Commentary

As legendary heroes go, Robin Hood is as popular as any. Who can be against robbing from the rich to give to the poor? Unfortunately, for too long Baltimore has been using a redevelopment strategy that does the opposite: We frequently punish the poor and working-class while privileging the well-connected and well-to-do. The latest example is a proposal to create a “downtown TIF district” to rescue that area from decline. For readers not up on the latest urban renewal jargon, “tax increment financing” involves giving developers a big subsidy on their upfront project costs.

The now infamous Supreme Court draft opinion by Justice Samuel Alito, repealing Roe v. Wade, is not just a shameful ransacking of a 50-year-old precedent, it is an epic assault on the fundamental right of women to participate as equals in American society. Roe is not just about the medical procedure of abortion and protecting women’s health and lives, it is also about women’s autonomy, dignity and status as citizens.

Fifty years ago, the day before the 1972 Maryland presidential primary, then-Alabama governor and Democratic presidential candidate George C. Wallace was shot at the Laurel Shopping Center in Prince George’s County. Wallace won Maryland — and Michigan, held the same day — but he was permanently paralyzed by the shooting. Despite winning two more terms as Alabama’s governor, he never again was a serious presidential contender. Wallace was never nominated for president, but his influence on the politics of the 1960s and 1970s was important, and his popularity in Maryland was significant.

Ten years ago, on The Sun’s 175th anniversary, we took stock of the paper’s editorial board positions on some of the biggest issues facing the country over those many years, largely focusing on what we thought earlier writers had gotten wrong: They were pro Confederacy, anti New Deal, and, it appears, they never saw U.S. involvement in World War II coming. The piece was a fairly lighthearted look at some very serious subjects. Forgive us if we’re slightly more sober now, as we reflect on turning 185, which the paper will do May 17th. The past decade has been a trying one, for both the news industry and the populace.

Fifteen years ago, a quiet man in a green work uniform — something you might see a custodian or mechanic wear — stepped forward when his name was called, pulled a pair of drum sticks from his back pocket and took a seat behind a glittery drum set at the Guitar Center in Towson. He was a middle-aged man, the oldest contestant to appear for a Saturday drum-off in the music store. The man suddenly burst into a riff that was shocking in its excellence, building to a dizzying crescendo.

Last weekend, a confluence of very public and intensely personal circumstances met when the 148th running of the Kentucky Derby coincided with the 14th-anniversary of my husband’s death — while I was at my boyfriend’s house (yes, 78-year-old widows do have boyfriends). I am a sucker for pageantry, and through the years, my husband Bill indulged my odd proclivity by mixing gin and tonics and watching the race with me. My Derby fascination, however, began long before I met him. As a Polish-Catholic kid in New England, I began watching it in my teens on my parents’ black and white TV, probably to catch a glimpse into an elegant world of julips in silver cups and women in tasteful sheaths and white gloves.

As millions of kids in the U.S. return to fields and courts for spring sports, black eyes and bloody noses are returning too. This time the injuries aren’t just among the athletes. These are dangerous times for referees and umpires who call penalties and outs. In Laurel, Mississippi, this spring an umpire of a 12-year-olds’ softball game was ambushed by a parent in the parking lot and hit in the face after the game. The accused assailant — wearing a “Mother of the Year” T-shirt — was arrested and charged with simple assault, a misdemeanor, and fined $422.25.