This is controversial: Maybe it’s time to rethink smoke detectors. Let me explain.

On a rainy evening after a long week not long ago, I had just settled down with a carb-heavy dinner and a soothing British period drama when an ominous chirrup shattered the quiet, and along with it any hope of a cozy tranquil night. OH NO! The pitiless call of a needy smoke alarm awoke a stabbing dread in my heart.

Thoughts of fire or suffocating from an unseen noxious gas never entered my mind. No, a far more terrifying fate was in store. My fears were confirmed moments later by another round of staccato chirps and then, even worse, a mocking silence. I sat in a hypervigilant state, heart pounding, pupils dilated, and nerves on edge, frozen in anticipation of the next aural assault, my sense of time kaleidoscoped by the waiting… the waiting… the waiting…

The moments ticked by, just long enough to con my nervous system into lowering its guard. Just as my pulse normalized and my focus returned to the rugged Yorkshire countryside and my warm, cheesy supper, BAM! As inexorable as death and taxes, three more laryngitic bleeps shrieked into the dark with sadistic glee and quieted before I could begin to suss out their point of origin. The source was almost certainly not where it belonged on the ceiling of a hall or bedroom inside the warm, dry house, where I could deal with it in good lighting. Oh no, this hazing ritual would have no such easy fix. How could I be so sure, you ask? Easy: our smoke detectors had long since been hastily dislocated from their proper locations, in incidents involving things like bacon or the fireplace flue.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not comfortable going commando vis a vis smoke detectors. Sparky the Fire Dog is embedded in my earliest neural pathways, so I’m fully aware it’s only a matter of time before we’re engulfed in flames. But life is to be lived, at least until the inferno, and this old world is stressful enough without earsplitting false alarms at breakfast time. Of course we had ripped the smoke detectors from the ceiling at some point, tossing them onto the porch, where the fresh air would make them Shut Up Already. Do I feel good about it? No. Has life been more peaceful since? It absolutely has.

A jilted smoke detector harbors a stunning level of narcissistic cruelty, expressed in a charming safety mechanism, used to demand attention when its battery is dying or it’s otherwise not in good working order. The system is, whenever a unit randomly decides it’s lonely, it emits a triplet of shrill, unignorable BLIPS, like an attention-seeking toddler chanting “Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. MomMomMom. Mom.” Only unlike a toddler, after those three cute but ear-splitting blips, it waits with malicious delight as you stare dumbly at the shards of your peace of mind scattered at your feet. Each chirp is just a fraction of a second long. The ear has no hope of identifying a location. The silent lull that follows is fiendishly timed to last just a few moments more than a human attention span. It’s kind of like playing a really slow game of Hot and Cold, but the only clue is “cold.” Ironically. It’s a system designed for torment.

So it’s a cold and rainy night, dark as a coal mine, and that alarm is getting its revenge. Frantically problem-solving, I get the brilliant idea to time the silent interval, so my echolocation powers can be at the ready for the next set of chirps. This strategy is successful as far as it goes, but it really just confirms that the device is indeed somewhere in the depths of the dark porch. When I try to home in on it, the sound just bounces around, sending me on a series of wild goose chases into damp and cobwebby corners.

“Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!” Move to the other side of the porch. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Shiver. Cold droplets on my neck. Stare at the stopwatch. Wait. Ok… almost time… get ready… Ears on alert. NOW! “Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!” Dammit, it doesn’t sound any closer! Where is it coming from? It’s everywhere! Maybe in this damp cardboard box? Nope, just ancient weatherstripping and a socket wrench in there. Ugh. Ok, three steps in this direction. Wait. Wait. Shiver…

It’s quickly clear that this operation is doomed until daybreak. I resign myself to an evening of torture and, with the benefit of sunlight the next morning, I’m able to find the alarm. Unearthed from the bottom of a pile of old ping pong paddles and someday yard sale items, the unmuffled sound is eardrum-piercing. It chirps on, merry. Intermittent. Ruthless. I can’t just put it out in the trash barrel; it wouldn’t be fair to the neighbors, and is probably not environmentally responsible, so I google desperately for a customer service number. After I refuse to feed my contact info into yet another insidious database, the nice lady on the phone officially recommends that I “wrap it in a towel or something and maybe if you have a garage, put it out there until the battery dies.” FANTASTIC. (I don’t have a garage).

Could I take it to the fire department? Sparky the Fire Dog would definitely arrest me. Also, I’d have to either drive with that infernal noise in my car, or walk down the street carrying it in ignominy. I ruefully wrap the thing in a towel and leave it outside the back door, wishing it a swift and very painful death.

48 hours pass.

Suddenly the alarm SHRIEKS. LOUDER THAN EVER. PROLONGED SIREN-LIKE WAILS. It’s unconscionable, even wrapped in a towel and outdoors on the far side of the house. I fear Chestertonians showing up with pitchforks, so I google “Can you smash smoke detector with a hammer,” only to learn that even wanton violence might not stop the sound.

