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July 28, 2025

Cambridge Spy

Nonpartisan and Education-based News for Cambridge

  • About Us
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  • The Arts and Design
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3 Top Story Point of View David

Transparency and accountability on state funds sent to Maryland nonprofits by David Reel

July 28, 2025 by David Reel
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Winston Churchill once said, “In times of great uncertainty, look for great opportunities.”

The Maryland state government has been and is operating in times of great uncertainty.

That is especially true when the general assembly and governor have a constitutional mandate to approve a balanced annual state budget and a new administration in Washington.

One great opportunity is the focus of a recent thought-provoking and impossible-to-ignore article in the Baltimore Sun.

The article headline was: “Maryland officials don’t know how much the state spends on nonprofits.”

The opening paragraph of the article says it all. “As Maryland funnels taxpayer dollars to nonprofits each year, neither state budget officials nor individual agencies can say exactly how much money is flowing, raising concerns about transparency and accountability.”

These concerns were affirmed by the chief of staff at the Maryland Department of Budget and Management when he told a Sun reporter, “Many nonprofits receive funds directly from agency grant programs, and we don’t track that centrally.”

Based on that reply, the Sun asked individual Maryland departments and agencies to provide details on the state money they send to nonprofits. The replies were varied and disturbing.

Some departments and agencies responded with specific dollar amounts, some responded that they needed time to determine the amounts and some large state departments responded that they could not provide the information. Those include the Departments of Health, Department of Labor, Department of Human Services and Department of Juvenile Services.

In January of this year, the governor’s director of communications told a Sun reporter that the state money allotted to nonprofits is “a miniscule amount of the budget every year.”

Is it really a minuscule amount?

David Brinkley was director of the Maryland Department of Budget and Management for eight years. Before that while serving in the state Senate, Brinkley was a member of the Senate Finance Committee and the Senate Budget and Taxation Committee.

Brinkley suggested to a Sun reporter that he wouldn’t be surprised if around $1 or $2 billion of the state’s annual budget goes directly to nonprofits.

That begs the question — Is there a way for the state government to be more transparent and accountable with greater details on the matter of providing state funds to nonprofits?

The answer is yes.

In fact, it is already being done at the Governor’s Office of Crime Prevention and Policy.

That office has a system in place to identify the nonprofit recipients and the amounts of state funding they receive from that office.

The system was launched by Dorothy Lennig, the office’s executive director, who previously served at the House of Ruth, a nonprofit organization that provides domestic violence programs.

About her experience at the House of Ruth, Lennig told a Sun reporter said, “There was always interest in the nonprofit community about who else was getting money. And so, I thought, you know, this is the public’s money, and it should not be a secret where the money goes.”

Indeed. The public has a right to know that information, and the government has an obligation to share it.

Earlier this year, a majority in the general assembly and Governor Moore agreed on new taxes, tax increases, fee increases, budget cuts, and rainy-day fund drawdowns to address a projected state budget deficit.

How many of these changes could have been mitigated or revised with a thorough evaluation of the effectiveness and efficiency of nonprofits that receive state funds?

Going forward, I am NOT suggesting cuts in state funds sent to nonprofits.

After serving as a nonprofit President and CEO in four state,s including Maryland, I fully understand and greatly appreciate their role and value in our society.

I do suggest there are ways to help ensure state funding for nonprofits is done in such a way that results in a maximum return on investment from that state funding.

To accomplish this, we need a commitment from the governor and every member of the General Assembly to take timely action on implementing the following policies and procedures.

  • Use the Governor’s Office of Crime Prevention and Policy’s transparency and openness program as a model for every state department and agency that provides state funds (and perhaps passes through federal funds) to Maryland nonprofits.
  • Regular evaluations of all nonprofits receiving state funds to affirm that their staff and volunteer leadership embrace and follow Peter F. Drucker’s observation: “Not-for-profit organizations need management even more than business. Good intentions are no substitute for organization and leadership, for accountability, performance, and results.”

We need these policies and procedures well before debates, deliberations, and decisions on a new state budget in the 2026 general assembly session.

David Reel is a public affairs consultant, public relations consultant, and a not-for-profit organizational governance, leadership and management consultant who lives in Easton.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, David

The Summer Doldrums by Angela Rieck

July 24, 2025 by Angela Rieck
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Last week’s column about the sounds of summer can’t be complete without talking about the inevitable summer doldrums brought on by relentless heat. I feel sort of listless and lack motivation to even write this column (which I normally love to do). 

So, I went on the Internet to research what to do about these summer blues. Here is what the experts recommended.

The first step is to appreciate what summer offers. Experts recommend that we embrace a positive mindset (of course if that were easy, I wouldn’t be researching how to end the summer gloom). 

As always, mindfulness is important. The experts recommend that we try to focus on the present moment, and find something to enjoy about it, such as the outdoor beauty (from inside.) This can help improve mood and motivation to engage in the activities that are offered.

Summer offers a unique freeness that is absent in the other seasons. This year, the unusual rains have brought an unexpected green and lushness to our summer landscape. The Crepe Myrtles are making a spectacular debut by ignoring the summer heat. The limelight hydrangeas are emerging and rudbeckia welcomes all with its yellow flowers and brown centers. The fireflies delight each night and there are outdoor concerts in summer evenings. Summer offers special events such as the plein air festival. It is recommended that we try to sign up for at least one event per month.

