Parris Glendening

RICHARD C. Mike Lewin was anxious in October 2000 when he joined Gov. Parris N. Glendening for a lobster lunch at Government House, the rust-brick Georgian home of the governor in Annapolis. The Nasdaq stock market had plunged more than 30 percent, from 5,049 to less than 3,500, during the previous six months. New high-tech companies such as Corvis Corp. and Aether Systems Inc., the economic fountains of youth expected to replace the shriveled smokestack employers, were showing vulnerabilities.

LEST ANYONE forget, this is the day for pushing aside both that fourth helping of turkey giblets and our anxieties about the state of the world, as we utter thanks for our abundant blessings. In time, state budgets will crumble, city homicide rates will tumble, but our column on Things to be Thankful for ... well, it's here to stay (unless it's eliminated in the next round of government downsizing). And so, for the 27th straight Thanksgiving, we offer you a slight pause between the first battle of the drumsticks and the last of the Alka-Seltzer fizzies: a few blessings to count, even in these nervous times.

AS GOV. Parris N. Glendening puts it, "I've got one more week of carefully walking lines." That puts him past Tuesday's election. Then, until inauguration day in January, Glendening will be a genuine lame duck. But if the governor feels bad about being out of the media spotlight after 30 years of public life, he isn't demonstrating it. A smiling, relaxed governor, flashing pictures of his new baby girl, appeared by invitation before the state Board of Education yesterday. He picked up a commendation for his eight years of service to Maryland children and assured the board that his preliminary budget for next year won't sacrifice education, even "non-mandated" programs, most of which are targeted to the poor.

HIS VISIBILITY has diminished since the close of his final legislative session and the start of the campaign to succeed him, but Gov. Parris N. Glendening garnered national attention during a few busy days last week as head of the Democratic Governors' Association. Glendening was in Manhattan on July 22, attending a major Democratic fund-raiser for New York candidates. "The focus was bringing people together, and being focused on the prize," said Ramona Oliver, a spokeswoman for the Democratic governors.

ON THE LAST DAY of his last General Assembly session as governor, Parris N. Glendening made a personal appeal to legislative leaders to restore $8 million to the budget for his signature environmental programs. It was a perfect opportunity for payback. With redistricting done and no projects to dangle, the once-mighty governor was reduced to the supplicant status of a lame duck. After years of wrangling with Glendening over issues great and small, legislative leaders could have told him to take a hike.

TO WATCH C.A. Dutch Ruppersberger with a basketball in his hand is to evoke visions of Tony Siragusa performing Swan Lake. Graceful it is not. Final Four caliber, not a chance. But there was Ruppersberger on Thursday morning, whirling in the pivot and ignoring all cries from the baseline, where Clarence Mitchell IV had a free shot of his own. "I'm open, I'm open," cried Mitchell, the state senator from West Baltimore. Ruppersberger, the Baltimore County executive, seemed utterly oblivious.

DROUGHT? WHAT drought? That seems to be the reaction these days from some of our dimmer citizens, who gaze at Maryland's listless streams and dwindling reservoirs and wonder: "Um, shouldn't there be more water there? Well, yes, Mr. or Ms. Environmentally Aware, there should. So sometime before noon today, the governor will step up to a bank of microphones and, in that wonderfully endearing monotone of his, declare a drought emergency for Baltimore and Central Maryland. Then, according to Mike Morrill, Gov. Parris Glendening's director of communications, the governor will impose a set of mandatory restrictions on water use, which, for the average citizen, basically boil down to this: No outdoor watering except with a hand-held hose or handheld bucket.

ON THE RADIO the other day, Mayor Martin O'Malley offered a tantalizing glimpse into a rosy future. He mentioned Olympic Games in Baltimore in 2012. Let us dream. He talked about economic fallout, such as high-speed trains between here and Washington. Let us dream some more. He mentioned all those people who work in high-priced D.C. but are moving to Baltimore for our cheaper housing, and would be further encouraged with the futuristic high-speed rail. And this is where the dream begins to dissolve.

Maybe he can't be chancellor of the University of Maryland system, but even in this economy, Gov. Parris Glendening can still find plenty of jobs that would bring him the prestige (and the handsome $345,000 paycheck) that position would have. Here are a few suggestions to get him started on a post-gubernatorial job search: * Throw the high, hard one: Take Jason Johnson's spot in the Orioles starting rotation. The kid earned $350,000 last season and could only manage a 10-12 record. * Become an entrepreneur: Set up a charisma consulting business, for example, or open a string of planned-growth putt-putt golf courses in Carroll County.

PEOPLE OFTEN ASK me: When are you going to write an opera about Parris Glendening? To which I respond: Like, never. Let's face it, he's not exactly Scarpia. There's an element of Don Giovanni there but an equal amount of Don Knotts. The governor of Maryland just doesn't give much in the way of operatic inspiration: He split up with his wife. He reportedly hooked up with a younger woman on his staff. But ol' Parris couldn't even do that with drama; a potential five-course feast of scandal never got beyond a dull, little dinner for two at Cracker Barrel.