I try the 800 number again, and this time I get a much more self-assured weekday customer service professional. I’m a hollow husk of a person by now, so I cave and provide my phone number. I will receive spam calls until the end of time. I start to explain my dilemma, but Call Center Guy interrupts, telling me to slide the switch on the back of the device to “off,” as indicated on the back. Shockingly, I had tried that before I called the first time, because I can read and follow directions. CCG wants the model number, so I tiptoe outside to unwrap the alarm from the towel, which has been providing at least some degree of sound absorption. While I worry about my ears bleeding, CCG continues to ask questions. Finally, without his help, I discover that sliding the switch back into the ON position stops the shrieking. Naturally.

In the blessed quiet, CCG’s tone grows even more contemptuous. He says I need to vacuum the dust out of the device, insultingly (if accurately) insinuating that I haven’t kept up with  my proper monthly maintenance. It dawns on me that he’s trying to tell me how to keep this infernal contraption alive even though it’s clearly no longer trustworthy, and also will possibly lead to murder, or suicide, or both. I explain that I absolutely do not want to restore the unit’s ability to chirp. He says, “if you want to disable the alarm [unspoken: you dumb broad], you have to slide the switch all the way under the tab, but then you won’t be able to use it, ever again” [unspoken: you deserve to die in a fire]. “Awesome,” says I, immediately sliding the tab. CCG continues talking at me. I say “Thank you” and hang up.

So I guess we’re currently in violation of the Maryland law requiring smoke alarms with sealed, 10-year batteries on every level of the home, and we have been for a while now (since the last Bacon Incident, probably). I suppose we’ll need to replace the one I disabled and can’t use ever again. But let’s be honest. We’ll surely end up right back on the same merry-go-round. A system to let people know when smoke detectors need attention is a good idea, and I truly appreciate the good intentions behind it. But now that we see how works in the real world, it could maybe use some adjustment. How about coming up with a system for people who occasionally burn their breakfasts and would sprain a wrist trying to vacuum a device attached to the ceiling?

Maria Wood traveled throughout the country as production and tour manager for award-winning musician David Grover, with whom she co-founded a non-profit organization dedicated to enhancing education and fostering positive social change through music and music-making.  She returned to school mid-career, earning a BA in American Studies and a Certificate in Ethnomusicology from Smith College. More recently, she has written and taught on the meaning and impact of the musical Hamilton, served as Deputy Campaign Manager for congressional candidate Jesse Colvin and was Executive Director of Chestertown RiverArts. She lives in a multigenerational human/feline household in Chestertown. 

Their Eyes Speak Louder Than Words

A little over a year ago I took our 16-year-old black lab to be euthanized. Years of chasing a tennis ball coupled with the inevitable ravages of old age resulted in severe arthritis and a steadily diminishing quality of life for her.

Her eyes told us — “It is time.”

I took her on her last ride to the vet, laid on the floor with her, stroked her head, said goodbye, and held her as she painlessly and quietly took her last breath.

After we buried her in our yard (something we have done with every one of our former pets), I said to my wife, “I can hardly stand thinking about this happening again. We now have another hole in our hearts that will never go away. No more dogs beyond keeping our other senior dog.”

Two days later she said, “I have a picture and a story about a dog to share with you.” The picture was of Josie. Her story was she was pushed from a car in Texas and abandoned with eleven unborn puppies. Fortunately, a witness to her predicament took her to an animal shelter. They took her in, but it was made clear that due to overcrowding, she would be euthanized if she was not adopted. My wife said “Look at her eyes. They are silently saying – “I need you and you need me.” She also reminded me that while the holes in our hearts from the loss of all our beloved pets will never go away; they can be made to grow smaller.

Four weeks later, after giving birth to her puppies we brought Josie (now Maisie) to her new home. Prior to then, all her puppies also found new homes.

The rescue organization told us about the rule of three for rescued dogs. They need three days to explore their new surroundings. They need three weeks to get comfortable with those new surroundings. They need three months to settle in. They told us – “Please be patient with her, she has been through a lot.”

When we took Maisie into our home she wandered through and smelled every room. She met our cats and our dog. She even met our ducks in their backyard pen. All the meetings were uneventful. No growling, no chasing, and no fights. It was an indication of things to come. Later that night, Maisie climbed into our bed. When we scratched her ears, she let out a deep sigh and her eyes silently said “I like it here. I want to stay.”

Fast forward to today. She is more than settled in. She has turned out to be the best dog we have ever had, and we have had many great ones. The biggest adjustment was getting her into our truck for rides. Based on her dumping and abandonment experience, she was terrified of getting anywhere near any vehicle. After four months of bribing her with treats and McDonald’s burgers, we succeeded in taking her on short rides that always ended with her safely back home. The results have been heartwarming. She now wants to go EVERYWHERE with us. If we jingle the keys, she comes running from a sound sleep and waits impatiently at the door. Her eyes now “say” — C’mon guys, let’s go. I have places to go, people to see and things to do (mostly watching out the window knowing these rides will end well).