Summer would not be summer without the plethora of fresh fruits and vegetables that are available at the farm stands, farmers’ markets, and even grocery stores. A fresh salad and freshly prepared fruits and vegetables reminds us how good healthy eating feels.

Experts recommend that we prioritize self-care. This could be a nap, a relaxing shower, exercise, a massage or facial, healthy fresh vegetables and fruit, or anything that cares for your physical body. Practicing self-care reminds us that we are important. 

If we get a day that gives us a break from the heat, take advantage of it. A short walk, gardening, sitting by the pool, a brief bike ride, or anything that allows you to enjoy the outside. Exposure to sunlight and fresh air can boost mood and energy levels. 

This is a good time to set some goals. I decided to paint my bathroom. It allows me to stay indoors away from the heat and paint a room that is in desperate need of a refresh. It is important to set realistic goals, so I am going to paint the room in two days rather than try to push it into a single day. 

Try something new: prepare a new recipe with fresh vegetables, read a book, or watch a show or movie that you might not typically choose. Summer can be a great time to learn a new skill, take a class, or try a creative activity. I have decided to improve my Spanish. Duolingo is an app that provides an interesting way to learn a foreign language. It is free unless you want a deluxe version that offers AI chats in the language.

Plan a day trip. This is a time to enjoy a museum, go to the beach, visit an arboretum, or check out our historical sites, especially those along the underground railroad. Because summer is slower, we can take extra time to enjoy it. 

Consider journaling. Writing can be a powerful way to stay focused. It is good to chronicle what we have done during the day. It allows us to reinforce good habits and see what we have accomplished even if we are a little bored.

While trying new events also remember to keep some structure in your daily routine. This includes consistent sleep patterns and breaks. Each morning, I ride my bike before it gets too hot, so I have added that to my schedule and make myself ride even if I would prefer to stay indoors.

This is a good season to spend time with friends and family. Social interaction and shared experiences boost both mood and motivation. This can include joining clubs, such as a book club, hosting a party, setting up a regular game, or visiting others. 

Avoid negativity if possible. It is easy to get down on ourselves when we are isolated by the weather, so think positive thoughts and avoid those people who tend to criticize or be negative.

Because it is summer, it is important to drink plenty of water throughout the day to combat the effects of heat and fatigue. Eating healthy always improves mood, but treat yourself to those summer delights. Is there a better time for watermelon or ice cream than mid to late summer? 

Most of all remember that these “dog days” will be over soon and cooler temperatures will prevail.


Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, Angela

Back to Normal by Jamie Kirkpatrick

July 22, 2025 by Jamie Kirkpatrick
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You may recall that for the last ten days, my wife and I were on grandparent duty: four bundles of joy and energy, ages five to twelve, each with different personalities, different appetites, different schedules, and different bedtimes. Their parents were away on a delayed anniversary trip to Greece thanks to COVID, so we got the call to come in from the bullpen and supervise Camp Runamok. Then yesterday, the kids’ parents returned home refreshed, and now our lives are getting back to normal, whatever that means.

And just when I was beginning to get the hang of it. By Day 10, I could unload one of the two dishwashers and know where to put away all the plates, cups, glasses, and cutlery. I had finally figured out where all the various pots and pans lived, how to navigate each of three televisions, how to turn on and off the lights that were on out-of-the-way switches, how to master the coffee pot and the gas grill on the porch, how to manipulate the pool’s feisty cover (although the “waterfall’ setting on the wireless remote still puzzles me), even how to load and turn on the washing machines and dryers which have more control settings than a SpaceX rocket. The entire experience was somewhere between overwhelming and exhilarating, but never dull or boring. I admit that last night, after we were relieved of duty, my wife and I did go out to enjoy a just-the-two-of-us-dinner, during which we relived each and every moment of our time with the kids. And now, this morning, we’re back in our own relatively quiet routines, back to normal, whatever that is.

I’m sure you’ll agree that not much is normal these days. Life seems more and more like an out-of-control rollercoaster hurtling toward disaster. Every day brings a new conundrum, another shock-to-the-system headline, some new animus. Once, I might have chafed at being “back to normal,” but now I’d take normal in a heartbeat. I’d especially take it for the grandkids: I worry about the mess we’re leaving them, the one that can’t be cleaned up with dishwashers and washing machines.

Normal means conforming to a standard; usual, expected, typical, routine. You tell me: what is usual, expected, typical, or routine about these days? Where once we might have equated “normal” with bland or unexciting, now I long for it like I long for a good chocolate milkshake. OK; maybe occasional excitement is good for the soul, but constant chaos isn’t. It’s exhausting, debilitating. Normal is natural, predictable, and orderly, not random, mean, or deviant. 

Psychologists cite four general criteria for abnormal behavior: violation of social norms (kindness and empathy, for example), statistical rarity, personal distress, and maladaptive behavior. Sound familiar? What lessons will those four little monkeys we tended last week derive from all the lunacy surrounding them now? Who will inspire them to lead worthy lives?

