When Erwin Chemerinsky, dean of the Berkeley School of Law and a strong advocate of free speech, invited sixty graduating students to his home, one of them rewarded his and his wife’s kindness with appalling behavior. Using her own microphone in Chemerinsky’s backyard to plead the plight of Palestinians, she and ten other students showed utter disregard for the dean’s hospitality.

I repeat: the dinner, along with two others for the graduating students, was at the dean’s home in his backyard.

Beware of immature guests with antagonistic agendas.

As I wrote this column, I became angrier and angrier. The protesting students cared little about others. Only their cause mattered. They used their perception of free speech as a cudgel.

Chemerinsky had some warning about the pathetic protesters. They employed antisemitism in creating a widely circulated poster that portrayed the dean, a Jew, holding a bloody fork and knife, with blood around his lips, and this despicable language:

“‘No dinner with Zionist Chem while Gaza starves.’”

Jews have long withstood antisemitic accusations of “blood libel.” The trope characterizes Jews as killing Christians to harvest their blood for religious rituals. This ugly libel has spread its poison for thousands of years.

Typical of his being a learned constitutional law scholar, Chemerinsky sublimated his deep hurt and characterized the horrific posters as legally permissible under the First Amendment.

Think about that. A person subjected to antisemitism justified its protection under the American privilege of free speech. Even if it stings your soul and frays your sense of decorum.

I commend the dean for his reaction to the pernicious poster. And his wife’s and his vigorous defense of the sanctity of his home. The protesting students exhibited an arrogant disregard for their hosts. They selfishly ruined a joyous occasion.

In a heartfelt statement to the Berkeley community, Chemerinsky wrote, “I have spent my career staunchly defending freedom of speech. I have spent my years as a dean trying to create a warm, inclusive community. I am deeply saddened by these events and take solace that it is just a small number of our students who would behave in such an inappropriate manner.”

As repulsed as I am by the appalling behavior of a small cadre of law school students, I felt pleased by the bold action taken last Wednesday by Columbia University’s president, Menat Shafik, to ask the New York Police Department (NYPD) to clear and remove a tent city set up by roughly 100 students protesting Israel’s treatment of Palestinians. They were arrested for trespassing and disorderly conduct.

While critics will disparage the punitive actions taken by Columbia’s president as violating free speech, I believe that the 100-plus protesters were interfering with academic freedom deserved by thousands of their fellow students. Like their disruptive counterparts at Berkeley, they exhibited no regard for the Columbia community.

In the 1960s, during the public outrage over the Vietnam War, Columbia University was a hotbed of unrest and protests. Students occupied the administrative building. Anarchy afflicted campuses throughout the country.

Maybe it is my age. Maybe it is my sense of fairness. Maybe it is my belief in accountability for illegal or unethical transgressions.

That said, university presidents such as Columbia’s leader should listen to their students. Though they often are the tip of the spear in identifying critical social issues, they cannot feel free to disrupt a university catering to all students, not just a few.

Free speech is an inviolate American right. A fervent defender of free expression, Dean Chemerinsky and his wife endured the unconscionable violation of their private property. Their kindness as hosts meant nothing to a small group of pro-Palestinian law school students. Their inconsiderate conduct was shameful.

 Finally, I applaud the bold but difficult decision by Columbia’s President Shafik to enlist the NYPD to arrest students for trespassing and disorderly conduct. She rightfully protected precious academic space. I bemoan that the protests continued over the past weekend and then erupted at Yale. Disheartening. Dr. Shafik did not request the NYPD due, I suspect, to criticism for stifling free speech. Would this adolescent exhibition of passion for the Palestinians have occurred during finals?

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.

One event represented a divided country, resulting in the bloodiest one-day battle ever carried out on American terrain. This Civil War action had favorable consequences for the Union cause based upon a pivotal decision by President Lincoln.

The other occasion unified a polarized nation for two hours. Conversation and attention focused on a celestial phenomenon. It drew childlike wonder, not wretched political contention.

Last week, my wife and I spent two days in Hagerstown to watch the eclipse on Monday afternoon, April 8, in its totality path. We sat on the lawn of a lovely inn where we spent two nights. The sun-moon dance, spontaneously choreographed, was an
unforgettable spectacle.