Maisie is a constant reminder of the story about the young boy on an ocean beach picking up stranded starfish and throwing them back into the water. A passerby tells him there are countless stranded starfish on this beach and you cannot make a difference for all of them. As the young boy picks up another one and returns it to the water he says –”Maybe so, but I just made a difference for that one.”

Sadly, there are countless dogs, cats, and other creatures like our Maisie that have been abandoned or given up on through no fault of their own. They need and they deserve good homes. They need someone to make a difference for them.

We hope that in sharing our experience with Maisie; more people will consider rescuing dogs, cats, and other creatures. Yes, they will die. Yes, it is very hard to bear the grief that happens when they do. It has been said some of the best days of your life happen with your pets and only one of the worst days occurs when they die. Their legacies are wonderful memories that with patience, love, and attention they will return deep loyalty and unconditional love.

Their eyes will speak louder than words.

David Reel is a public affairs/public relations consultant who serves as a trusted advisor on strategy, advocacy, and media matters who resides in Easton.

 

 

Landing at Omaha Beach on June 7, 1944 – one day after the historic D-Day invasion of Normandy, France – U.S. Army Captain Jack King was ordered to immediately march his Company inland. Within 48 hours of coming ashore,’ K’ Company was engaged in combat. In a bold move, Captain King – who had enlisted in the Maryland National Guard shortly after his graduation from Princeton in 1940 and was called up to active duty in 1941 – decided to move his troops across a shallow stretch of the Vier River to take control of the German-occupied village of Auville. Control of Auville was important because Captain King and his troops were the “tip the spear” of the U.S. Army regiments coming from Omaha Beach, clearing the way for the U.S troops traveling from Utah Beach and Omaha Beach to join forces, so the Allies could wrest control of Normandy from the Nazis and then push across France into Germany.

With the bridge destroyed, Captain King settled on a risky, but brilliant alternative strategy: Early on the misty morning of June 9, he deployed his 150 remaining troops in a single, horizontal line, crossing the river with their guns blazing, giving enemy troops the impression that a large Allied force was attacking. The ruse worked – the Germans retreated and Auville was relieved of enemy occupation, clearing the way for the U.S troops to join forces. Shot in both legs by machine gun fire, Captain King was among the few American troops (all Marylanders) wounded during the crossing and capture of Auville.

Raised in Baltimore’s historic Bolton Hill as one of three sons and a daughter of a prominent Johns Hopkins Hospital cardiologist, John T. King Jr and his wife, Charlotte. Throughout his youth, Jack King was a voracious reader and strong student who excelled at the Gilman School and graduated from Princeton University in 1940. Along with his personal achievements and his tall, dark and patrician good looks, King was widely appreciated by friends and family for his unfailing modesty and occasionally mischievous sense of humor. 

With World War II looming, levity and mischief were soon left behind and, like many of his peers, Jack King enlisted in the military. King was assigned to the 9th Army, 13th Corps, 29th Division, 175th Infantry. Known as the “Blue and Gray” Regiment or Maryland 5th, the unit traced its origins back to the Maryland/Virginia National Guard Regiment that had formed at the conclusion of the Civil War. By 1943, the 175th had shipped out to England and spent long months in extensive training preparing to invade Europe at Normandy, France.

By October 1944, within five months of his injuries at Auville, Captain King had recovered and was returned to his regiment. By then, the 175th had marched into the province of Brittany in an offensive designed to capture an important Atlantic coast seaport, which was successful. From there, the 175th was deployed to Belgium to support the Allied thrust over the Roer River into Germany. Once again, King’s company was in the thick of the fighting, and his leadership in combat proved to be invaluable. 

After crossing the Rhine in late April, 1945, the 175th’s primary role was to round up and process Nazi soldiers who had been taken prisoner. By early May, they had captured more than 15,000 prisoners. In later years, King recalled that they found this as “an easy task” because the German soldiers preferred surrendering to the Americans rather than being captured by the Soviet Russians.

In September of 1945, now promoted to Major, King returned home to civilian life. While awaiting processing out of the military at Fort Benning (now Fort Moore), Georgia, he met and married Elizabeth (Betty) Plant of Macon, Georgia. Returning to his native Baltimore, Jack and Betty raised their two children, John Holmes King and Elizabeth Leighton King Wheeler. One of his three granddaughters, C. Lee Gordon, and her family have made their home here in Talbot County.

In civilian life, King spent a successful career employed as vice-president and executive assistant to the CEO at the Baltimore Gas & Electric Company, now Constellation Energy. As corporate historian as well as a public relations officer for BG&E, he also served on the boards of numerous area charities and non-profit organizations including the Enoch Pratt Free Library, the Gilman School and the St. Paul’s Girls’ School, Brown Memorial Presbyterian Church, and several area family foundations. 

While King rarely discussed his wartime experiences, the memories lingered. While PTSD was not a recognized diagnosis until after the Korean War, Jack King – a good-humored, lively young man before the War – became more subdued and introspective upon his return from Europe. He would talk about his experiences with his children in the form of humorous, anecdotal bedtime stories. Beyond that, he rarely spoke about The War. 