Thank goodness they don’t pay much overt attention to the nightly news yet, but some of this abnormality surely creeps in under the door. And someday, as their innocent childhoods slip away, they will have to chart their own respective courses through these roiling seas. I may not be around by then, but I hope I will still be with them.

Normal has gotten a bad rap; people equate it with boring. Even the great philosopher Marilyn Monroe once said, “Being normal is boring!” Well, maybe it is to a Hollywood starlet, but not to me. I miss the kids, but I’m glad my life is back to normal.

I’ll be right back.


 Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer who lives on both sides of the Chesapeake Bay. His editorials and reviews have appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy Magazine. His most recent novel, “The Tales of Bismuth; Dispatches from Palestine, 1945-1948” explores the origins of the Arab-Israeli conflict. It is available on Amazon and in local bookstores. His newest novel, “The People Game,” hits the market in February, 2026. His website is musingjamie.net.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, Jamie

Chesapeake Bay Blues by David Reel

July 21, 2025 by David Reel
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The Chesapeake Bay has a long history of challenges to its health and sustainability.

Its ability to not only survive, but also to thrive are threatened by: 

  • Regular discharges of untreated wastewater from malfunctioning wastewater treatment plants in Baltimore.
  • Runoff from farms, streets, parking lots, and development.
  • Sediment discharges from Susquehanna River overflows at the Conowingo Dam. 
  • Constantly fluctuating levels of native species.

If history is any indication, the prospects of meaningful action on any of these challenges is not promising. 

There is one constant on all of these challenges. 

When all is said and done about them, a lot has been said, but almost nothing has been done. 

Another serious challenge that has not received widespread attention has been the steadily increasing numbers of blue catfish in the Bay.

Blue catfish are not a new challenge. 

They first appeared in the Bay over fifty years ago after they were originally introduced into rivers on Virginia’s Western Shore. 

All expectations were they would remain in those rivers since conventional thinking was blue catfish prefer a freshwater environment. 

Defying expectations, blue catfish adapted to higher salinity levels more than anticipated. As a result, they successfully migrated into the Bay where their numbers continue to expand.

They were then and continue to be classified as an invasive species. Their numbers are not only increasing in the Bay, but they are also in every major river in Maryland.

Worse yet, they have no natural predators and are voracious predators of other native species such as blue crabs, clams, mussels, oysters, striped bass (rockfish), menhaden, American eel, and other economically and ecologically important species. 

Their appetites are so voracious they have been known to devour small blue catfish. 

Scientists who follow the Bay ecosystem have concluded that completely eradicating blue catfish in the Bay is not realistic. 

Instead, the goal is reducing their numbers in the Bay to a point where native species can at least coexist with them and not become extinct.

Efforts to reduce the blue catfish numbers have had relatively limited success at best.

Ongoing marketing efforts by Maryland’s Department of Agriculture to promote eating blue catfish to chefs, consumers, restaurants, grocery stores, and distributors have not made a dramatic difference in demand.

Apparently, many consumers view blue catfish as foul-tasting muddy water bottom feeders. 

In reality, many who have eaten blue catfish, me included, have found them to be not only edible, but also nutritious, healthy, and delicious.

Even with greater human consumption of blue catfish, more action is needed. 

One way to do that is to significantly increase the overall market for them.

That is the goal of legislation that was introduced in Congress earlier this month, the Mitigation Action and Watermen Support Act, or MAWS Act.

If approved by Congress and by President Trump, the MAWS Act is intended to increase blue catfish harvests for use as dog and cat food.

 

Achieving that goal could lead to greater harvesting of another invasive fish species in the Bay.

Snakehead fish are comparable to blue catfish in terms of being nutritious, healthy, and delicious, despite their unappetizing name and appearance.

Going forward there are encouraging developments on The MAWS Act.

It currently has bipartisan sponsorship with two Republican House members from Virginia — Rob Wittman and Jen Kiggans and two Democratic House members from Maryland — Sarah Elfreth and Steny Hoyer. 

Wittman, Kiggans, and Elfreth are also members of the Sub Committee on Water, Wildlife, and Fisheries of the House Natural Resources Committee. 

The MAWS Act also has support from The Pet Food Institute of America, whose members make the vast majority of dog and cat food purchased by an estimated 65.1 million households in America who have dogs as pets and an estimated 46.5 million households in America who have cats as pets. 

Their president and CEO recently said, “Pet Food Institute is proud to endorse the MAWS Act, … enabling pet food makers to use Chesapeake Bay blue catfish as a high-quality ingredient in complete and balanced cat and dog food,”

Hopefully, timely enactment and implementation of the MAWS Act will not only help the bay with two invasive species but also serve as a catalyst for less talk and more action from elected and appointed national, state, and local officials to address all the Chesapeake Bay Blues. 

