What did Willie Mays and Donald Sutherland have in common? Nothing.

Except an overriding desire to excel in each’s craft.

Mays was a true wonder to watch as he dominated baseball with an innate ability to hit well, exhibit acrobatic feats in centerfield and steal bases. His glove work in the wide expanse of centerfield was something to behold.

Mays was the whole package, a star in the baseball constellation. He embodied an unparalleled flair.

Sutherland was an oddball actor with huge ears who filled the cinematic screen with artistic antics that drew audiences to his idiosyncratic roles. Who can forget his acting in “The Dirty Dozen” or “M.A.S.H.”?

Sutherland carved out his persona, not as a leading man, but as a first-team supporting actor. He, too, was special.

Both died this week. Mays was 93. Sutherland was 88.

Three friends in their late 70s, two raised in and around New York City and the other in Oklahoma City, engaged enthusiastically in email chatter this week about Mays and his amazing athleticism. The baseball nostalgia was infectious( and devoid of politics). Periodically I would interject, in vain, to effuse about Cal Ripken and Brooks Robinson in “who’s the best in baseball annals?”

Mays was the emailers’ primary choice. I watched from the digital sidelines. Memories of heroes fade, but not disappear.

One of my NYC friends shared a story about a visit that Willie Mays made to this friend’s former elementary school in 1973. I suppose it ran in a school magazine. The short narrative was more about the school cook, who had dated Mays, a Harlem native, in their teens, than about the baseball great. She dominated the welcome party and the gracious Mays’ attention.

As Hawkeye Pierce in M.A.S.H., a movie set in Korea during the Korean War, Sutherland portrayed a gifted surgeon who irreverently flouted Army rules while pursuing nurses with abandon. His devil-may-care attitude and prankish behavior masked his hatred of war. He had no respect for authority.

While Mays sought perfection, Sutherland mastered the art of humor. If a movie were a canvas filled with bright colors and dark clouds, Sutherland sought to project an off-color presence, a thorn in the side of conventional conduct.

Had Sutherland performed in a baseball movie, he would have faced the pitcher dressed outlandishly, brandishing a bat as if it were a sword to puncture the deadly serious duel between the batter and the hurler.

Modern-day baseball offers amazing athletes to the appreciative public. But few, if any, measure up to the incomparable Willie “Say Hey” Mays.

The world of commercial film, informed by talented actors, is bereft of an iconic performer like Donald Sutherland. He was determined to imbue his characters with the vision of creative directors and his inimitable style.

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 his commencement speech on May 19 at Brandeis University, renowned filmmaker Ken Burns identified the real culprit in the poisonous mix of tribal polarization in our nation: us.

We are the enemy of racial, religious and cultural harmony in our not so united country. We expend unproductive time demonizing “others,” those people who think, look and act differently.

We find ourselves shackled by self-imposed chains and barriers, unwilling to see the goodness of others who simply disagree with us. They become “them.” They become our enemies. If friends and family, they become estranged, emotionally, if not physically pushed aside.

I am guilty too. I wish it wern’t so. But truth hurts.

In email traffic with treasured friends, politics emerges as a treacherous battleground. When right-wing friends offer their conservative thoughts to me, I sometimes lash out. I add fuel to an already boiling cauldron of opposing perspectives.

I regret my angry response. I fail to respect another viewpoint. I forsake my predilection for civility. I set a verbal trap for myself and find it inescapable momentarily. I first apologize to myself and then to my friend.

Tribal thoughts enslaved me. I added to the destructive dialogue that engulfs our country.

In his 21-minute speech, Burns said, “But it is clear as individuals and as a nation, we are dialectically preoccupied. Everything is either right or wrong, red state or blue state, young or old, gay or straight, rich or poor, Palestinian or Israeli, my way or the highway.

“Everywhere we are trapped by these old, tired binary reactions, assumptions, and certainties.”

“Othering” is a national disease as insufferable as a pandemic. It afflicts the soul. It hardens sensitivities. It blocks us from listening and liking. It is easier to hate and harass. We find it difficult, if not impossible to understand and respect a person who dares to voice a political or cultural opinion that conflicts with ours.

Consequently, we isolate ourselves. Our tribal connections strengthen. Our ties to proponents of counter-arguments weaken. We fail to build or sustain relationships.

If one listens, wisdom does flow from commencement speeches, a rite of passage for graduates, their parents, siblings and friends. I enjoy them. The candor is refreshing.

