a conservative columnist and owner of TV stations, seemingly does not share Smith’s dislike of print media.

I will miss the Sun’s coverage of political machinations in our state capital of Annapolis. I will miss its sports reporting. I will miss its connection to the city where I was raised and educated through high school. And, finally, I will miss the obituaries, another link to Baltimore.

It might seem easy to go online and cancel a subscription. Just a few clicks, right? Wrong. A local newspaper is a trusted source of valuable information. An old friend no longer is part of my life.

Sad turn of events. Papers can die from poor leadership, not just loss of subscriptions and advertising revenue.

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 resignations during the past five weeks of Penn’s Liz Magill and Harvard’s Claudia Gay have shaken this avid Penn alumnus to the core of his sacred beliefs in the quality and societal impact of elite Ivy League schools. I must change my opinions consistent with unmistakable disruption.

After three months of disturbing immersion in the turmoil that engulfed my alma mater, I became puzzled by the dichotomy between free and hateful speech. I wondered why universities feel compelled to assume public positions on antisemitism and foreign belligerence. I thought anew about the qualities that define university presidents. I began to question board composition.

Here’s what I have decided, at least until my opinions, under a barrage of pundit-driven commentary, become fungible. My beliefs are no longer absolute. Academia is grappling with change resulting from unforeseen antisemitism and piercing criticism from deep-pocketed alumni.

Free speech is inviolate—until it provokes violence and insecurity. While believing that free speech must include uncomfortable ideas, it must not be allowed to turn physically harmful as it did in Charlottesville, Va. in 2017 and the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection at the U.S. Capitol. Fear by students to walk across campuses, as was true at Penn, is unacceptable.

As repositories of informed knowledge about foreign conflicts and the despicable roots of antisemitism, universities are seen as purveyors of credible responses. After observing the University of Pennsylvania’s response to a Palestinian literary festival in mid-September and the Oct. 7, 2023, attack by Hamas on Israel, I wonder if University of Chicago’s policy on neutrality is preferable to controversial statements by university presidents and consequent condemnation by affronted critics.

Presidents of private, elite universities are not merely fundraisers and promoters. That lesson landed heavily on my preconceptions. They must lead, overcoming contention and abhorrent student behavior. They must act. They must hold students accountable. They must eschew a cancel culture and ensure that the faculty comprises more than token conservative professors.

University must hold themselves accountable. They cannot hide behind past practices.

At the same time, wealthy donors must edit themselves. When they close their checkbooks to generate academic change, they too are exercising free speech. However, they are using money in a transactional way to disrupt universities that they supposedly love. Their support is conditional, as events disclosed. I found their behavior objectionable.

Were I exceedingly wealthy and fell out of love with Penn, I simply would redirect my funds to another charity. I would not go public with my gripes. That is exactly what the ringleader of discontent did. He sought the resignation of Liz Magill and the board chair. And he succeeded.

And, undoubtedly, universities must rely on common sense, touched upon, but not dependent on legal advice; the tragic miscalculation by the presidents of Penn, Harvard and M.I.T. to answer Rep. Elise Stefanik’s hostile and theatrical questions at congressional hearing onDec. 12, 2023, with legalese was embarrassing. Stefanik enhanced her right-wing, firebrand reputation by acting harshly and rudely, albeit effectively.

Lastly, I believe that board governance must undergo change. Yes, wealthy check-writers are necessary and desirable. But so are small donors who offer keen understanding of campus environments and real-world concerns. Board members must speak up and suggest caution and due diligence.

In Penn’s case, I believe that a politically attuned trustee would have urged Magill to seek advice from a lobbyist, not an attorney. She was entering a hostile political arena, not a scholarly seminar. I repeat: while, yes, she was ambushed by Stefanik, she and Gay were vulnerable for lack of savvy preparation.