David Reel is a public affairs and public relations consultant who lives in Easton.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, David

Chicken Scratch: What else is there to do? Aging, attention, and becoming — by Elizabeth Beggins

July 19, 2025 by Elizabeth Beggins
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It’s time for my annual pilgrimage.Not the sort a friend just made, walking blisters onto her feet and renewal into her soul on the Camino de Santiago, but with parallels, nonetheless. Something went wrong every day, she said, starting with a canceled flight, but it was still an incredible experience.
“Yes,” I think. “That.”They say aging is a test of endurance. I say, so is living. Every day, I face my demons. There are no shortcuts. And so far I’m still at it, because despite themselves, they can’t keep me from what’s miraculous, precious, or beautiful.

Picture of a path between pine trees

Pilgrimage – photo by the author

Here’s something precious:

This community loves a woman named Carol. As a volunteer managing social media for the local farmers market—an institution I helped launch 28 seasons ago—I shared a photo of her with a few simple words:

This is Carol.

Carol shops at the farmers market every week.

Even when it rains. Even when it’s hot.

Even when other people stay home and grumble about parking.

Carol is smart.

Carol is kind.

Carol has seen a lot in her years—and she still chooses joy.

She rolls up weekly, picks out the best of what the market has to offer, and always has a kind word for the farmer.

Everyone smiles when Carol is here.

Be like Carol.

The world needs more Carols. 🌻💛

The post has garnered close to 300 reactions and a flurry of supportive comments. Carol is almost 90. She wears compression socks, uses a rollator, doesn’t stand as upright as she once did. And she is utterly delightful.

Here’s something beautiful:

Last week, at the same farmers market, I approached a stand run by a couple I’ve known for many years, two people who have endured a lot. She walked away just as I arrived, her husband watching with weariness and worry, saying how unfair it is, what life has done to her. She’s been leaving with greater frequency, the result of progressive cognitive decline and imagined offenses she typically blames, without cause, on him. I offered to go after her, see if I could encourage her to come back.

I remember how my mom struggled as my dad’s capacities deteriorated, how he accused her of having an affair when she left for a meeting, or a short trip out of town.

Just as she reached the edge of the road, I met up with my wandering friend, called her name, put my hand on her shoulder.

“It’s Elizabeth,” I said. “Would you like to walk back this way with me?”

“Did he send you after me?” she asked, frowning.

“No. I just wanted to hold your hand for a little while.”

On the short but slow journey back, we talked about how she’d just as soon not be here anymore and about how we were wearing the same color. I told her how nice it felt in the shade of their tent, and how the breeze made all the difference. I asked her what she’d call the color we were wearing. We landed on peach, or salmon. By the time I moved along, she seemed to have forgotten that she was angry.

Other than good fortune, there is nothing standing between me and the end of my life. This has been true since the day I was born. That I’m still here, moving through my sixties, feels nothing short of miraculous. I’ll take all of it I can get. (I’ll get back to you on that when it hurts more to be here than I imagine the leaving will.) I know the clock is ticking, which means the chance to grow older is like winning the lottery every damn day.

A faded caution sign with the words "Watch Children"

Watch! photo by the author

So, I will live. Soften. Ripen. Practice being who I think I want to be. I will savor my days, knowing it only takes a hint of sweetness to balance the sour, the bitter, the salty. As my body fades, I’ll amplify my light. As it falters, I’ll amplify my love. Send them both to the places they’re needed most—which, of course, is everywhere. What else is there to do?

Think about that for a minute, would you? Think about the wonder of living. Of all the options, we’ve arrived here. This morning, we opened our eyes, wiped away the crust, made our way into some kind of day.

Have you looked around lately? Really looked? At the ants crossing the threshold? The plants sprouting on the doormat? The faded sign, the sagging flag, the flowers in the window? At the sloped shoulders of the guy getting home from a 12-hour shift, at the woman and the dog who go past every morning and evening? What kind of dog is it again?

Good god, we’re alive! I just had a birthday, and I’m not about to be quiet about it. What a remarkable thing it is to be born at all, to live at all.

I am on a pilgrimage. This can only ever be a solo journey, a well-traveled path curving with the pulsing current of humanity, conversations slipping over worn stones that ask how I’ve been, where I’ve been, where I’m headed.

A pair of trees, once small as wrists, stand textured and stately. In their canopies live the dreams I lifted up long ago. Looking up from the shadows, I see them pirouette overhead, responding to forces beyond their control: now rain, now bird, a blast of wind, a fallen friend.

My body is this path. My legs are these trees. My arms, branches. My dreams still dreams, but with deeper roots. I am noticing what’s here, holding what’s here, loving what’s here. I don’t know what I’m becoming. But I’m calling it wondrous.

A poem by Andrea Gibson

Andrea Gibson: August 13, 1975 – July 14, 2025

 


An audio version of this essay, read by the author, is available here.

Elizabeth Beggins is a communications and outreach specialist focused on regional agriculture. She is a former farmer, recovering sailor, and committed over-thinker who appreciates opportunities to kindle conversation and invite connection. On “Chicken Scratch,” a reader-supported publication hosted by Substack, she writes non-fiction essays rooted in realistic optimism. To receive her weekly posts and support her work, become a free or paid subscriber here.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, Spy Journal

What is the Game Today? By Al Sikes

July 18, 2025 by Al Sikes
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The much-honored sportswriter, Roger Angel, writing in 1972 about baseball, while reflecting on sports, said, “Sports are too much with us. Late and soon sitting and watching—mostly watching on television—we lay waste our powers of identification and enthusiasm and, in time, attention as more and more closing rallies and crucial putts and late field goals and final playoffs and sudden deaths and world records and world championships unreel themselves ceaselessly before our half-lidded eyes. Professional leagues expand like bubble gum, ever larger and thinner, and the extended sporting seasons, now bunching and overlapping at the ends, conclude in exhaustion and the wrong weather.”