Media reports portrayed the eclipse as a unifying event in a country riddled with political division and contention. That is probably correct—though we were not wearing rose-colored glasses.

We will not be around for the next total eclipse in 2045 in the United States.

Equipped with special glasses sold by the global Amazon empire, as well as my iPhone 13 and its camera, I proceeded to watch the darkening of the sun by the passing moon. At the end of an hour, the sun, as viewed by my aging eyes, looked like a single quotation mark. The moon’s passage was undeniable.

Left hanging by my focus on the eclipse, readers may wonder about my lede paragraph. Civil War devotees know fully well about the Battle of Antietam, known to Confederate soldiers as the Battle of Sharpsburg. It was the bloodiest one-day battle in the Civil War.

It also precipitated Lincoln’s release of the Emancipation Proclamation. This document decreed that all enslaved people in the Confederacy were free.

Thus, it crystallized the military mission. It enabled enslaved people to join the Union’s fight against the rebellious southern states. It discouraged Britain and France from supporting the secessionist states.

On September 17, 1862, roughly 23,000 U.S. Army and Confederate soldiers were killed, wounded or missing at Antietam. General Robert E. Lee’s forces withdrew.

Fought on lovely, rolling farm fields outside Hagerstown in Washington County, the Battle of Antietam was a dark and dreadful confrontation. It symbolized the lack of political sunshine between the northern and southern parts of our country.

War was an unfortunate solution to longstanding enmity between the industrial north and agricultural south. Civility was eclipsed by immovable perspectives on slavery.

Our morning visit to the Antietam battle site was a sobering experience. It shadowed my impression of the astronomical phenomenon later in the day. Our world, now and past, always offers contradictory experiences and viewpoints.

To fully appreciate and record the eclipse, I shot numerous pictures of the eclipse with my dependable but limited IPhone. My photography was analogous to whistling in the wind. My output included wonderful (maybe not) shots of the sun and clouds.

Any movement of the moon was sorely lacking in my picture-talking. My effort was ridiculous but necessary to satisfy my restless soul.

When the moon did cover the sun, the effect in Hagerstown was comparable to a sudden burst of cloudiness. In Buffalo, NY, darkness did materialize, so I was told.

A celestial happening and human destruction are distinctly different but connected by a sense of wonder.

Devoid of any human control, an eclipse captures our fascination, as do stars like Mars and Jupiter. The unknown pierces our indifference to all but our nourishment by the sun and our addiction to moonlight.

A battlefield, however sedate and peaceful as a relic of the past, summons our wonder about the terror of war. Why are wars so tied to the human condition? Why must we fight and kill? Do the results justify the inevitable death, maiming, and psychological damage?

It is rather late in this essay to raise these long-debated and troubling questions. I have no answers. I simply wonder.

As I do about a sky inhabited by stars—and man’s continued quest for scientific knowledge about the “way beyond”— I bemoan our human appetite for war.

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.

Ever since my family settled in its first home in Talbot County on Pleasant Street in Oxford in 1976, I have always loved Oxford and its friendly folks. Its village feel was intoxicating.

I have always understood that small towns face the same infrastructure and zoning issues as larger jurisdictions, with smaller staff.

After watching Scott Rensberger’s superbly produced and well-researched opinion video shared on the Spy, I am disappointed in Oxford’s leadership. But I am hopeful.

I urge town leaders to wake up and smell the fragrance of transparency and communication. And as former Gov. and Baltimore Mayor William Donald Schaefer was wont to say, “Do It Now.”

It serves no useful purpose to wallow in self-imposed silence and self-pity. The town’s human environment will only get uglier.

At a regular town meeting, invite the 600-plus residents and disclose what is now considered non-disclosable. It will hurt a little. Then the air will clear. Follow the lead of other towns and cities.

Reveal the town manager’s salary. Avoid real or perceived conflict of interest. While I understand that concerned and capable town commissioners feel under siege, please escape your isolation and talk openly with town residents.

Scott Rensberger is not an enemy. The Spy is not out to disparage Oxford. Lack of communication is injurious to the town and its inherent goodness.