I bemoan Magill’s and Gay’s resignations. They deserved better treatment. They became liabilities, affecting donations and admissions. I hope that schools like Penn and Harvard avoid, if possible, recriminations of their right-wing critics and assertive donors and select leaders who understand how to justify the perceived excellence of their institutions.

The path forward will be difficult. Expectations by students, faculty and alumni will be unrelenting. Penn and Harvard must strive to warrant their elite status.

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.

For political wonks, tomorrow is a momentous day in Maryland. It is the first day of the 446th session of the Maryland General Assembly in the oldest continuously operating state house in the United States.

Amid the celebratory atmosphere pervading the State House, with family members trying to figure out what their parents or spouses or partners do in the corridors of power, an underlying current will be roiling close to the surface of the bonhomie.

The centerpiece of legislative machinations will be taxes. Sound the groans. The worse is yet to come. Sadly so, dear readers.

Gov. Wes Moore has rung the alarm bells. The state faces a $400 million budget crunch in this fiscal year, rising to $761 million in the next and $1.8 billion in five years. While revenue is expected to rise by 3.3 percent annually, expenses are to go up 5.1 percent, according to the Maryland Department of Legislative Services. In Annapolis lingo, this picture portrays a “structural deficit.”

Federal largesse tied to Covid stimulus dollars has dried up. Spending on new programs, when money was flush and flowing, must grind to a stop, at least for now. “Discipline” is urgent, according to Gov. Moore.

Counties will absorb a substantial portion of the $3.3 billion in cuts in transportation projects. That is a setback. Counties cannot foot the expensive cost of roads, highways and bridges.

The huge Blueprint for Maryland’s Future, a bold education initiative—albeit an unfounded $4 billion mandate calling for universal pre-K and higher teacher salaries—will chew up a chunk of available funding. My preference would be block grants to superintendents to determine the chief priorities of their public-school systems.

My stance is a non-starter.

Of course, crime will command attention. So will health care. And so will climate control. And so will tax benefits for military families.

Legislators and the governor will need to agree (or not) on schemes to increase revenue through taxes to cover unfunded expenses. This wrenching effort will test legislative backbone. No politician wants to support higher taxes and anger an unforgiving constituency.

One proposal would raise taxes on the extremely wealthy whose annual wages exceed $775,000; increased taxes on stock gains are under consideration, as are increased estate taxes.

Allowing internet gaming is another potential revenue producer. I am bemused that the state would consider milking money from IT gaming to fill its coffers. While granted that gambling is an intractable part of the human condition, the state would be benefiting from, and cultivating a vice.

Is that good public policy? Technocrats would argue that taxpayers would be more amenable to tariffs on gambling, especially those who gamble on the stock market and comfortably accept losses in anticipation of eventual gains.

I also question the wisdom of taxing millionaires. Doing so will encourage e the rich to change their residences to Florida. It is a common reaction to increased taxes on the part of people who love Maryland but are ready and able to spend six months and a day (required to be a so-called non-resident) in retirement haven in Florida.

Another downfall of losing residents to Florida and other tax-friendly states is a drop in philanthropy. People typically give where they live, except in the case of their universities.

Another observation, dear readers. State legislators perform more responsibly when the state budget is strained. They make more prudent decisions. They feel constrained in funding large multi-year program. Interest groups will face disappointment.

As is my custom prior to the General Assembly, I urge readers to follow the legislature’s twists and turns. Particularly when taxes are in the mix.

While increased taxes are necessary to fund increasingly expensive services, they warrant public scrutiny and input.

Follow the money. It may lead back to your wallets.

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 know a person who thrives on a well-ingrained sense of victimhood. After his parents divorced, his father remarried; his stepmother supposedly disliked him. She and his father had two sons whom his father liked and, and so he opined, nurtured more than he. Each has had a successful career. This person has struggled. He is now married to his third wife.