Fifty years later, Angel’s 1972 lament is especially biting.  I recall it for the millions who play inside rather than outside. As Angel’s “time thinned product” invites boredom, today’s owners have spent billions on their boyhood fantasy, cynically pushing their captive audiences to buy more, pay more, and now bet more. It is said the all-in cost of an NFL game is $350-$600 for two persons, for example. The all-in cost of gambling is unknowable.

Bob Costas, a 29-time Emmy Award winner, and recognized as the National Sportscaster of the Year eight times, in a recent interview on sports gambling by his father said there was “a lot of trauma in our family life because he had a volatile temper and the mortgage was often riding on how his bets went….. he didn’t bet on, you know, cards or poker games or crap games or go to the racetrack. He bet on baseball, football, and basketball games.”

There was a time in the early 1970s when I played poker with five or six guys. During football season, we would meet at a friend’s business, and he would give us the Sunday football betting card. It was done quietly—betting on sports was illegal.

And there were the bets with my Dad. We would always bet on the Army-Navy game—he had been in the Army, so I always had Navy. The numbers were digestible; as I recall $10 tops (1950s dollars). I come to this topic initiated, but boy, how times have changed. Too often, stimulation has become the game.

Now my loyal ChatGPT assistant reports that “Online gambling is undergoing rapid, double-digit annual growth—driven by expansion in the U.S., mobile-first strategies, and immersive technology adoption.”

I suspect some of the growth momentum is caused by the micro-bet. Major League Baseball is investigating two specific pitches that Cleveland Guardian pitcher Luis Ortiz threw. Both pitches had a higher-than-usual number of bets placed on them — action that was flagged by a betting integrity firm.

Yes, there are essentially an infinite number of ways you can bet on sports these days. One of them is a micro-bet about what the first pitch of a given inning might be: ball, strike, swinging strike—well use your imagination.

As we “lay waste our powers of identification and enthusiasm,” our ultimate animal spirit object, money, has become the stimulus. The game becomes ours. We either win or lose; who cares who wins the game on the field or in the gym? We get to play regardless of how inanimate we choose to be.

Oh well, the cynical win. The new owners with their billions on the roulette wheel of life. They are the games rights holders; the networks ultimately deal with them. The rights holders mostly own monopolies. Viewers might find an off-brand football league, but of course want to watch their NFL team.

And then there are the middlemen who handle the transactions and the State agencies that provide the gambling licenses—they get a cut too. Maybe we should throw in that part of the health care community that intercedes with the addicted. Maybe that is the final cut.

Al Sikes is the former Chair of the Federal Communications Commission under George H.W. Bush. Al writes on themes from his book, Culture Leads Leaders Follow published by Koehler Books. 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, Al

Summer Soundtrack by Angela Rieck

July 17, 2025 by Angela Rieck
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Each season has its own scent and soundtrack. I can close my eyes, ignore the temperature and know what season it is by these sounds and the scents. 

Autumn brings the rustle from leaves being swept across the pavement, and the crunch from these leaves as we walk through them. Canada geese honk in the sky and crows caw to notify their kin of a newly harvested field. The air is dry and crisp, so the sounds from hunting and other machines are louder and more differentiated. 

Winter is cold silence, especially the surreal quiet after a snowstorm, when every sound seems to be absorbed into the surroundings. When there is no snow, echoes and sounds are louder because there is no flora to absorb them. Most birds have migrated or gone into the woods; only the cars or the lonely sound of a dog barking remain.

Spring adds warmth to the cool air, and a natural perfume wafting from the flowering bushes and trees. When the rain comes, I hear the sounds of the rain pattering onto the pavement. The birds sing endlessly as they celebrate their return and prepare their nests for their families.

Summer is also unique. In the early morning, the paradactyl squawks from the great blue heron rookery on the nature trail echo in the sky as one parent returns from night duty and the other takes flight in the morning to hunt for food. 

The whining lawn mowers, leaf blowers, and weed whackers punctuate the peaceful silence but leave the sweet smell of cut grass. There are mid-summer celebrations that bring loud pops and booms that pierce the night air. 

Then there are the thunderstorms, miraculous and frightening events where bright lightening briefly illuminates the sky, followed by the clash of thunder. Just before the rain arrives, the air takes on a metallic scent. The rain is no gentle pitter-patter as in spring, instead it pounds the ground and slaps the windshield if you are unlucky enough to be driving through it.

The spring flowers are gone, but some scented flowers remain. The honeysuckle’s sweet smell lingers in the humid air, phlox and roses share their perfume. 