Though an overused term, transparency engenders trust and credibility. It improves the relationship between a government and its citizens.

Recriminations accomplish nothing. Defensiveness counters healthy communication. Hurt feelings can be healed with human dialogue and trust.

Pull down the ramparts and open an honorable discourse with residents. Ugliness needs to find another home. Trust underscores good government.

“Do It Now.” Waiting only worsens the sense of acrimony. Restoration of grace and comity is not only wholly possible but urgently imperative.

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.

Compromise, a dirty word in the U.S. House of Representatives and Senate, looks entirely different in Maryland’s General Assembly. Last week, as time was running out in the annual 90-day session, which adjourned yesterday at 12 midnight, the House of Delegates and the State Senate agreed on a $63 billion budget.

Since both chambers are heavily Democratic, it would be easy to assume that compromise is no big deal. That would be wrong.

Contention characterized the conference negotiations in the days leading up to the agreement. That scenario is not surprising. I have seen it play out for at least 50 years during my time as a close observer of practical democracy in the corridors of legislative power in our state capital.

The 141-person House of Delegates is typically more progressive than its neighbor across the marble hallway in the State House. It comprises large numbers of liberal politicians from Montgomery and Prince George’s counties, as well as Baltimore City. With forty-seven members, representing proportionally more rural areas, the Senate is a more conservative body.

Enough about the ways and byways of state politics. The bottom line is what matters to our state’s 6.2 million residents.

The state is dealing with a deep $3 billion deficit. While the State Senate was determined to avoid any additional fees and taxes during the 2024 session, the House wanted to plug the hole as soon as possible. Though just as unwilling as anyone else to pay increased taxes and fees, I endorsed the House position. I thought it fiscally wise to diminish the deficit expediently before it grows larger.

To increase funding for the cash-strapped Transportation Trust Fund for road and transit projects, while at the same time boosting spending on education, Shock Trauma and emergency services—beginning July 1– the two chambers agreed to raise $250 million in new revenue; up to $350 million within three years for transportation and up to $90 million for education. 

The approved budget has been sent (as of April 5) to Gov. Moore, who will surely sign it.

We will pay the price through increased taxes on tobacco products and higher fees on vehicles. Though fortunately I do not smoke, I do drive a small SUV weighing 4,100 pounds. I currently pay $135 for a two-year registration. Now, I will pay at least $92 more.

As noted, I support the amended budget. The increased fees are annoyingly necessary. Motorists, including commuters, rely on usable roads and transit alternatives. The state’s economic posture, targeted at new and existing businesses, academic institutions and, happily, the new FBI headquarters in Greenbelt, must offer well-maintained and expanded roads for the benefit of our citizens.

Budget matters may seem boring and easily ignored. A number like $63 billion is hard to comprehend. Then, the consequences become eye-opening and personal when the pesky Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) sends us unwanted mail seeking larger fees. We wonder: why is the DMV dunning us?

Is there any good news in government snail mail?

At the risk of being a scold, I always urge readers to pay attention to the often-Byzantine machinations of the Maryland General Assembly. Its decisions, normally thoughtful and deliberative ones, affect all of us in some way. We cannot escape the “pocketbook” results.

I applaud the compromise. I cheer the deficit-fighting measures. I support the sense of urgency by the House of Delegates. And I empathize with state residents facing the increased financial burden imposed by the 2024 legislature.

Citizens have the unassailable right to demand fiscal prudence from their legislators and the governor. Increased taxes and fees are acceptable only if the public believes that its elected officials are intent on government efficiency and responsible management.

I have more faith in our state government than I do in our chaotic federal legislature. Still, vigilance is important.

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.

This is a story about an opportunity to spread the word about Blacks of the Chesapeake. Up to recently, that story went untold or ignored. Segregation forced resilience and resentment upon African Americans excluded from equal opportunity due to their skin color.

In the fall of 2022, the door to a wonderful musical history created by an enterprising Black Baltimore businessperson opened for residents of the Chesapeake Bay region to learn and appreciate. “Wow” would be the right reaction, as it was for me and continues to be.