He takes no responsibility for his upsets. He is an unapologetic narcissist. He constantly complains. A relationship with him does not improve in time. His life and its trials do not differ from others’ upbringings. He has chosen the negative, woe-is-me route of life. I have known many who will themselves to adopt the positive and lead fruitful journeys despite dysfunctional childhoods. 

Not this guy.

The master of victimhood is our former president. As everyone knows, he holds himself unaccountable for his 2020 election loss and his legal morass. He confronts any responsibility for illegal actions with his favorite term: “witch hunt.” And childish insults for his critics.

And his fervent followers and weak-kneed Republican enablers support his pathetic, grievance-ridden narrative.

Some Spy readers will think: “Here he goes again condemning a flawed but effective president.” I question his effectiveness. Our allies distrusted him. Close advisers questioned his judgment. One characterized him as a moron.

Should he win a second term, our democracy will face incalculable damage at the sleazy hands of a despot determined to undermine the U.S. Constitution. Canada will endure its own border immigration crisis, as Americans, fearful of living in a country ruled by a dangerous narcissist, will flock to our neighbor to the north.

We will suffer through another four years of chaos and corruption. Democratic processes matter not. Civility is an elite concept. Appropriate presidential conduct is unnecessary. An amoral wave of behavior in the Oval Office will engulf our country.

Am I concerned that this deranged person might win? Absolutely. 

He has an undeniable appeal to people who consider him a friend of the alienated and angry. His disciples view his political opponents as oblivious to everyday problems.

They do not trust the government; nor does the former chief executive. They hate the East Coast elites. So does he. They despise the media. So does he. They believe in illegal insurrections. So does he.

The beginning of the year is a time for optimism and hope. As it should be.

I dearly wish I could envision a reality that does not include a self-appointed victim and victimizer. Unfortunately, I cannot. I wish to see lightness, instead of darkness. Reality hounds me.

I am fretful. I am fearful.

I urge readers who share my obsessive worry—Democrats, Independents and mainstream Republicans–to participate fully in the 2024 election. Donate to the Democratic candidate, whether it is Joe Biden or someone else. Place a sign in front of your house. Join phone banks. Protect our fragile democracy.

And vote—do not stay home.

This column provides a platform for my beliefs and observations. I would be sadly remiss were I to ignore the danger posed by a person who cares
little, if at all about a cause above himself.

He is an inveterate liar. The truth is foreign and distasteful to him.

While I do not plan for this column, celebrating its tenth anniversary in July 2024, to become a political polemic, I must declare my love of country and concern about its future. We know what we would get should the former president be re-elected. He will be equally irresponsible.

Fear and intimidation are foolish ways to manage people. To be reluctant to criticize the narcissistic former president for fear of a bombastic personal attack is ridiculous.

Who cares if he mocks the critic? I believe it to be a badge of honor. 

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 Christmas flurry is over. Time for reflection of prized and ill-advised gifts has begun, or continued from yesterday. Chatter about this or that relative is in full swing.

For our family, thoughts of a respite are distant. Today is our granddaughter’s 11th birthday. She expects it to be fully celebrated. Her parents and grandparents downplay the day at their own peril.

We dearly love our granddaughter. We learned long ago about her determined disposition. She shows no recognition of the energy and expended for Christmas. That does not matter to her.

Through the years, I have heard the lament of many people either born on Christmas Day or days adjacent to the 25th of the last month of the year. I was amused a few years ago when a friend in his early eighties took delight in his Christmas-time birthday, celebrated for one of the rare times in his full life. His visage revealed the proverbial “kid in a candy store.”

So, today, the 26th of December, we pay homage to a splendid young lady (girl?) as she resolutely exhibits pure happiness on her 11th anniversary. She is nearing an age when her childish exuberance will diminish. Adolescence will test her parents’ patience, as well as her own.

We treasure her unbridled enthusiasm.

Please bear with me as I exercise my right as a grandparent to recall the day she was born at an appointed time at Luminis/Anne Arundel Medical Center. Her early years, spent, so it seemed, as an observer of her older brother and dutiful parents, morphed into a little person who claimed her niche in the family.