Along the rivers and creeks there is a faint smell of brine, decay, and fish that lingers in the warm, humid aid. Blue-gray rivers wind leisurely around the green patches of cattails and woodland along their sandy banks. A cloudless, pastel blue sky is quiet except for an occasional lone osprey circling overhead. The houses lining the shore are grand and crisply painted, featuring long docks with shiny white sailboats and power boats. 

Mid-summer also brings the ubiquitous farm stands. You can smell the sweet scent of corn, ripe red tomatoes; dark green zucchini with white speckles; creamy yellow squashes; green and white freckled pickling cucumbers; deep red-, green- and yellow-colored peppers. The fruits come and go with the seasons, mid-summer brings the sweet smells of peaches, cherries, dirt-encrusted cantaloupes, and watermelons of all shades of green.

The chirps and melodies by the birds are fewer in the summer, but their songs provide a soprano soundtrack in the hot, humid air. Summer brings the percussion instruments. The locusts whine, a low rambling hum that reaches a crescendo, slowly dwindles to silence and recycles. The large, annual cicadas emerge from their cocoons and add to the percussion section with a sound that resembles a mechanic’s ratchet. Their relentless beat has earned them the nickname “dog day cicadas.”

At dusk, I can hear the quail (bob white) calling. Only a few chirps and tweets remain as the rest of the birds settle down on their branches or nests for the evening. As darkness falls, the sounds quiet down, the fireflies sprinkle light, the summer heat rises from the pavement and the long day ends, only to repeat itself the next day. 

There is something about summer, its soft, lazy days. But unfortunately, with this heat wave it is best enjoyed when at daybreak and during the comforting summer nights.


Angela Rieck, a Caroline County native, received her PhD in Mathematical Psychology from the University of Maryland and worked as a scientist at Bell Labs, and other high-tech companies in New Jersey before retiring as a corporate executive. Angela and her dogs divide their time between St Michaels and Key West Florida. Her daughter lives and works in New York City.

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, Angela

Governing By Absence: Governor Moore Lands in Sun Valley

July 15, 2025 by Clayton Mitchell
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“‘Cause I’m leavin’ on a jet plane
Don’t know when I’ll be back again…”

  • John Denver (“Leaving on a Jet Plane”)

They call it Billionaires Summer Camp. Tucked away in the rarefied air of Sun Valley, Idaho, the annual gathering of moguls, media titans, and monied elites is a weeklong networking bonanza for the ultra-wealthy. That is where Governor Wes Moore spent last week with his family in tow, while Marylanders opened their electric bills in stunned disbelief, sweating through the heat of July and the heat of a budget crisis his administration refuses to confront.

While Moore rubbed elbows with Jeff Bezos and other billionaires discussing tech investments and personal branding, back in Maryland his government was unraveling. Maryland’s Transportation Secretary, Paul J. Wiedefeld, announced this past week that he will step down from his position effective August 1. This was not a scheduled transition or a quiet retirement. It is the kind of departure that raises red flags about internal dysfunction, looming failures, or sheer exhaustion with the direction, or lack thereof, of state leadership.

For those keeping score, there have now been five Cabinet-level departures under Moore. That is not just turnover. That is instability. It is a clear sign that all is not well inside the walls of the Government House, even if the press releases pretend otherwise. The Moore administration has barely passed the halfway mark of its term, yet its inner circle looks like a game of musical chairs.

In addition, Maryland Labor Secretary Portia Wu warned that the state’s Unemployment Insurance Trust Fund may be in danger of insolvency, with federal workers and contractors being laid off amid uncertainty in Washington. This is not some hypothetical crisis. It is a flashing red warning sign that thousands of Maryland businesses could be left with higher unemployment taxes if the economy sours. 

And once again, while the alarm bells were ringing, Moore was in Idaho sipping cocktails with financiers.

Meanwhile, state agencies face hiring freezes. School districts are staring down Blueprint mandates they cannot afford. And Maryland families? They are getting battered. 

Electric rates, driven higher by Moore’s ill-conceived energy policies and our increased dependence on out-of-state power, have left residents stunned. Some Marylanders have told me their bill had nearly doubled compared to the same time last year. My electric bill was up 25%.  But Moore would not know. He was not here.

It is the start of a new fiscal year, and the budget is already fraying. Moore’s idea of fiscal discipline is smoke and mirrors. The Rainy-day fund is draining. The structural deficit continues unabated. What is the administration’s solution? Raise taxes again, push the burden onto counties, and hope the federal government bails us out. This is not a strategy… it is desperation wrapped in press releases and photo ops.

What message does it send when the Governor flees to a luxury retreat while his state teeters on financial instability? It tells us exactly who he is. 

Wes Moore is more comfortable with the Davos set than with working families in Dundalk, Salisbury, and Lexington Park. He is fluent in the language of venture capital, not the realities of paycheck-to-paycheck life. His presidential fantasy has taken hold of him while Maryland is left holding the bill.

Moore loves to say, “leave no one behind”, but last week, he left all of Maryland behind. He left us behind for the billionaires, for the backslapping and keynote panels, for the glint of cameras and canapés on white tablecloths. 

If you are wondering whether he paid for the trip himself or if donors chipped in, good luck getting a straight answer. Transparency is not exactly a hallmark of the Moore administration.

