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.

 

The Bible has taken on several colloquial narrative uses. As in “Bible-thumping” politicians or the “Bible Belt”, or as a personal basis of truth and conviction, exemplified by “I swear on a stack of bibles.”

In many cases, but not all, the George Washington Inaugural Bible is used in the secular swearing-in of our presidents. That’s an inescapable image in my mind. The hope, understandably, is that a beneficent and wise God will serve as a presence in domestic and international affairs.

God requires no special invitation to attend a presidential inauguration. 

In deadly combat, the Bible serves another purpose. It is carried into battle, providing a spiritual weapon for soldiers thrust into the sporadic outburst of weaponry that spares no one.

A Bible-bearing American combatant may believe that the most sacred book provides a link to God and hence survival. It also represents a family connection if given as a gift.

Philosophers can argue whether God chooses sides based upon the motivation and purpose bolstering each opposing force in a war. I hark back to the epic film about George Patton, who felt no compunction to ask his chaplain to pray for clear weather and favorable conditions for his military units to advance and triumph, as they did in this cinematic instance during the Battle of the Bulge.

In Patton’s mind, the initially stunned chaplain enjoyed a direct connection to God. The weather cleared.

Patton delegated successfully. After all, the daring and cocky general was simply using the chain of command. And he believed that God was on the

side of goodness—and U.S. armor forces led by the charismatic and daring George Patton.

What motivated me to write about the Bible? My biblical familiarity is shallow, I must admit. Nonetheless, I well understand its singular importance as a book that overrides any compilation of must-read books.

Bibles often are passed down through generations of families. Its value is inestimable, withstanding the multiple moves of American citizens.

Occupying a special place in my wife’s heart is a Bible given to her late father in 1938 when he was 12 and confirmed by a beloved Presbyterian minister in Baltimore. The Bible bears a wonderfully warm inscription from the minister.

My father-in-law would read the Bible story about the birth of Christ every year on Christmas Eve, originally to his children and then his grandchildren. Frenetic activity would cease. A special, solemn overtone permeated the room.

As a newcomer to the family, I understood that the Bible reading by my wife’s dad was a necessary part of the holiday ritual.

Recently, I read about a Bible borne by a 29th Infantry Division soldier killed as part of the first wave of troops that stormed Omaha Beach on D-Day, June 6, 1944. A fellow soldier had found the Bible, which had fallen out of the victim’s assault vest, and sent it with a letter to Raymond Hoback’s parents in Bedford, Va. They had given the Bible to Raymond in Christmas 1938. He and his brother Bedford were both killed during the deadly D-Day invasion, as were 18 others from the small town of Bedford.

The Bible had remained in the Hoback farmhouse, enshrined by the mother. Just recently, the Hoback brothers’ sister donated the Bible to the National D-Day Memorial in Bedford. More young men were killed per capita in this southwest Virginia town than any other in the United States.

The Bible is more than a best-selling book. It symbolizes faith in God. It offers lessons learned in coping with life. It underscores humanity and kindness.

It can provide a link between someone in distress and God. And an attachment to the giver of the Bible and the grateful recipient. Ties that bind for a lifetime.

In the case of Raymond Hoback, engaging in the greatest amphibious invasion in military history, it offered hope amid the chaos and killing on bloody Omaha Beach. After his death, it offered solace, as well as an acute sense of loss to his bereaved family.

Raymond sought God. So did his family.

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.

 

Pundits have bemoaned the state of American democracy, as have academics and citizens disappointed in our political leaders. Doom and gloom are prevalent throughout our sadly disruptive and disparate society.

Despite my innate optimism, I too feel depressed (not clinically) by our instability. Covid was an invasive disease. We lived differently. Now we live dislodged from any sense of compromise and comity.

It seems like an upsetting dream that recurs. Relief is a distant reality. Sleep aids are ineffective. Strong feelings prompt arguments. The normal give-and-take is fraught. Friendships become frayed.

Allow me to offer my concept of democracy, as illustrated by a list of phrases that I believe requires no embellishment and only slight commentary. Were I offering this litany as a test, I would posit that it leaves no room for multiple choice; instead, it is incontrovertible (in my humble opinion).

