Commentary

Gov. Wes Moore (D) is a breath of fresh progressive air in Annapolis. And almost all observers agree with his self-appraisal: We had, he’s written, “one of the most productive legislative sessions for any Maryland governor at any time during their tenure.” Yet, he seems to have struggled on one core subject: funding for the Blueprint for Maryland’s Future and particularly our most disadvantaged students.

Gov. Wes Moore is expected to sign House Bill 193/Senate Bill 211 into law. This bipartisan bill, sponsored by Sen. Chris West and Del. David Moon, will amend the Probation Before Judgment (“PBJ”) statute so that it no longer triggers unintended adverse consequences, like loss of federal employment or legal immigration status. The bill enjoyed a broad base of support, including from Attorney General Anthony Brown, the Maryland State’s Attorney Association, the Maryland Office of the Public Defender, the Administrative Office of the Courts, the Maryland State Bar Association and retired judges.

As a physician, I am thankful that my colleagues and public health collaborators took a laser-focused approach to the COVID-19 pandemic, with the intention to save as many lives as possible. It is within this context that I consider with curiosity why our nation’s urgency to bend the curve on obesity pales in comparison to our dedication to eradicating COVID-19.

Let’s take a walk to the water for Earth Day. There’s a trail hidden in Eastport, a charming and expensive Annapolis neighborhood. It’s on Boucher Avenue, which may or may not be named for the Tory rector of St. Anne’s Church who escaped a crowd of angry rebels by holding their leader at pistol-point while galloping away on his horse. Pink flowering trees obscure the entrance. There’s no sign, except for one notifying you that the all-seeing eye of Neighborhood Watch protects this spot.

“BYE DAN,” blares a banner unfurled over Route 50 in Maryland. Daniel Snyder tentatively agreeing to sell the Washington Commanders, a once-beloved team that he wrecked, has rightly led to an outpouring of relief across the D.C. region. The NFL franchise’s new owners should aim not just to win again but to unite people across racial, class and partisan lines — as the team did before.

Roman Welzant, who claimed to have been tormented for years by neighborhood teenagers, shot two of them one winter night in 1980 as they threw snowballs at his house in Eastwood, just over the city line in Baltimore County. Welzant, who was 68 at the time, killed one of the teens and seriously wounded the other. Six months later, a jury in Towson felt sorry for Welzant and found him not guilty of second-degree murder. But 18-year-old Albert Kahl was dead over snowballs, and his mother cried out in the courtroom: “You all have Albert’s blood on your hands. Mr. Welzant, you’re a killer.”

Almost a full decade after the Frederick County Board of Commissioners went out of existence, its ghost continues to haunt Winchester Hall, tying the hands of current officials and forcing excessive growth on the county. As in Dickens’ “Christmas Carol,” our problem is not so much the ghost of the past as it is the ghost of the future. Decisions made by those commissioners still require county officials to approve projects that they know the county is unprepared for.