The ugly past in the neighborhood where my wife and I live in Annapolis jostled my sensibilities. Like many White folks, I understood that the present and future were free in many ways from the miserable restrictions imposed on Blacks, so common to life in America,

As I have previously written, Carr’s and Sparrow’s beaches fronting the Chesapeake Bay provided a recreational respite for Black families from Baltimore, Philadelphia and Washington, DC. in the 1940s through the early 1960s. They could go nowhere else. They confronted limited options to relax and recreate.

Thanks to the enterprising Willie “Little Willie” Adams, who parlayed a fortune fueled by controlling the illegal numbers racket in Baltimore (now the State Lottery) into legitimate businesses, bought 180 acres in 1948–including Carr’s, Sparrow and Elktonia beaches on the Annapolis Peninsula. He then developed a renowned summer musical venue that drew super-talented artists like James Brown, Ella Fitzgerald, Stevie Wonder, Cab Calloway, the Temptations, Ike and Tina, the Shirelles, Little Richard, the Drifters and Billie Holliday.

The sounds of these incredible performers permeated my adolescence.

When I visited a good friend at Washington and Lee University in Lexington, Va. during my college years, I watched the unforgettable and incomparable James Brown, the “King of Soul.” I was mesmerized. Brown thrilled audiences with his physical energy and vocal talent.

Until congressional enactment of the Civil Rights Act in 1964, Carr’s Beach throbbed on summer Sunday evenings with dance-till-you-drop music. The performers could not perform in Whites-only locations on the East Coast.

Jim Crow discrimination placed awful obstacles in front of African American athletes, performers, businesspersons, educators, doctors, and nurses. Fortunately, the Civil Rights Act of 1964 brought change. Carr’s Beach musicians took their musical gifts to venues formerly closed to them.

The Annapolis Peninsula became a quiet residential community.

Carr’s and Sparrow beaches are now the sites of, respectively, of a large and expensive apartment complex and an Anne Arundel County sewage treatment plant. The BayWoods of Annapolis retirement community, where, as readers know, my wife and I live, sits on part of Elktonia Beach.

Musical artistry is in the past. But history has staying power.

Within the past few years, a five-acre parcel on Elktonia/Carr’s Beach was saved from forty-three townhomes and converted into the Annapolis Heritage Park. Recently the Moore Property, overlooking the Bay on Elktonia Beach, was purchased by the city for use eventually as the headquarters of Blacks of the Chesapeake Foundation, a nonprofit focused on telling unknown and unheralded stories about Black residents of the eastern and western shores.

The Moore parcel, which includes a now dilapidated cottage, was owned by the late Dr. Paulett Moore, the second president of Coppin State University. Its new use will provide an educational purpose as a visitors center.

Annapolis Peninsula contains two upscale boatyards and middle-income housing. It is difficult but not impossible to envision the popularity of Bay front beaches and world-class music. The dreadful days of Jim Crow discrimination are gone but not forgotten.

Little Willie Adams was a widely known entrepreneur in Maryland. He also was something else: a social visionary who offered opportunity for family recreation and musical artistry that transformed the lives of African American visitors.

I likely would not have felt welcomed on Carr’s and Sparrow’s beaches. Nonetheless, I find the history pleasurable to know and understand. Progress happens slowly.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

A friend recently asked if I thought that former Gov. Larry Hogan could win the U.S. Senate race against either Prince George’s County Executive Angela Alsobrooks or Congressperson David Trone (D, 6th).

My immediate reaction: absolutely.

A recent poll conducted by the University of Maryland and the Washington Post showed Hogan with a 20-point lead over the two Democrats. The same poll showed respondents, by a 20-point margin, favoring Democrat control of the Senate.

I, too, am keenly committed to Democratic control over the Senate; the alternative is an unpleasant one to me.

Democratic control over the Senate is a necessity for me. Republican dominance has produced three conservative Supreme Court justices, much to the detriment of judicial balance. At times, the 6-3 majority projects the impression that the Supreme Court is simply a branch of the right-wing Republican Party.

The two failed impeachment trials of the reprehensible Donald Trump illustrated the skewed power of the Senate. Facts did not matter to Republican senators. They only wanted to protect the Jan. 21, 2021, instigator. They forgot their original outage at the attack on our nation’s capital and democracy. They chose to downplay an un-American raid on the U.S. Capitol,

Shame on the spineless Republicans.