She no longer was a quiet watcher. She sought her own audience. She became a “character” in her own right. She exudes cheerfulness. She’s funny too.

A principal reason we moved from idyllic Easton to bustling Annapolis was to be near our younger grandchildren (we have two older ones in northern Baltimore County), their mother (our daughter) and their father. Our plan has worked out perfectly.

We spend a lot of time with the children, watching them grow, mature and emote.They are terrific and terrifying; they can sparkle like Christmas lights and misbehave like, well, kids, trying to find themselves.

Easy for me to say as an interested party.

In my late seventies, I often dwell on the very real concept of legacy, as self-serving as that might seem. I look at, and listen to my grandchildren and try to envision their future selves.

Will they participate fully in our crazy world and try to make a difference? Will they be happy?

I have strayed a bit from today and its significance to my daughter and her family, particularly one member. Probably exhausted from the stresses and strains of Christmas—as well as the joys—my daughter and son-in-law want to ensure a happy birthday for their determined 11-year-old.

When I ponder my granddaughter’s almost-Christmas birthday, I think about the 2012 Christmas and my daughter’s discomfort and resilience. She overcame her burdensome bundle and mobility constraints to focus on her two-year-old son and his enjoyment of Christmas.

May I dare to admire her courage and grace under difficult circumstances?

More than 44 years ago, I was a thrilled spectator at this daughter’s birth in mid-August at Easton’s Memorial Hospital, known now as Shore Medical Center. I was overwhelmed with ecstasy, believing her birth was a miracle. I never considered her future as a mother. The present was my world.

The rest could wait.

 For my granddaughter, today is her primary reality. Christmas was yesterday. Gifts under the tree were wonderful. But her birthday is sacrosanct. And all family members know better than to trifle with her arrival on Planet Earth.

The “day after” Christmas belongs to my zestful granddaughter. She is all in. We simply have to follow her lead. And we do.

No pause on our part.

In early December, sitting in a small Episcopal church in Annapolis on an overcast day during a funeral for a friend, I listened as the widow noted that her dementia-ridden husband had referred to his dying condition as a “transition.” 

I found this perspective remarkable. Her husband had experienced a fleeting moment of lucidity. He knew and accepted his destination.

Three of his closest friends spoke about his big personality, his unmistakable laugh and his ever-present smile. Though I knew him for only two years, I learned to appreciate his zest for life, his ease in making and keeping friends. He was a recovering alcoholic who was driven to help to help others.

One of his many retirement activities was serving as a tour guide at the U.S. Naval Academy. His son had graduated from USNA. My friend loved this gig. Then one day, as he was giving a tour—one, I am sure, was filled with joviality—he forgot a fact. He was stunned by his inability to retrieve information that he had voiced over seven years.

He stopped doing what he loved. He underwent numerous tests. His health continued to decline. He fell a few times. He began using a walker. But he still sought human interaction. He was the recipient of unconditional compassion.

I would bet that few of us, struck by impending death, would confess that our fragile state of being was in “transition.” Though it may sound like a euphemism, I think it represents amazing self-awareness. Also, the painful concept enables family members and friends to accept the inevitable end to a vibrant life.

We all experience transitions—call them sometimes disabling potholes, if you wish—in our unpredictable lives. I think about the onset of adolescence, a rough patch for me. I think about becoming a father at age 30 of my wife’s child by a previous marriage; changing diapers was the least of my worries. I think about accepting my mortality after a heart attack at age 48. And then I think about aging and the physical ailments that accompany fitful life as a senior citizen.

If you are emotionally intelligent about advancing into delicate stages of life, marked by milestone birthdays, you understand that words like hope, pride, joy, empathy and family can be invaluable guideposts. I will explain, mercifully briefly. After all, this is an essay, not a sermon.

Those of us engaged in managing our eighth decades understand that hope is a mighty feeling. Hopeful that our health is stable, our normal functions workable.