I listened to Burns on YouTube. He hit a home run for this oft-impatient consumer of information.

As a filmmaker of documentaries such as “The Civil War,” “Benjamin Franklin,” “Hemingway,” “The Viet Nam War” and “Baseball,” he understands our imperfect human condition.

Good and bad.

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.

As the school year has ended for U.S. colleges and universities, I hope that academic leaders closely examine their culture of tolerance and codes of conduct. Their decisions will be telling, if not determinative of the future.

Protests,  encampments, anti-semitism and poor behavior have marked schools throughout the country. Local police have had to intervene. Congressional committee members grilled Ivy League presidents with lack of disrespect and disdain.

Some alumni foreswore their loyalty and donations. They publicly castigated the colleges and universities they presumably loved.

Though I have found alumni reaction misguided, if not arrogant, I understood why lack of leadership in condemning anti-semitism and protecting the safety of Jewish students rankled alumni. My fealty, however, is rock-solid, though shaken a bit.

At my alma mater, the University of Pennsylvania, I gladly received as an alumnus, actionable recommendations to create a climate of tolerance toward Jews, Palestinians, African Americans, Asians and students of other creeds. I was disappointed to learn, however, from a campus official that the newly revised code of conduct, a foundational necessity, would not require a signature for reasons known only to lawyers.

During orientation for all new students, it must be the first order of business. It cannot be a nice sidebar. Call it an honor code, call it an acceptance of common values. It requires more than bureaucratic lip service. Not only staffers, but faculty, trustees and alumni leaders must sign a document and be accountable for its behavioral standards.

The great nation-builder, Ben Franklin, founded Penn. He injected his well-defined sense of pragmatism into the curriculum. He sought usefulness. I cannot vouch for his affinity for the classics.

I opine that Dr. Franklin, though a revolutionary leader, would have considered the protests and consequent disruption of studious conduct antithetical to an opportunity for intellectual enrichment. Simply, he would have been sorely disappointed. He expected much of himself and others.

Leaders like Ben Franklin are hard to find nowadays. Nonetheless, college and university presidents must display moral clarity and ensure that protests are short-lived, if not prohibited, as is now the case at Penn. For the common good of all students seeking a degree. And in deference to the surrounding community that must endure immature actions.

Some may argue that protests are acceptable on campuses as a pure form of free speech. A natural passage for students trying to express themselves in a visible way. There’s a thought that those being disruptive represent a minority of students.

All true, I suppose.

The corollary then is that it is permissible for a few to interfere with many. A skewed sense of democracy, though arguable.

I recently read that the Johns Hopkins University president negotiated with the student protesters, assuring them that they would have the right to review possible divestment of Israeli defense investments if they dismantled their encampment. I wrote to Ron Daniels, the president, criticizing him for capitulating. He has yet to respond to explain his absurd decision. I suspect he will not.

What do I recommend as an all-knowing Spy columnist to academic leaders?

Act morally. See bigotry for what it is and condemn it. Vigorously defend free speech but prohibit hateful, threatening speech.

College students have unformed minds—feed them knowledge, including unequivocal recognition of right and wrong. Demand accountability and forsake coddling.

Treat alumni with respect but ensure the relationship is not transactional; donations sustain higher education, but not to the point that academic freedom suffers.

While I understand the need to listen to lawyers during a crisis, I question absolute acquiescence to their advice. A strong leader must use his/her own instincts based on experience to make wise decisions. A crisis has many facets, only some of which require legal counsel.

Preparation of the presidents of Harvard, M.I.T., and Penn by a Washington law firm was abysmal. All three offered the same legalistic answers to a gotcha question from Rep. Elise Stefanik (R, NY) concerning anti-Semitic comments voiced on their campuses. The responses were devoid of outrage.

The outcry afterward resulted in the resignations of Claudia Gay (Harvard) and Liz Magill (Penn). Common sense fell victim to inappropriately mechanical replies.

Soul-searching by college and university presidents, as well as board members, is a must to retain credibility for high-level pedagogy and character development.

And for continued support by parents, politicians and alumni. Prestige can fall victim to questionable leadership.

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 bookcase in my home office, filled with the normal clutter and memorabilia (and some books), has a vial of sand.

I look at it daily.

The origin of the sand is Omaha Beach, a scene 80 years ago on June 6, 1944, of the greatest amphibious invasion in military history. The purpose was to crack Adolph Hitler’s insidious grip on Europe.