Moderate senators like Susan Collins, Lisa Murkowski and Mitt Romney have voices, but no sway. Their distaste for Trump matters not to their GOP colleagues. They are lonely voices in the political wilderness. They endure scathing criticism from the ex-president, who cares little about moderation in thought or manner.

Introduce former Gov. Hogan to the clubby Senate—and Lord knows if he would retain his independence. He would be playing on a different field where moderation is secondary to extremism. His aversion to engaging in culture wars may not last.

Flamethrowers like Ted Cruz of Texas dominate the Senate. Their behavior and commentary are equally obnoxious. Ambition trumps character.

I have said it before: I like Larry Hogan. In fact, I voted for him when he ran for re-election. I applaud his independence, particularly his disdain for the ex-president. He cared little about criticism from extremists or even Trump.

He expected incoming fire. It did not bother him.

But the U.S. Senate is different terrain than the Maryland State House. He would be expected to vote with the party; leadership might tolerate some dissension, but not much.

Persuaded by the powerful minority leader, Mitch McConnell (R, KY), to run for the seat to be vacated by Sen. Ben Cardin, Hogan will likely be the recipient of huge sums of money from the Republican Senate Campaign Committee. McConnell will solicit deep-pocketed PACs to donate to Hogan.

Hogan is a strong campaigner. He speaks plainly. He seems comfortable at campaign events. He is well-organized. He is likable.

Control of the Senate is my line in the sand. Therefore, I cannot vote for Gov. Hogan. I will watch his campaign and poll numbers with intense interest.

Beware, Democrats and Independents, of the very real possibility that Larry Hogan is a formidable candidate who could win. He has far more name recognition than the Alsobrooks and Trone. That may change, as my Spy colleagues, Craig Fuller and Al From, said last Thursday during their weekly conversation.

However, it is important to understand that Alsobrooks and Trone are known politicians in the two largest voting jurisdictions, Prince George’s and Montgomery counties, in the state. Democrats have triumphed in statewide races by winning one or both of these counties and Baltimore City.

Still, Hogan will run a tough, well-funded campaign. He savors political combat.

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.

Just as the daffodils have blossomed, so has a relationship developed between a 90-year-old woman and an 82-year-old man here at our BayWoods of Annapolis retirement community.

Though amused, I am not surprised. I am pleased for my fellow residents. The 171 independent living residents at this Bay front village are senior citizens with young souls disguised by aged bodies and visages.

What gives me pause is the chatter, typical of a small enclave where residents are constantly assessing the health and well-being of their neighbors and friends. It is a cultural phenomenon in a retirement community where your paths cross repeatedly with your fellow travelers.

A BayWoods friend characterized the newly emerging romance—and the consequent talk as reminiscent of high school. She is right.

To be clear, I well realize that seniors frequently seek the companionship of adults whom they have known for years. That was true of my late father, who after my mother died at 73, had a relationship with a former neighbor in a community where we had lived. I felt glad for him; she was attentive to him and he to her.

My father always loved eating in restaurants, be it lunch and/or dinner. Like his youngest son (this writer), he rarely cooked. My mother was highly skilled in preparing meals. So, after my mother died far too young, he found a woman to enjoy meals outside the home. His loneliness quotient was exceptionally low.

Recently, my wife and I had dinner with a BayWoods couple in their eighties who have been married seven years. The woman had been married 59 years and the man 46 years before their respective spouses died. The couples had been best friends. The gentlemen had spent most of their careers together in the Secret Service.

The one-digit relative newlyweds seemed happy (a quaint observation). They spoke warmly about their former mates. They considered their coupling natural.

Apart from physical and emotional attraction, senior citizens grieving the painful loss of cherished spouses welcome relief from loneliness, a hidden disease cured only by another meaningful relationship.

Loneliness does not easily disappear.

It is a hangover that outlasts aspirin, sleep, and distraction. It colors your perspective on life in dark gray tones.

Children and grandchildren provide spark and spontaneity. Then they move on to their busy lives. They cannot fill a vacuum created by the death of their parent’s presumably best friend and trusted confidant.