Compromise–foreign concept these days, sadly so

Selfless public service–rare, too, in favor of media attention

Courage–in short supply as public officials fear the extremes of their parties.

Respect, regardless of party–severely diminished

Ethical behavior–glue that binds a working democracy

Media not the enemy–vital, though pesky, for accountability on every level of government

Public engagement–absolutely mandatory for positive policy

Willingness to admit error–contrary to current political ethos

Reduced dependence on money–far too dominant now

Grace under pressure–victory can be elusive 

Constitutional knowledge–critical to governing and public service

Honest communication–essential for public support, without ineffective spin

Competent leadership–owed to constituents on consistent basis

Good people in the mix–unworkable without them

Tolerance–vital element of communal cohesion

Civility—aides and abets productive dialogue, poisonous otherwise

Trust in government—woefully lacking, leading to cynicism

Justice—must be fair or fail to induce confidence

I will stop here. I invite readers to share their thoughts.

Our American democracy is regretfully fragile in the second decade of the 21st century. Finding a middle ground is an endangered process. Politicians feel compelled to cater to the extreme wings of their parties. Little gets accomplished.

Courage to place the country first is secondary to being re-elected. Statesmanship is in short supply. Chaos permeates our federal legislature.

My comments almost seem trite. Read, listen and study politics on the local, state and federal levels, and conclusions are obvious: the common good is sacrificed time and time again to political expediency. Politics of the middle, moderate persuasion represents a thin slice of our political landscape.

Alexander Hamilton, a Founding Father and the first secretary of the treasury, said, “Real liberty is neither found in despotism or the extremes of democracy, but in moderate government.” It is foolhardy to dispute this keen observation.

I remain strangely hopeful. A revival of conscience-heavy leadership is hiding in the trenches, ready to emerge and seek a path of selfless public service. Do I inhabit a dream world? Perhaps. 

If my envisioning is naively ridiculous, then what is our future as a thriving democracy? It will be one rooted in darkness. It will be morally bankrupt. We the people will be irrelevant.

With some effort, we can do better. Because we must.

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.

 

Settled in for Thanksgiving in a home long rented by our family fronting the Atlantic Ocean in Rehoboth Beach, Del., I thought about another tranquil beach more than 3,600 miles away in Normandy, France. It was the scene of furious combat in June 1944.

The contrast between the two Atlantic beaches is stark. One conveys a violent history; the other offers serenity and a refuge during the summer months for hordes of tourists naturally oblivious to its opposite across the sea.

Rehoboth Beach has dealt with weather disturbances, such as hurricanes and nor’easters. But no foreign invasions. Just south of Rehoboth, however, is Dewey Beach, dotted to its south with watch towers to defend the Delaware coastline against a feared German invasion during World War II.

Normandy’s most famous beach was code-named Omaha Beach, where deadly fighting occurred on D-Day, June 6, 1944. A German bunker remains. A monument honoring the famed 29th infantry Division (Blue and Gray) is a prominent landmark on the French beach. The surprised Allied invasion of Normandy loosened Adolph Hitler’s iron grip Europe.

The wondrous beach that my family and I see every day during our week-long visit is peaceful and inviting. In fact, it shields us from the constant barrage of disturbing news, the tidal wave of fearsome events. Awakening to a lovely sunrise and sonorous waves is mesmerizing.

For a brief time, we hide from the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, inflation, political attacks, global warming, chaotic campuses coping with antisemitism, mass murders, health care deficits—we flee temporarily from the agonizing diet of gut-wrenching media reports. We bury our heads in the sand.

Our vacation concerns are basic. Meals become our preoccupation. Recreational shopping excites us. Grandchildren grab our attention. Family stories are abundant. Restocking the fireplace with wood is a favorite pastime. Sports on TV relax us.

Still, the sandy coast, buffeted by pleasantly frothy waves, is a natural centerpiece of our escape to Rehoboth Beach. It exercises a gravitational pull on us, physically and emotionally. It offers a brief getaway.