The assault succeeded. Nazi forces were on the run.

D-Day defines a cloudy day on a serene Normandy, France beach. Nearly 2,500 American troops lost their lives, striking a blow for the restoration of democracy and human rights.

Democracy is still tenuous.

Russia’s dictator, Vladimir Putin, is trying to overrun Ukraine. Should he succeed, he likely will set out to destroy freedom in former Soviet republics that broke away from the authoritarian empire. Putin ruthlessly imprisons and frequently kills his political opponents.

Our vigilance never ceases. It would be foolish to believe otherwise. Putin-types seek power at any human cost.

Today, it behooves us to pay homage to leadership, heroism, and sacrifice that marked a moment of unforgettable history 80 years ago. A vial of sand represents a constant reminder.

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.

Sen. Gary Hart, a rising star in the Democratic Party, was running for president in the 1988 primary when a photo of a woman, not his wife, sitting on his lap on a boat became public. He was cheating on his spouse.

The yacht’s name was “Monkey Business.”

Hart’s campaign and political career ended immediately and unceremoniously. He lost public trust.

Rep. Robert Livingston (R, La.) was preparing to become Speaker of the House in 1999 when reports circulated about his extramarital affairs. Like Hart, his political career hit an immovable roadblock. He too was cheating on his wife.

But the political environment has changed for the worse, as Craig Fuller suggested a few weeks ago in his weekly Spy conversation. He is right, sadly, and sordidly so.

American voters have become more tolerant and forgiving. They care little about a public statement of shame. Careers stay afloat. Everyone is entitled to human weakness and temptation, so the thinking goes.

Standards of behavior have diminished.

Former President Donald Trump’s extramarital escapades and crude sexual references have had no impact. His supporters excuse his awful behavior. When he encounters criticism, he and his disciples play the victim card; liberal elites are at fault for their self-righteous attitudes.

His wife says nothing, at least publicly.

My theory about the change in the voters’ moral judgments combines two elements: distrust and partisanship. And a third factor might be an alarming lack of a middle ground and shared values.

Democrats and Republicans, wealthy and non-wealthy, educated and non-educated, white collar and blue collar, affluent suburban and lower-middle class residents—they view each other as enemies, or at least as polar opposites on the socioeconomic scale.

They mistrust each other. Criticism of tribal members is brushed away.

The wagons not only are circled, but they are also ramparts protecting the wrongdoer. Critics are subject to verbal abuse and threats by zealous supporters.

It appears as if morals and ethics are negotiable. No one norm guides us. Your tribe determines right and wrong. Any other thoughts are disregarded, anathema to the unwritten rules of behavior for a particular group.

Puritanical guidelines for appropriate societal interactions matter little to those who assume a transactional approach to life.

Wrap these tribal differences into right-wing or left-wing political positions, and you find it easy to dismiss others’ opinions as biased and thoughtless. And battle lines harden.

What is especially alarming is the erosion of a universal belief system. Remnants remain.

Since 1898, the motto for the U.S. Military Academy has been “Duty, Honor, Country.” Time-honored concepts for West Point—and our country—they signify the best of our attributes, ones to which we should aspire, whether we are leaders or followers.

We should commit ourselves selflessly to our mission and never waver. We should act honorably and respectfully. And our country comes first in and out of combat. Morals matter.

The motto sounds old-fashioned. Some political leaders often put themselves above the country they are supposed to serve. They act corruptly, accumulating money and power at the expense of morality and honesty. They disparage institutions, such as the judiciary.

Honorable behavior is secondary to winning at all costs. Lying is permissible in pursuit of elective victory and character assassinations.

In a speech on March 27, 2024, in Sioux Falls, SD, David Brooks, New York Times columnist and PBS commentator, talked about the dire condition of American society.

He referred to a survey that said that 71 percent of youth believe that people would take advantage of them if possible, and 80 percent opine that most people care only about themselves.

The country suffers from a spiritual crisis, Brooks believes. He proposes a solution.

‘Our every day actions are how we rebuild our country,’ Brooks said. ‘It is not naive to lead with trust. It is not naive to lead with curiosity. It is not naive to lead with genuineness. You will be betrayed. You will be hurt. But it is worth it.’

Should American voters restore a sense of trust and respect, they would view moral and honorable behavior as a signpost for voting and living.

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.