Loneliness can bring depression and addiction; alcoholism is a common malady. Suicide is another awful reaction to being alone. Physical effects include heart disease, strokes, hypertension and cancer.

Loneliness is curable. The common denominator is determined effort. Mind you, I base my opinion on watching and learning. A persistent quest for friendship through diving into activities helps dissipate loneliness and grief.

A physical move from a longtime house or apartment can mitigate the memories.

While still mourning the death nearly a year ago of her dear companion, a friend is still struggling to cope with the loss. She laughs and smiles less. She is emotionally low. But she has thrust herself into activities, albeit on the sidelines. Nonetheless, she is summoning the energy and grit to acknowledge, but not wallow in her grief.

To state the obvious, contentment has no timeline. Senior citizens are as open to happiness—and, yes, love—as people more their half their age.

Ben Franklin, one of our country’s founders known for living life fully, said “Those who love deeply never grow old, they may die of old age, but they die young.” My hero, Dr. Franklin, spouted wisdom for the ages.

Love is commonplace among those residing in their “advanced years.” As it should be.

Columnist Howard Freedlander retired in 2011 as Deputy State Treasurer of the State of Maryland. Previously, he was the executive officer of the Maryland National Guard. He also served as community editor for Chesapeake Publishing, lastly at the Queen Anne’s Record-Observer. After 44 years in Easton, Howard and his wife, Liz, moved in November 2020 to Annapolis, where they live with Toby, a King Charles Cavalier Spaniel who has no regal bearing, just a mellow, enticing disposition.

In recent weeks, my Spy columns have celebrated a “Ritchie Boy” who used his linguistic and cultural skills as a German Jewish immigrant to excel as an intelligence operative during World War II—and a legendary University of Maryland basketball coach who coached and mentored young men and developed an acclaimed, winning program.

Both of these gentlemen achieved success by focusing selflessly on their missions.

Both of these columns were easy to write. The subjects were honorable men. One was a likable showman.

They sought a cause greater than they: one in war to proclaim the preciousness of freedom, the other in the competitive sports world in pursuit of ethical victory.

So, you may ask where I am taking this week’s narrative? I am looking at the presumptive Republican nominee for U.S. President and dreading the possibility he might win.

The thought sickens me. He serves no cause other than himself. Should he win a contest against President Joe Biden, our nation will be engulfed in disabling chaos and corruption.

I fear for our democracy. A wannable autocrat who has admitted he will seek vengeance on his enemies immediately upon entering the White House, will be occupying the White House.

Evidence of his horrendous behavior and decision-making process lies in many accounts of his one-term presidency by close advisers. His former chief staff, General John Kelly, said, ‘”A person who thinks those who defend their country in uniform, or are shot down or seriously wounded in combat, or spend years being tortured as POWs are ‘suckers’ because ‘there is nothing in it for them,’” Kelly characterized Trump. ‘” A person that did not want to be seen in the presence of military amputees because it does not look too good.’

These remarks portray a person who lacks empathy. His leadership skills lack humanity.

Some readers will claim that I am continuing to slam a man, who despite his character flaws and unfitness for the White House, has pleased his supporters with anti-immigrant bombast, isolationism and victimhood. 

He named three conservatives to the Supreme Court. He passed a tax bill favorable to the rich.

And these pro-Trump Spy devotees would be right. He did enthrall the GOP Peanut Gallery.

On the other heavy hand, the ex-president incited a violent riot against the Capitol to obstruct a legitimate election. He watched the capital under siege by misguided Trump acolytes. Also, he faces ninety-one felony charges in state and federal courts for obstructing an election, tax fraud and a payoff to a porn star.

Shrewdly, he has used his legal entanglements to solicit pity and raise enormous amounts of money to pay attorneys. Though he does not question the charges, he has posited—typically without proof– that President Biden engineered the accusations.

Of course, he has deflected fault. He is a shameless billionaire and former president who rarely, if ever, accepts responsibility. The pattern is always the same: assault your opponents—including the judiciary—with verbal abuse as a form of intimidation.

Trump is drawn to violence and confrontation. He characterizes and demonizes opponents with childish name-calling; he hardly bothers to argue policy. It is easier for him to attack his adversaries with fallacious statements that have no connection to the truth.