I never tire of capturing images intrinsic to an ocean resort on my IPhone. Redundancy does not interfere with my photography. I try to capture the ocean, the scattering of beach strollers, the dunes and the sunrises.

The effort to create an unforgettable photo on a mobile device thrills me. I understand my limitations.

Civility rules in our favorite home away from home. We opt for patience with our individual idiosyncrasies. We succeed for the most part. While families are not perfect, they bring comfort and familiarity. Warmth of feeling is predominant, with some minor discordance.

In two days, I will savor a delectable turkey leg, along with succulent sides. Family members know fully well my obsessive taste for the meaty legs. I cringe when my son-in-law and grandson claim a turkey limb. We do not buy three-legged turkeys; instead, we choose unattached legs to join the sumptuous meal.

As Thanksgiving approaches in two days, I feel thankful and fearful. I feel grateful for my family and friends; they provide life-giving, emotional and invaluable sustenance. I fret about the cruelty, hatred and incivility in our world. I pray for stability, kindness and respect.

A smidgeon of optimism is also on the table as an intangible ingredient.

To loyal and engaged readers, I hope your Thanksgiving is joyful, a respite from the onslaught of awfulness that engulfs our fractured earth.

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 little Civil War museum in Frederick, Md., focused entirely on medical care in a war that produced more than combat 618,000 deaths, nearly 225,000 fatalities from disease and 1.5 million casualties, is well worth visiting. It tells an often-untold story of keeping soldiers alive under adverse conditions.

Amputations were common (most surgeries), performed at field hospitals. Anesthesia alleviated the pain of basic surgeries. Morphine was a frequently used painkiller. Stretcher-bearers were musicians who had little reason to entertain.

The National Museum of Civil War Medicine does not glorify war. It portrays medical practitioners intent on coping with the results of cannon balls, rifle fire and bayonets. To say they were unsung heroes would be a gross understatement.

Operating conditions were rudimentary. Field expediency was mandatory.

Located near to Antietam and Gettysburg, the museum uses realistic figures of soldiers, doctors and assistants and displays medical equipment like a saw. Once a visitor understands that gleefulness is not part of the presentation, the well-designed exhibits are revealing reminders of the angst and agony of war.

What the museum’s single-subject collection of exhibits does not show amply was treatment of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder Syndrome (PTSD)—not because it did not exist. It did. It lacked a universally accepted medical identifier, such as “shell-shocked,” a term widely used during World War II and likely earlier. 

However, “emotional toll” was acknowledged at the museum. 

One might ask how a museum portrays disabling mental illness directly attributable to the terror of combat. I have no answer. But I would hope that a modern-day museum focused on sophisticated medical treatment would address the psychological impact of war. 

A video game it isn’t.

Readers may conjecture that I deliberately posited a stalking horse to illustrate my interest in, and concern about PTSD. Possibly. It does not disappear easily. It lingers and languishes.

For many, it lasts a lifetime. It is an invisible wound that scars the soul and affects marriages and job performance.

What happened to Civil War veterans who withstood artillery barrages without the protection of foxholes and sandbags and witnessed human destruction? Did they become addicted to morphine? Did they opt for the medicinal effect of alcohol? Did they commit suicide?

A friend wrote a book about his gruesome experiences in the Viet Nam war. He attributed his broken marriage and win-at-all-costs approach to his successful business career as a direct result of PTSD.

Afflicted with depression, he underwent significant therapy. He was fortunate he could afford intense emotional support. Not everyone can, depending on the Veterans Administration (VA) for critical treatment. I have heard favorable stories about the VA’s care of veterans suffering from PTSD.

If a museum offers more than a neutral or sanitized feeling, then it must tackle difficult subjects. It must enable the visiting public—and researchers—to learn the positive and negative aspects of a fraught subject. War will never disappear, unfortunately. Peace is forever elusive.

Emotional combat wounds caused by exposure to death and maiming follow most people beyond their military discharge. No amount of gratitude and awards vanquishes the impact of war. 

Veterans need our empathy; they also deserve the best possible care offered by the U.S. government. PTSD has attracted serious and salutary attention during the past 25 years. Thankfully so.