In his later years, King became less sociable and was haunted more frequently by nightmares about his wartime experiences. Yet, he never complained or made an issue about his wartime experiences. Upon his death in 2001, he was buried with full military honors at Arlington National Cemetery.

For his heroic leadership, Jack King was awarded the Silver Star, the Bronze Star, a Purple Heart, France’s Croix de Guerre, and the British Military Cross. He was one of the most decorated men in the entire Division. One citation read, “King’s aggressiveness and leadership ability under enemy fire, with total disregard for his own safety, were an inspiration to all his troops.” 

A Gilman classmate and friend, Walter Lord (author of A Night to Remember, the best-selling book about the sinking of the Titanic), reflected in a 1994 letter to him that “What you went through must have cost you great pain, but you, and those with you, did an enormous amount for the rest of us.”

While Memorial Day is designed for those who died in the line of duty, it is also an occasion to remember and appreciate the heroic service provided by Jack King and thousands of his fellow members of the “Greatest Generation” who fought valiantly and returned after World War II.

Matt LaMotte, an Eastern Shore native from Kent County, spent his youth between Baltimore, Chestertown and Easton. After college, he delved in the world of finance, raising his two sons while honing his passion for history and lacrosse. He spent two decades teaching and coaching in independent schools across Virginia, New Hampshire and Ohio. In 2018, he headed the History Department at Sts. Peter and Paul High School, Easton, until retirement in 2021. A reformed duck hunter, now bird enthusiast and conservationist, Matt is currently engaged in outdoor education and various affairs.

Kate LaMotte spent the first half of her life in Baltimore and then 10 years in Montclair, New Jersey. In 1996 she moved to Talbot County and raised her two daughters here. She has had a long (and getting longer) career in communications – primarily writing and editing  — in Maryland, New Jersey and the Eastern Shore in service to higher education institutions, nonprofit organizations and presently, UM Shore Regional Health. She also serves on the Board of the Neighborhood Service Center, Inc.

For the first time, Maryland is giving small-scale farmers a similar financial boost for cover crops that larger-scale farmers have enjoyed for years. Starting this year, Maryland Department of Agriculture’s (MDA) Small Acreage Cover Crop Program allows farmers who plant less than five acres of cover crops to receive a reimbursement of up to $1,500 per year for the purchase of cover crop seed. 

At the Chesapeake Bay Foundation (CBF), we applaud MDA for establishing the new program and see it as a model for other states in the Bay watershed. Cover crops are typically cereal grains planted between growing seasons that help improve Bay water quality by trapping pollutants such as nitrogen, improving soil health, and preventing erosion. 

Previously, cover crop benefits were only available to farmers who plant five acres or more of cover crops. The state’s expansion of this benefit highlights an effort to increase equity between small and large farms.  

Small farmers can grow a lot of vegetables on a couple acres of land and the majority of these farmers market directly to local consumers. These smaller farms typically provide local vegetables to communities while implementing Bay-friendly farming practices, including the use of cover crops, no tillage, and organic fertilizers, which assists with Chesapeake Bay cleanup efforts. 

The widespread adoption of regenerative practices among small-scale and urban farms shows how this sector can help to promote environmentally responsible agriculture. 

The new program will also help to address the historical imbalance between small and large farms. Government farm programs are often biased in favor of larger operations, leaving small-scale and urban farms excluded due to eligibility requirements, such as farm size. As a result, more money has gone to supporting large-scale corn and soybean production, which is used mostly as livestock feed, with a small fraction of benefits left to support the smaller vegetable farmers. 

Supporting smaller farms is also an investment in the health of our communities. These farms produce fresh, healthy food near where people live, and reach consumers who may struggle to access fresh food. By increasing local food production, smaller farms can reduce greenhouse gas emissions generated by transporting food. According to a study conducted by the Johns Hopkins Center For A Livable Future, close to 90% of the vegetables eaten in Maryland come from out of state. By supporting local growers, we can reduce this percentage and the carbon footprint of Maryland’s food system.   

CBF encourages farmers who operate small farms to apply for this funding program to improve soil health, farm productivity, and increase their economic bottom line. Small farms help build strong communities, and we commend MDA for their support of this critical program.  

By Isabella Bruno is Chesapeake Bay Foundation’s Maryland Agriculture Equity Project Coordinator 

In modern parlance, “witch hunt” has come to mean the unjust ostracism of an innocent victim. During his reign as president, Mister Trump used the term more than 330 times in defense of accusations of wrongdoing.

On September 25, 2019 he called his impending (first) impeachment trial “the greatest witch hunt in American history.” On January 31 of this year, in a deposition over financial fraud in New York, he called the investigation “the greatest witch hunt ever.” And two days ago, he said of the guilty verdict on charges of sexual assault and defamation brought by Ms. Carroll, that it was a “disgrace…a continuation of the greatest witch hunt of all time.” Thank goodness we have reached the greatest of the great witch hunts, as I don’t think there can be something greater than the greatest of all time.

Are complaints by our Grievance President justified? Is he an innocent victim of unjust political, feminine, and societal persecution?