We have seen enough. Wes Moore promised transformation. Instead, we have gotten vanity, virtue signaling, and vaporware. Maryland deserves better than a Governor who escapes to the mountains every time the temperature rises at home.

The cameras may still be rolling, but the people of Maryland are steadily tuning out the Wes Moore Show.

Clayton A. Mitchell, Sr. is a life-long Eastern Shoreman, an attorney, and former Chairman of the Maryland Department of Labor’s Board of Appeals.  He is co-host of the Gonzales/Mitchell Show podcast that discusses politics, business, and cultural issues. 

 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, Clayton

From Motels to the Mandarin by Katherine Emery

July 15, 2025 by Kate Emery General
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When we were first married, my husband (who flew First Class with his parents and stayed at The Hotel Del Coronado and The Royal Hawaiian as a child) professed his love for “cheesy” motels, a revelation that surprised me, but I chalked it up to his love of Hunter S. Thompson. One of our first weekend adventures together was a bike ride on the Mt. Vernon Trail. In preparation, we checked into one of the oldest motels in Alexandria.

The toilet seat was secured with a paper ribbon of questionable authority, and the water glasses sat dismally in their individual clear paper sacks. The room was tiny, barely big enough to fit a double bed, let alone two people and their bike helmets. I was instantly repulsed, but I did my best to stay cheerful. Love, after all, sometimes asks for sacrifices… even in the form of questionable accommodations.

Thankfully, we spent very little time in the room. We rode the trail, showered quickly, and headed into town to meet friends for oysters and laughter. By the end of the night, I had almost forgotten the cracked tiles and flickering lightbulbs.

After a year of adventurous overnights in various questionable motels, each with its own flickering light, mismatched bedspread, and mysterious plumbing, I decided it was time to show my husband the other end of the lodging spectrum. For his birthday, I booked a weekend at The Ritz in Crystal City.

From the moment we arrived, the experience was different. We were greeted with glasses of champagne at check-in. Our room featured a sprawling king-sized bed, and the marble bathroom offered both a steam shower and a deep soaking tub. It was five-star pampering at its finest, and just like that, Matt joined me in my love of luxury hotels.

As the years passed, we upgraded our escapes. We treated ourselves to weekends at the Mandarin Oriental in Washington, D.C., complete with visits to the museums, time at the serene hotel spa, and unforgettable dinners at CityZen—Eric Ziebold’s exquisite restaurant, which he brought to life after his time at The French Laundry.

We also became fans of Kimpton’s boutique hotels sprinkled across D.C., each with its own personality, chic decor, and inviting restaurant. The happy hours were stellar, the service warm, and the locations perfect for a weekend of walking and sightseeing.

In New York City, our hotel tastes evolved with our travels. We spent nights at the iconic Waldorf, the bustling Grand Hyatt, and the ever-energetic Marriott in Times Square, each one adding to our shared collection of urban memories.

The summer of her fifteenth year, our daughter Cece, an aspiring dancer with beauty, grace, and fierce determination, was accepted to a prestigious dance camp at Hofstra University. After dropping her off and giving her one last wave, Matt and I found ourselves unexpectedly free for the weekend.

“Where should we go?” we wondered aloud, still a little dazed from the emotional whirlwind of letting go. Matt’s dad, John, had once mentioned Oyster Bay on Long Island. A quick search revealed promising wineries and quaint coastal vibes, we were sold.

We booked the last available room at what was generously described as a waterfront motel. Matt went inside to check us in and came back, not with a keycard, but with an actual key attached to a two-by-four block of lumber. I blinked. He blinked. “Well,” he laughed, “it’s late.”

The room itself was a time capsule. The fluorescent lighting buzzed and flickered with the enthusiasm of an interrogation room. The shag carpeting, straight out of the 1970s, had many stories to tell. Behind what appeared to be a wardrobe was a kitchenette, complete with a two-burner stove and a dusty coffee pot. The coffee grounds were pre-packed in foil pouches, possibly from the Carter administration.

The air conditioning was broken, replaced by a valiant old box fan propped in the window, rattling like it was clinging to life. The only thing missing was a chalk outline of a body on the floor, and even that felt like it could have been there the night before.

And yet, as with so many of our adventures, we made it work. We found a local spot serving lobster and crisp white wine, and returned to the motel just in time to catch the local news on a black and white TV. It worked, but only if one of us stood near it, holding the foil-wrapped rabbit ears just so.

For Cece’s first Thanksgiving away from home, we found ourselves in London, more specifically, at a Comfort Inn in Notting Hill. The Expedia photo had promised a charming boutique hotel nestled among elegant townhouses. In reality, we arrived at what could generously be called a well-worn establishment.

Our room was equipped with twin beds, a wobbly clawfoot bathtub strung with a sagging clothesline, and a TV no bigger than a lunchbox. There was a single window, but it didn’t open. The decor was an odd mix of floral carpet and suspicious lighting. Still, we were in London, and that counted for something.

Thankfully, the trip itself was wonderful. We explored endlessly, feasted on delicious meals, and marveled at all the sights that made London feel both grand and familiar. Matt particularly loved the London cabs, each one with a driver with a huge personality. Matt adapted to British currency very quickly (I, on the other hand, never fully recovered from the exchange rate.)