As I have learned since compelled to cope with balance problems, I cannot allow pride to interfere with asking for help climbing up and down steps at night. It is difficult for macho men to exhibit vulnerability. I foreswear fretting about a visible show of vulnerability.

Life is so much happier with a daily dose of joy. It too calls for being open to moments of laughter and the discovery of new experiences.

The expression of empathy by a friend or family member warms the heart and softens emotional pain. It seeps into your soul. The world seems brighter.

And, finally, the literal and figurative embrace by family provides comfort. 

Transitions are unavoidable; navigating them takes strength. My deceased friend could plow through the fog of dementia to see the light and acknowledge his impending death. He found peace during a lucid moment.

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.

After more than 10 years of a bumpy, disjointed process, the point is nearing when a decision to convert and renovate the historic Chestertown Armory into a hotel and conference center ought to be made. The time has arrived to overcome opposition and move forward.

The destructive mold infestation is real. Even if removed, it could easily reappear in a structure built on a flood plain facing Chester River. Without demolition of the newer part of the iconic armory, no hotel developer and investors would be willing to assume the risk of building where mold was prevalent.

My support of a hotel, which would include the historic front portion, comes with some sadness. During my career in the Maryland National Guard, I knew that this armory served as a staging area during World War II for citizen-soldiers from Kent and Queen Anne’s counties deployed eventually to Europe and the D-Day invasion on June 6, 1944, of Omaha Beach in Normandy, France.

I worked with the late Lt. Gen. (MD) James F. Fretterd, the former adjutant general of Maryland, to obtain state funds to renovate the armory. Despite our efforts, I believe that developers Jay Shah and Keith Coe, representing Hersha Hospitality Trust, supported by the president of Washington College (WC)—which owns the building– Mike Sosulski, intend to build a hotel/conference center that would benefit WC and its visitors, as well as Chestertown residents and tourists.

I am convinced that the developers will respect the armory’s history by paying homage to those who served in the Guard and the 29th Infantry Division (Blue and Gray). In last week’s Spy interviews with Sosulski, Shah and Coe, the latter clearly said that the interior design of the hotel would display relics of the Guard’s illustrious past.

An open letter to the Chestertown Historic District CHC) by Philip Hoon, a local attorney, calls for a decision based “on the rule of law, not of popular opinion or institutional convenience.” Demolition issues in historic districts often attract emotional resistance.

Residents fear change despite obvious benefit to the college and its public outreach—and to the town devoid of a first-class hotel. Its owner would be sensitive to the role played by its National Guard occupants during the war against Nazi Germany. Like armories throughout Maryland, the Chestertown Armory served as a community center. A new hotel could serve the same purpose.

Names like Sergeant First Class John H. Newnam and 1st Sergeant Edward Ringgold Elburn deserve continued respect and remembrance, as they adorn the names, respectively, of the armory and drill floor.

The former Guard armories in Centreville, Denton and Cambridge epitomize repurposing at its creative best. Now the home of Wye River Upper School, the Centreville armory retained the infrastructure while employing thoughtful architecture to embody a school. The redo is impressive.

The Denton armory also converted its interior (except the drill floor ideal for athletics) into space for the Caroline County Department of Recreation. The renovation enabled the armory to remain part of the community. True also of the Centreville structure.

The Cambridge Armory is the site now of the Dorchester District Court.

The nexus between preservation and redevelopment is an imperfect one. It requires compromise. When the good outweighs the bad, then it makes sense. That is true here. 

A fixation in this case on the pervasive mold and its possible remediation ignores the uncertain, if not improbable outcome. The risk is too great for any responsible developer and investors.

And Hersha is determined to preserve the armory’s history. Should the opponents succeed in blocking the project, Chestertown will be the loser. A first-class hotel will exist only as an illusory vision.

The Nike slogan comes to mind. “Just Do It.”

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.