As president, did he accomplish what he set out to do? Did he Make American Great Again? Did he unite our people so we could better accomplish great things under common purpose, or did he divide us as we have never been divided before?

What does MAGA mean? Doesn’t it mean Make America White Again? Doesn’t it represent resistance to the browning of America and all those foreign invaders?

Why is Trump the favorite of American Nazis, the KKK, antisemites, and other “Christian” white supremacist groups?

Why do farmers like him? Is it because he gave them subsidies for loss sales of grain crops to China, a problem he himself initiated by putting tariffs on Chinese goods? Should he be thought a hero for solving a problem he created?

Why do gun buyers/owners like him? At bottom, isn’t it because of the fear and mistrust of “the other” he reinforced in our society?

Why do the most-wealthy like him? The answer is too obvious to state.

Why is it that his administration saw the greatest turnover of any in history? What does this say about his judgment of “the best people” and what they thought of him? And if they were the best people, what does that say about a leader who cannot retain them? Ask any competent manager of people and she will tell you.

If witch hunts are the search for hypothetically evil people, I offer that we have actually found a real one.

Bob Moores retired from Black & Decker/DeWalt in 1999 after 36 years. He was the Director of Cordless Product Development at the time. He holds a mechanical engineering degree from Johns Hopkins University

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There’s a discussion going on in Congress about the next Farm Bill that could help Maryland farmers. It concerns expanding U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) programs that encourage farmers to adopt conservation practices. Based on my experience with USDA’s Environmental Quality Incentives Program, I think this is an excellent idea.

I grow organic feed and food-grade grains on 420 acres near Salisbury, on the farm where I grew up. I knew that I wanted to farm since I was a teenager. I worked on my family’s conventional grain farm, but it wasn’t possible for me to make it a full-time job. So I farmed a few acres in my off hours and worked in the University of Maryland’s wheat and barley breeding program.

I started transitioning two acres of the farm to organic vegetable production in 2007, when I was still at my day job. I decided to farm organically because I knew it would allow me to earn more money per acre so I could switch to farming full time. Focusing on grain allowed me to eventually take over the rest of the family farm from my dad.

Transitioning from conventional to organic farming can be difficult and costly, especially in the beginning. I was able to make that transition successfully and start farming full time in 2017 with help from the federal Environmental Quality Incentives Program, or EQIP.

Like other federal farm conservation programs, EQIP is entirely voluntary. EQIP provides technical and financial assistance to farmers who to want to adopt conservation practices that promote clean air and water, healthier soil, more resilient land, and better wildlife habitat—and improve their agricultural operations at the same time.

Farming without using pesticides and other chemicals doesn’t just allow me to charge a premium for the organic grain I grow and the organic animal feed I make from it. It is also good for the Chesapeake Bay.

We have a tidal creek running through the farm that goes to the Wicomico River, and ultimately the Bay. I see that water every day and I know that what I do on the farm impacts it directly. I don’t like the thought of nutrients from my farm leaching into that water. Honestly, no farmer wants that.

These days I’m using EQIP to create seven acres of pollinator habitat on marginal land on my farm. I’d also like to use it for a cover crop project that would improve my soil, keep nutrients out of the water, and save money on fertilizer.

I want to interplant a cover crop in my corn fields in mid-August, a month before I harvest the corn. The soil is warm through mid-October so there are lots of microbes actively breaking down nutrients. Instead of letting valuable nutrients like nitrogen and potassium go to waste, planting the cover crop early would allow it to take up more nutrients as it grows and return them to the soil when it dies.

I would end up with healthier soil for my cash crop. I’d also save about $150 to $200 an acre on fertilizer I don’t have to apply. And the cover crop would prevent the soil from eroding and ending up in the creek, the Wicomico River, and the Chesapeake Bay for two more months.

But seeding a cover crop into rows of standing corn requires specialized equipment I can’t afford on my own. And there’s no guarantee that I can secure EQIP funding either. Farm Bill conservation programs are so popular they reject more applications than they accept, according to USDA figures.

Here in Maryland, farmers submitted 790 EQIP applications in 2020. But only 266, or 34 percent, got contracts. The 47 percent average acceptance rate from 2005 to 2020 is more encouraging. But that still means USDA turned away more than half of applications for projects that could have helped Maryland farmers improve their operations and reduce pollution in Maryland waterways and the Bay.

EQIP and other voluntary USDA conservation programs are a win-win proposition for Maryland farmers and the Chesapeake Bay. Many of us have ideas for conservation projects that would do a lot of good. We just can’t always afford to pursue them on our own.

Leaving those projects on the drawing board doesn’t help anyone. Instead of missing out on their benefits, Congress should increase funding for these programs in the Farm Bill it is considering so more farmers can put their conservation ideas into practice.

Aaron Cooper owns and operates Cutfresh Organics farm in Eden, MD.