The National Museum of Civil War Medicine is a gem. It is a necessary part of the military-museum landscape. It also begs the question: how does a museum address the invisible wounds that hurt for a lifetime?

It must convey a clear and unmistakable message that deadly combat yields physical distress, as well as emotional damage. While time is a healer, the medical experts, senior military officers and troops (used generically) must be accountable for honesty, as well as treatment. Denial is not an option.

God bless our veterans and their families.

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.

My pride in my alma mater, the University of Pennsylvania, has endured doubt and despair during the past seven weeks as Penn has withstood a severe conflagration fueled by a surge of antisemitism and a lapse of leadership.

Not a recent day goes by without my becoming immersed in reports of strife on a roiling campus. Protests by Palestinian students, to include chants derogatory to Israel, sparking accusations of antisemitism by Jewish students and alumni, have created a sense of danger felt deeply by Jewish undergrads. Nazi swastikas have appeared on a campus building. As have anti-Jewish graffiti.

As a Jew and devoted alumnus, I am concerned. Wealthy alumni, predominantly Jewish, have closed their checkbooks. They angrily demanded the resignations of the president and board chair. They have publicized their discontent in national media.

Why are they irate?

Because the president, Liz Magill, refused to cancel the on-campus Palestine Writers Festival, which included antisemitic speakers. Magill also reacted slowly and initially weakly to the Hamas attack on Israel in the view of alumni. The resulting reaction has been ugly and rancorous.

The too-long contention relates to a combustible mix of academic freedom, free speech, donor discontent and Jew-hatred. University presidents must lead in a toxic environment. They must confront free speech and determine when it morphs into hate speech. They must uphold sacred academic freedom amidst deep venom targeting Jewish students. They must ensure campuses are safe for the conflicting groups of students.

And they must deal with donors furiously unhappy with the administration, severing financial support. Financial consequences cannot be ignored.

A non-academic term would be a “holy mess.”

So, readers, where do I stand regarding antisemitism on the campuses of Penn, Harvard, Columbia, Cornell, Coopers Union, New York University, George Washington University and Tulane? 

Conflicted. Fretful.

While I disdain any form of antisemitism, having borne the brunt at times, and fear a potential Holocaust in our divided, tribal country, I cannot support calls for resignations of top leaders. It is extreme. The consequent upheaval would further strain currently fractured campuses.

The Hamas attack demanded immediate condemnation. Magill waited two days to respond. Too weakly, many thought. Then, she responded, far more strongly. Jewish alumni reacted angrily. Last week, she released an action plan to fight antisemitism. She is working hard to regain the trust of students, parents and alumni.

Hatred of Jews is a rabid disease that subsides, erupts, subsides and erupts again. No Jew can forget the horror of Adolph Hitler’s abject murder of six million Jews in the late 1930s and early 1940s. The scars never fully heal among Jews of all ages. 

My parents were unyielding in their gloomy expectation of another mass slaughter in our world despite assimilation.

Hatred of all kinds will never vanish. Antisemitism goes back thousands of years. Why? Jews are considered “other.” Words such as “different” in appearance and religious come to mind, easily and maliciously stereotyped to perpetuate preconceptions and bias.

Our American democracy and communal unity depend on open-mindedness, underpinning the cohesion and tolerance that strengthens and nourishes our country. Lofty words that seem overly optimistic? Maybe so. 

How do we live without noble aspirations? We are bereft if we cannot hope for a better future. 

One last point: students have a long history of peaceful protests. I applaud their gumption and grit. However, protests that include messages and chants of hatred are not okay. These actions can lead to physical altercations, or worse. They can create an environment that encourages unjust attacks on Jews. They call for discipline, including expulsion.

A guest essay written by three students at Yale, Cornell and Brown and published recently in the New York Times is particularly incisive. The following paragraph precisely describes the currently poisonous climate pervasive at the universities cited above:

“All students have sacred rights to hold events, teach-ins and protests. And university faculty must present arguments that make students uncomfortable. University campuses are unique hubs of intellectual discovery and debate, designed to teach students how to act within a free society. But free inquiry is not possible in an environment of intimidation. Harassment and intimidation fly in the face of the purpose of a university.”