The pub in the hotel’s tiny lobby became a cozy spot to regroup. Matt befriended the bartender, who used tiny silver tongs to place exactly three cubes of ice into each of our water glasses, with the precision of a jeweler. It became part of our evening ritual.

One night, we asked for the non-smoking section at a restaurant. The hostess led us to a table in the center of the room. As we sat down, we realized that the only non-smoking thing about it was our request, every other table around us was filled with families smoking joyfully, children and grandparents alike puffing away in a festive haze.

It wasn’t the Thanksgiving of tradition, but it became one of those stories we would tell for years. And somehow, the uncomfortable beds, the smoky dinners, and the lunchtime-sized television made it all the more memorable.


Kate Emery General is a retired chef/restaurant owner who was born and raised in Casper, Wyoming. Kate loves her grandchildren, knitting, and watercolor painting. Kate and her husband, Matt are longtime residents of Cambridge’s West End where they enjoy swimming and bicycling. 

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, 9 Brevities

Thoughts on the Texas Flash Floods by David Reel

July 14, 2025 by Dave Wheelan
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The recent flash flood tragedy in central Texas resulted in seeing the best and the worst of American society.

The best has been an outpouring of sympathy, caring, and support for the flood victims, their families, and the survivors. There have been countless reports of selfless rescue and recovery efforts by first responders and volunteers, some from well beyond the immediate flooded area.

The worst has been numerous messages on social media and other media platforms, e.g., a newspaper editorial cartoon that were vile, hateful, and some of which were vulgar.

Many of them chose to blame Trump supporters or policy decisions of the Trump administration for this tragedy.

Far too many did not include expressions of sadness or sympathy for the deaths of innocent children and adults, or compassion for the lifelong impact on all the flooding survivors.

The level of vitriol in these messages is so offensive, I will not repeat any of them in this column.

The only thing they have in common is they are devoid of any sense of decency and civility.

Somewhat surprising has been dismay and even outrage expressed from unexpected sources over these vile messages.

Nina Turner is a former national co-chair for the Bernie Sanders 2020 presidential campaign.

She recently said, “It takes a serious lack of humanity to see children to be in a politicized discussion and respond something like lines of “that’s what they [voters in Texas] voted for.”

Turner’s closing one word comment says it all — “Shameful.”

John Favreau and Tommy Vietor are co – hosts on the left of center, Pod Save America.

Both worked for Barack Obama prior to and during his presidential administration.

Both have condemned social media posts that blame local Texans and the Trump administration for all who died as a result of the recent floods.

Favreau has said, “I think the really gross stuff was, I saw some people be, like, ‘Well, Texas, you voted for Trump, and this is what you get. ‘”

Favreau has also challenged suggestions that staffing levels at the National Weather Service (NWS) in Texas had anything to do with the tragedy. Favreau has said, “It seems like the National Weather Service, like I said, did send out a timely warning, it just didn’t get to people. And that’s, you know, not the Trump administration saying that independent meteorologists and experts have all said this.”

Vietor has said that while questions about the effect of NWS cuts could be “an important question going forward, I could have done without the, like, instant, you know, leap to blame name-your-political-opponent for this tragedy on Twitter.”

The “blame your political opponent” campaign on this tragedy is already well underway.

Shortly after news broke on the flooding, Senator Chuck Schumer demanded the Commerce Department’s Inspector General investigate vacancies at National Weather Service offices and whether the purported vacancies resulted in a higher death toll in in Texas.

Schumer has suggested that proposed but yet-to-be-implemented Trump budget cuts resulted in unfilled NWS positions in Texas were to blame. Senator Chris Dodd has said likewise.

Schumer has proclaimed, “The American people deserve answers.”

Yes, we do, but not from you two or anyone who has wants to advance a political agenda from this tragedy.

We deserve answers only if the following investigative guidelines are agreed to, in advance of, and are strictly adhered to during every phase of any investigation.

At a minimum, the investigation must not focus on assigning blame for what happened or did not happen with regard to timely and effective flash flood alerts.

The laser like focus must be on what can be done going forward to help ensure it never happens again.

Differing opinions must be welcome and considered provided they follow the timeless observation of former U.S. Senator Daniel Patrick Moynihan, who once said, “Everyone is entitled to their own opinions, but not their own facts.”

We also need to accept that we never have and never will live in a risk-free world.

We can only anticipate risks and take prudent steps to try to avoid them or deal with them if and when necessary. Accidents can never be totally avoided despite planning and best intentions.

Going forward, we desperately need a renewed universal commitment that when tragedies do strike, to make sure social media posts and other public reactions reflect common decency and respect for each and every person impacted in any way by that tragedy.

This is especially vital in dealing with those who hold different political party affiliations or different views on a wide range of public policy issues.

We must do so if we have any hope of reversing the steadily declining levels of decency and civility in our society.

David Reel is a public affairs and public relations consultant who live in Easton.

The Spy Newspapers may periodically employ the assistance of artificial intelligence (AI) to enhance the clarity and accuracy of our content.

Filed Under: 3 Top Story, David

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