You’ve probably forgotten about the most recent climate change report because it came out in Olden Times, about three weeks ago. To refresh your memory, it carried the captivating title Synthesis Report of the Sixth Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. From what I could tell, the “About” section is even more boring than the name, but I fell asleep halfway through reading it, so it might pick up toward the end. I recall something about “the assessment report of its three working groups, three special reports, a refinement to the methodology… zzzzzzzzzz…” 

Anyway, as a document, it does not fall short of its predecessors, in either the tone of dire urgency or the pleas for the world to pay attention for Pete’s sake and DO something, already. What I know about IPCC reports is: they seem to come out roughly every other day; they are written by scientists and bureaucrats, and probably scientific bureaucrats; and the message of each one is “EARTH PEOPLE: PLEASE CARE THAT THE PLANET IS BURNING AND LIFE AS WE KNOW CAN NEVER BE THE SAME.” Alas, comedic exaggeration falls flat, because the actual conclusions in the actual IPCC reports are truly dramatic, and yet astoundingly un-hyperbolic.

There is a helpful section called “Headline Statements,” designed for people seeking maximal panic with minimal scrolling, and for news reporters who’ve been given 30 seconds to explain meteorological catastrophe to a semi-attentive audience waiting to board an airplane. 

Skimming bullet points therein, one learns that “Human activities, principally through emissions of greenhouse gases, have unequivocally caused global warming,” a sentence both incredibly dull and frighteningly clear. That word unequivocally shows up so casually in the third clause, hitting you right between the eyes while you’re still groggy from the soothing non-specificity of what came before. 

Moving on, “Widespread and rapid changes in the atmosphere, ocean, cryosphere and biosphere have occurred.” I don’t know what a cryosphere is. I think Walt Disney might live there? But wow, the confidence this statement throws down! Widespread. Rapid. Have occurred.  As the kids say, we’ve um… fudged around with fossil fuels, and now we’re finding out. 

Confidence ratings, italicized and parenthetical, follow every assertion like a Greek chorus for scientist-slash-bureaucrats, the Oceanids of sea level rise, perhaps. “Climate change is a threat to human well-being and planetary health (very high confidence).” “There is a rapidly closing window of opportunity to secure a liveable and sustainable future for all (very high confidence).” “Ocean acidification (virtually certain), ocean deoxygenation (high confidence) and global mean sea level (virtually certain) will continue to increase in the 21st century, at rates dependent on future emissions.”

There’s an awful lot of certainty and confidence around some seriously high-stakes facts throughout this report. Having attended elementary school before the invention of STEM, I can’t claim to understand the technical details of causal linkages between things like emissions, acidification, deoxygenation, and climate change. Not being a magician, I can’t transform the global economy with a snap of my fingers in order to “achieve deep and sustained emissions reductions and secure a liveable and sustainable future for all” (high confidence). 

What I can tell you, though, is that having grown up in, on, and beside the Chester River, it’s plain to see the changes to the water, the land, the flora, and the fauna so abstrusely described by the scientist-slash-bureaucrats. Listen my children, and you shall hear of a time not so very long ago when the river did not encroach upon the land. It’s hard to believe, but High Street in Chestertown did not get its name because high tides regularly covered it. There used to be beaches on the shores of the river. One-hundred year floods only came around once a century or so. Raising houses, docks, and parking lots lest they need to be abandoned is not a time-honored Eastern Shore tradition. Don’t get me wrong, summer has always been hot, but there’s hot and then there’s what we have now. Now we have HOT hot. 

Sober, buttoned down people and institutions like the IPCC have been dialing up the dramatic language about the severity, urgency, and imminence of climate change for a long time, and people really do understand it better than they did even a few years ago. Maybe all these reports have made a difference. Or maybe it’s because it’s gotten so much more visible, so rapidly. It’s especially hard to avoid for those of us living in a place where the line between the water and the land has become more of a suggestion than a border, and where a bigger proportion of the economy is devoted to adaptation, mitigation, and emergency response every year.

I have a semi-obsessive habit of photographing the high tides as they shove the river into places where it really doesn’t belong A few years ago, I would traipse someplace like the foot of High Street or the Centreville Wharf for this purpose, and almost always be alone. If anyone else was around, they simply launched their boat or took their walk, apparently oblivious to the really big, ah… puddle in their way. Last week, however, I felt almost superfluous among the swarm of people documenting the waves washing inexorably over the deck. This is progress. 

Yet every time the IPCC drops a new truth bomb, it scarcely seems to make a splash. No wonder those poor scientists-slash-bureaucrats keep pushing the drama-meter higher. They must feel like they’re screaming into the abyss. It’s another iteration of the polycrisis I’ve written about in the past, but how can regular people possibly be expected to cope with climate change information? The systems are so complex and the changes needed are on such a massive scale, with so much global power and money at stake. We’re just trying to get through the day over here, and “Increased international cooperation including improved access to adequate financial resources, particularly for vulnerable regions, sectors and groups, and inclusive governance and coordinated policies” keeps slipping down the to-do list, below laundry, keeping track of grocery prices, staying updated on covid vaccines, and remembering when the new season of Ted Lasso comes out. 