As he did on Jan. 6, 2021, he opts for violence. He perceives himself as an American despot. Russia’s president, Vladimir Putin, is his role model. 

Though a small-time pundit, I believe I would be condoning Trump’s dangerous candidacy should I remain silent. I support Joe Biden because I respect his policy chops, his decency, his devotion to democracy and his achievements. 

To support Biden, I need not subjugate my values and accept a pernicious person as leader of the Free World. 

What is particularly galling is the prospect of civil disobedience, whether Trump wins or loses. Imagine that fear. As they demonstrated on Jan. 6, the ex-president’s supporters are unpredictable, prone to illegal behavior. Their loyalty to a deranged politician is unquestioned.

When I think about Guy Stern, the German Jew who supported American forces with keen intelligence gathering and analysis, and the crafty Charles “Lefty” Driesell, the mastermind behind the resurgence of University of Maryland basketball in the 1970s and first part of the 1980s—I see honorable men driven to success. 

Trump’s role models are ruthless autocrats. He surrounds himself with irreputable people. Laws are made to be broken. The U.S. Constitution has no meaning to him.

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.

Charles “Lefty” Driesel was a legendary basketball coach at the University of Maryland, drawing statewide interest in, and acclaim for a sport that needed a spark. He ignited a flame that swept Marylanders under his spell.

His death nearly 2-1/2 weeks ago at age 92 inspired memories of the 1970s and 1980s, a time when Driesel’s personality dominated the court and drove his teams to success. During his 17 years at Maryland, his teams won 348 games.

He was a colorful figure. When his team was on the floor in Cole Field House, so was he. He seemed bigger than life. He galvanized the students and alumni. He energized Terp fans throughout the state.

Until Driesell came along, I rarely paid attention to UM teams, except maybe the lacrosse program. That changed when, armed with a Southern drawl and down-home manner, Driesell arrived in College Park, developed winning teams and packed the basketball emporium.

He was a master tactician and motivator. He was a taskmaster. His recruiting style charmed—and persuaded—families to send their sons to Maryland’s flagship university.

When he arrived in College Park, Maryland had endured three consecutive losing seasons. He changed the calculus. Excitement became commonplace. So did victories.

His teams, comprising stars like Len Elmore, Buck Williams and Tom McMillen, won consistently. However, they never won a national title. Top teams like the University of North Carolina, coached by the legendary Dean Smith, typically overmatched the aggressive Terps.

The unfortunate demise of Driesell’s career in College Park came quickly after the cocaine-induced death in 1986 of Len Bias, a superstar drafted number one by the Boston Celtics. The chancellor of the University of Maryland had already become concerned about the academic performance of Driesell’s hoopsters. Chancellor John Slaughter pressured the charismatic coach to resign.

An era ended with a sad thump. The celebrated coach left the house and disappointed fans.

Driesell eventually coached successfully at James Madison University and Georgia State. However, he had lost the stage that captivated fans for 17 years at the now-defunct Cole Field House. 

His enticing showmanship would emerge as he would enter the court to the strains of “Hail to the Chief,” holding both hands up, with two fingers extended with the V for victory sign. It became an unforgettable memory.

Players like Elmore, who went on to Harvard Law School after playing in the NBA, and McMillen, who too played in the NBA, was a Rhodes Scholar and a congressperson, revered their hard-driving coach. They understood his will to win, to eschew mediocrity and support his athletes.

Driesell was not a tragic figure. He fell victim to a drug scourge that killed a bright star. Also, academic expectations had changed. For the better. 

He deserved more acclaim, which came his way late in life.

In 2018, at the age of eighty-six, he finally gained entry to the renowned Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. His former players advocated for his well-deserved and long-overdue selection. 

The Len Bias shadow, though still real and regrettable, had diminished, though not forgotten.

As noted, Lefty Driesell awakened non-University of Maryland alumni to the thrill of watching Atlantic Coast Conference basketball at its best. The athletes were in many cases future NBA standouts. Guided by a first-rate coach and mentor, the Terps became a fearsome team. 

Lefty became a legend. He brought the Terps to new heights.

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.