I will always be proud of Penn. I also will be critical at times. Condemnation of antisemitism is non-negotiable. Eradication would be ideal.

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 big, quirky house, ideally located overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in Rehoboth Beach, summons my wife and me three times a year. Our recent visit weeks ago featured beautifully pleasant and sunny weather.

We were very content. Family members and a longtime friend joined us. The world seemed welcoming.

Our journey through Sussex County, Del. worsens every time we travel to the beach for a dosage of tranquillity. Once productive farmland now sprouts thousands of new homes, apartments, office buildings and fitness centers. Planned growth is an oxymoron.

Any rural beauty that may have existed is a distant memory. Two-lane country roads lead to Route 1, the primary corridor to bustling Rehoboth Beach. Bordered by outlet shopping centers, fast food emporiums, restaurants, hotels and big box stores, Route 1 tests your patience, a virtual obstacle course leading to a semblance of relaxation.

Delaware has become a haven for retirees. No wonder. The state has no sales tax, imposes no tax on Social Security benefits and exempts $12,000 of retirement income. No need to retire to Florida, just put down your roots in the Mid-Atlantic and foreswear the nutty politics and frequent hurricanes of the Sunshine State.

Mind you, Rehoboth Beach is best when the mass of tourists, often recognizable by their body art, are gone. Hence, we visit in October, November (Thanksgiving) and early May (prior to Memorial Day. We feel blessed to enjoy quiet and serenity. Cool weather does not bother us.

Readers may find my observations snooty and off-putting. I would understand that reaction. Solitude is tough to find, except in the scenic states of Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont. We have placed our bets in a place we love at times we find pleasurable.

And Rehoboth Beach also offers celebrity-watching in the form of President and Mrs Biden. The Bidens enjoy a beach house about two blocks from the ocean. I must confess that I would not mind a peek.

Sussex County is oblivious to sound planning. Route 1 offers multiple lights and constant traffic. Rehoboth Beach is a gem, particularly sparkling when the crowds have gone home. We wait patiently for the fall.

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.

Forty survivors of the Nazi’s horrific Holocaust and current volunteers at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, DC are coping with painful memories produced by the recent, deadly terrorist attack by Hamas.

They deserve empathy. Better than most, they understand death delivered by people who thrive on hatred and destruction of Jews.

Imagine being a survivor of Adolf Hitler’s systematic purge of Jews in Germany, Austria, France, Hungary and Czechoslovakia. The horror of being hunted never vanishes. The knowledge that your religion marks you as disposable is unbearable.

Imagine losing your parents, siblings and close family members to the Nazi’s gas chambers and your childhood community to massive elimination.

And, then, these memory-wracked senior citizens must watch scenes of the gruesome killing of children, hostages and concert-goers by inhuman Hamas terrorists. The Holocaust survivors promised their family members they would not forget the horror committed by evil forces.

These survivors must now seek to understand the continuation of extermination by people unconcerned by the loss of lives of Gaza residents unaffiliated with Hamas. Israel has declared its intention to wipe out the Hamas leaders and their disciples.

Israel must decide its means of unearthing Hamas forces from underground tunnels and other hideaways. It will be relentless. It will be ruthless in saving the Jewish state.

I feel for the Holocaust survivors. Maybe they knew instinctively that crimes against humanity would never cease, that antisemitism is endemic to mankind. They are hardened against mass murder and ethnic cleansing.

Yet, they too harbor innate optimism that peace and compassion are not worthless concepts, empty words in describing possible human behavior. They are immutable goals in a world that functions best when hatred is subordinate to harmony, if not love.

I bemoan leaders who seek to sow the seeds of discord. I cringe at the depiction of killing for the sake of instilling fear and perpetuating inhuman behavior.

Antisemitism is a rabid disease that often comes in waves. Unfortunately it is latent, difficult, if not
impossible to eradicate. It is a shameful blight on the human condition.

It disappears with tolerance. An unattainable goal for those unalterably determined to destroy Jews and Israel.

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.