At moments like these I like to turn to smart organizations and wise friends for real talk, no sugar-coating, perspective, and good advice, so I asked Darran White Tilghman, Director of Community Engagement at ShoreRivers for help. Unlike me, the folks at ShoreRivers do  understand science. They can sort out what individuals need to know and point us toward what we can do. 

Darran’s message helped rouse me from my jargon-induced slumber. She says:

“There is plenty of cause for grief and anger in the latest IPCC report, but it is so important not to give in to despondency and doom. The future isn’t written yet; we are writing it every day. Let’s make the story we write one of stubborn hope and joy. Put that hope into action by planting a native tree or River-Friendly Yard, by insisting that all sectors embrace the climate solutions that already exist, by sharing your love of our waterways and lands with a young person. There is still time to act, and if we act together we will create a shared future we want to inhabit.”

I believe in the truth of this message (very high confidence), and so does the IPCC. Even while dialing up the urgency, the scientists-slash-bureaucrats insist that “multiple, feasible and effective options are available,” and not just that, but that the solutions that will reduce emissions and slow global warming come with side benefits of reducing hunger, reducing poverty, and improving global health and overall societal well-being. Each of us has options for action, and if we come together even in small bands of neighbors or colleagues or friends, we have even more options. Let’s write that future—I’ll see you at the water’s blurry edge.

Maria Wood traveled throughout the country as production and tour manager for award-winning musician David Grover, with whom she co-founded a non-profit organization dedicated to enhancing education and fostering positive social change through music and music-making.  She returned to school mid-career, earning a BA in American Studies and a Certificate in Ethnomusicology from Smith College. More recently, she has written and taught on the meaning and impact of the musical Hamilton, served as Deputy Campaign Manager for congressional candidate Jesse Colvin and was Executive Director of Chestertown RiverArts. She lives in a multigenerational human/feline household in Chestertown. 

Imagine, if you will, the following scenario:

You’ve had a long, frustrating day at work. Your kid’s lacrosse practice ran long, and traffic is at a standstill because of…who knows!

All of which means you have neither the time nor inclination to cook tonight. You just want to call your friendly corner pizzeria and pick up a large pepperoni and a side of wings.

When you call in and place your order, however, you are told that before you can pick up your food and take it home, you must sign a legally binding contract that confirms your acknowledgment of the terms and conditions of the transaction.

For a pizza. That YOU called and ordered.

Sounds too bizarre to be true, right? Even for Maryland, which seems to pride itself at times for its silly laws and regulations that make the easy things so difficult?

Think again. The scenario I just described is on the verge of becoming the law of the land.

At the heart of all this is an important consumer protection law named the Maryland Telephone Solicitations Act. It was adopted years ago to protect Marylanders from being defrauded by predatory telemarketers, who prey largely upon senior citizens and low-to-moderate income consumers. The law, as clearly written and enforced for years, states that that all telephone-based sales must be accompanied by a signed contract when the call is initiated by the seller to the buyer.

This makes sense. It safeguards the consumer from the smooth, fast-talking huckster on the line who serving up that term life insurance deal, or that home security system package, that sounds almost too good to be true. It provides the buyer with one final opportunity to read the fine print before entering into a costly financial obligation.

Enter the Public Service Commission, which regulates our state’s public utilities and retail energy providers. In a case involving an electricity retailer, the PSC unilaterally determined that this law applies in both directions – even when the customer initiated the call.

This radical interpretation of longstanding law would effect not only the energy sector, but every merchant that conducts business over the telephone in the State of Maryland.

The corner pizza parlor. The pharmacy. The auto parts and bicycle repair shops. The independent bookstore. Each of these would now have to invest the time, cost and personnel necessary to execute a signed contract – even in situations when the customer knew the product they wanted and knew exactly where and when to order it.

In a recent court brief, the Maryland Chamber of Commerce and the Maryland Retailers Association foresaw the consequences of such an illogical abuse of law:

“…driving up business expenses, making it more difficult to transact business in Maryland, and creating negative and frustrating customer experiences. It also creates grave uncertainty by calling into question every telephone transaction throughout the years that began with the customer calling the merchant.”

As a local restaurant owner who will celebrate 30 years in business next summer, I can say with absolute certainty that this would have an immediate and devastating effect on my business.

During our three decades on the Cambridge Waterfront, we have fought tooth and nail to survive the 2008 financial crisis, a constant stream of tax hikes, the COVID pandemic, severe worker shortages and disruptions in the national supply chain. Must we also have to contend with the latest harebrained legal theories of an agency that has absolutely nothing to do with my industry in the first place?

There are days when I literally believe it is the goal of certain policymakers to drive every last local business out of our state, taking with them the jobs, business-to-business investment, tax revenue and charitable activity for which they are responsible.

Enough is enough. If this bizarre reading of the Maryland Telephone Solicitations Act becomes the new, accepted law of the land, it will be incumbent upon Governor Moore and the Maryland General Assembly to pass a new, better law that honors its original intent.

Our consumers must be protected from harm. So, too, must our local and independent businesses. These are complementary goals, and our elected leaders may soon have the opportunity to accomplish both by fixing the mess the PSC has created.

Laura Sydnor is the founder and owner of Snapper’s Waterfront Café in Cambridge.

I have always been fascinated by the concept of irony… And in these past few weeks, irony has smacked me in the face more than once. Every new political revelation that surfaces reminds me of events in days gone by. And every new such revelation also reminds me how often America fails to learn from its past. 

In 1994, Kenneth Starr was looking into Whitewater—a real estate controversy involving Hillary and Bill Clinton–a failed investment that cost the Clintons more than $46,000. While doing so, Starr uncovered the whole Monica Lewinsky/Clinton affair and began investigating allegations of sexual harassment and later perjury. Ironically, a current Supreme Court Justice, Brett Kavanaugh, was a deputy on Starr’s team and wrote a portion of the final Starr report which went into excruciating, almost pornographic detail, describing Clinton’s escapades. In an internal memo at that time, Kavanaugh wrote to Starr, “It may not be our job to impose sanctions on him, but it is our job to make his pattern of revolting behavior clear—piece by painful piece.” Ironic, don’t you think, when those chickens came home to roost for Kavanaugh, and later for Trump? Starr’s investigation of Clinton cost more than $52 million and lasted more than four years. It was the most expensive investigation of its kind in American history. 

After his investigation of Clinton, Starr was a hero to fellow Republicans. However, Starr’s “star” fell in 2016 when he resigned his position as chancellor of Baylor University after allegations that he had mishandled a rape case involving football players. Such allegations did not deter Trump from adding Starr to his first impeachment defense team. And there is still more irony when you consider Trump’s many controversial real estate and bankruptcy transactions that were being investigated during that time. Apparently, a decade later, Starr had no problem representing a man with a ledger full of questionable real estate transactions, as well a series of sexual allegations and one rape allegation. 

During Trump’s 2016 campaign, Trump repeatedly chanted “lock her up” referring to Hillary’s email server and missing emails. He also said that if she were elected, we could very well have a president under felony indictment and ultimately involved in a criminal trial. And then Trump and his allies published innumerable stories that Hillary was solely responsible for the deaths at the embassy of Benghazi. Ten investigations were conducted regarding Benghazi. None directly blamed Hillary for the death of four Americans. (Let me also note that during George W. Bush’s presidency, there were 13 attacks on embassies and more than 60 people died. No investigations were held.)

Simultaneously while Trump was maligning Hillary, he was paying off a porn star, a Playboy model, and a door attendant who allegedly knew some tale of a Trump child born out of wedlock. During that time, David Pecker at The National Inquirer agreed to a “catch and kill” scheme financed by Trump in which Pecker would buy stories, pay off people involved to be silent, and either kill the story entirely or hold the story from being printed until after the election. In addition, there are now several investigations involving Fox News knowingly spewing forth false information to sway voters towards Trump. One such case currently underway involves Dominion Voting System’s claim that Fox was amplifying a lie about its voting machines simply to maintain its pro-Trump audience. 

Plus, during that same time, FBI Director James Comey, who also worked on the Whitewater investigation, made the unprecedented move of announcing that he was reopening the investigation regarding Hillary’s treatment of classified documents. His announcement came less than two weeks before the election—a move unprecedented for an ongoing FBI investigation. Comey later described Hillary’s actions as extremely sloppy but not prosecutable. Many believe that Comey’s statements in those final weeks before the 2016 election cost Clinton precious votes.

One cannot help but wonder if only these events had been different—if the Trump stories had been divulged, if Comey had not announced a reopening of an investigation and Trump had lost the election, how different would our society be today? Would we be a more civil and less-polarized society—less likely to be crude, and mean-spirited? How different would the Supreme Court look? Would Roe v. Wade have been overturned? Would we have progressed further in dealing with climate change issues? Would we have continued our tradition of a peaceful transfer of power? And then there is the fact that if Trump had not won, the U.S. would finally have elected a woman President–something long overdue. 

Pro-Trump defenders will say the 34 indictments against Trump represent Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg making mountains out of molehills. It is difficult for that argument to hold water. Many New Yorkers have gone to jail for far less. And couple that with current ongoing investigations involving inciting an insurrection, attempting to overthrow an election in Georgia, the handling of classified documents, lying to lenders and insurers by fraudulently valuing assets, and the E. J. Carroll case that charges Trump with rape—in short, an overwhelming number of pending cases. 

The list of politicians who have been charged with indiscretions is long—Gary Hart, John Edwards, Newt Gingrich, and Bill Clinton come to mind. And the number of screwups are many—think Chris Christie and Bridgegate for one. But it is difficult to come up with another politician who has faced as many credible allegations as Trump. 

Is there anyone out there today who really thinks Trump made America great again? The vitriol, cruelty, overt racism, and juvenile name-calling alone have reduced America’s stature throughout the world. Recovery will take time. Let us hope that Catherine the Great was right when she once said, “I beg you take courage; the brave soul can mend even disaster.” 

Maria Grant was principal-in-charge of a federal human capital practice at an international consulting firm. While on the Eastern Shore, she focuses on writing, reading, gardening, piano, and nature.