Making Sense Of Place

Beautiful Cape Elizabeth….

I’m seeing another state.

We’re in the early stages of a relationship, but I can see myself getting serious about Maine.

This summer marked 36 years of living in South Florida, with most of that time spent in Delray Beach.

I’ve spent just about my entire adult life in Florida and the Sunshine State has been very good to me.

I’ve made the greatest friends here; have experienced so much and have learned a lot since leaving New York in July 1987 in a rickety 1978 Toyota Corolla.

Little did I know what was in store for me.

We seldom do.

Life is what happens to you while you’re busy making other plans.

I thought I’d be a newspaper lifer.  I felt it was my calling and I dreamed one day of owning my own paper.

When I sat in the back row in Commission Chambers reporting on Mayors Doak Campbell, Tom Lynch and Jay Alperin, I never dreamt I would do that job.

In fact, I used to joke around with former Boca News reporter Darcie Lunsford that she would be mayor one day. I volunteered to be her campaign manager. (P.S. Darcie would have made a fine mayor.)

But life is strange in so many ways. It’s the twists and turns that add flavor. The twists and turns….

I turned 59 Saturday. The same age my mother was when she passed.

That number has weighed on me since she died in 1998.

She was young when we lost her; but now that I’ve gotten to this age it feels odd. The truth is at 59 you feel old and young all at once—hard to explain, but if you know, you know.

By this time in life, you’ve travelled a lot of miles, seen many things, and learned and re-learned a bunch of lessons. Life could look completely different in three years, three months, or even three days. That’s the terrifying and beautiful thing about being human.

Yes, perhaps the most profound lesson is how fast life can change. Three years ago, I felt a little tired. I took a Covid test at Bethesda and that night I was in a fight for my life that would last 39 days.

Who knew from bats, Wuhan and pandemics?

Three weeks ago, we lost Carl DeSantis, a wonderful soul who changed the lives of so many people; me included.

And so, I am reminded about the role that serendipity plays in our lives. I had no idea that someone whose vitamins my dad sold in his pharmacy would play such a large role in my life.

When I gassed up that old Toyota in Binghamton, N.Y. I had no idea what awaited me. I just wanted sunshine, palm trees and to live near my best friend. I got that and more.

I tasted local politics, helped run a beverage company, worked in public relations, was founding editor of a local magazine, did a whole lot of consulting and even co-owned a local newspaper for a while.

I’ve loved it all.

Along the way, I took a deep dive into the community. I got involved with a capital I.

Education, economic development, business, the arts, and health care—I learned a little bit about a whole lot.

And I fell in love with this place. I fell hard.

Most of my activities were in Delray, but I’ve also been involved in Boca, Boynton, Palm Beach County, Broward County and in statewide organizations such as Leadership Florida and the Florida Redevelopment Association.

I list these things to encourage you to get involved in the community. It’s your community and we all need to pay our civic rent.

My experiences through the years have been rewarding in ways that I could never adequately quantify. I’ve met just about all my Florida friends by getting involved. So if you aren’t involved in something, you may want to consider volunteering. It makes the world a lot less lonely and infinitely richer.

That said, I find myself needing and seeking both more and less.

Let me explain.

I want more time with loved ones.

I want more time working on fewer projects that have deeper meaning.

And I want less quantity and more quality.

I also want to experience other places— namely Maine.

I’m seeing Maine—for bits and pieces of time—the greater Portland area to be specific, and I find myself falling in love with a place all over again.

Oh, I still have fidelity to the sunshine. I still love the Florida sky, the beautiful sunsets and walks with our dogs along Lake Ida on mornings when it’s not scorching hot outside.

I take great pride in the evolution of Delray Beach and the role my friends and civic heroes played in our city’s success.

Despite the stifling heat, rising cost of living and ridiculous politics you find in Florida, I still feel the good outweighs the bad. Those palm trees and mild winter temperatures will always thrill this native New Yorker.

But I want to see other cities too.

About two years ago, we bought a cozy little townhouse in a wooded section of Portland not far from Old Port. It was a post Covid promise we made to ourselves. Sort of a “tomorrow is here” recognition of life’s frailty.

I recently spent a few blissful weeks there enjoying cool breezes, lighthouses, the rugged coastline and squirrels the size of big cats. These are precious days spent with the love of my life, family and friends.

I love the small villages of Biddeford, Saco, Bath and the Kennebunks which ooze charm and character.

I like getting lost in the huge cemetery up the street that has gravestones dating to the Revolutionary War.

And frankly, I like not knowing anyone other than a few neighbors and the kind strangers you bump into along the way.

I still can’t look at a lobster or eat a steamer, but I sure love Allagash beer.

It feels good to explore a new part of the world. To learn the stories, read the history and wonder about the visionaries who made this place all that it is.

I have no desire to get involved here. But I do want to explore.

I want to experience this place. Then maybe, just maybe, I’ll pay some civic rent.

I’m not talking about starting a “Save Portland” Facebook page, but maybe I’ll change my status to “in a relationship with Delray and Portland.”

Wherever you are, I hope you fall in love.

Thanks for reading.

Bill Fay Jr.

Note: Delray lost another local treasure with the passing last week of Bill Fay, the retired principal of Banyan Creek Elementary School. I adored Bill. His humor, his love of children and his passion for education. He was a good man—despite his admiration for the Boston Red Sox (only kidding). As a New Yorker and a Yankee fan, you would have thought that his affinity for Boston sports would have been a deal breaker for the two of us.  But Bill proved that oil and water can mix. He gave me the business when his Sox were riding high, and I loved him for it.

When Bill retired in 2015, I wrote the following blog http://yourdelrayboca.com/the-one-the-only-bill-fay/

If you don’t want to click through, I’ll leave you with this thought from the blog: “Every now and again in this world you run into a larger-than-life figure.

Someone whose spirit lights up the room and whose humor, intelligence and warmth make you feel like you’ve known him forever.

Bill Fay is that kind of guy. In fact, he’s the epitome of that kind of man.”

At the time, I wished Mr. Fay decades of life to enjoy his family and legion of friends. Alas, he got less than a decade. I wish he had more time. I adored that man. He made a difference for generations of children. Rest in Peace my friend.

Both Sides Now

What do you see in those clouds?

“Rows and floes of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I’ve looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall

I really don’t know clouds at all.”

Those lyrics from the Joni Mitchell classic were in my head these last few weeks when I spent some time exploring idyllic small towns in Maine. I’m not really sure why, I haven’t heard the song in years but there it was as I found myself in Kennebunkport which is impossibly beautiful, Boothbay Harbor which teems with charm, Bath which bills itself as Maine’s coolest little city (and just may be), Brunswick with the bucolic Bowdoin College and Cape Elizabeth whose beauty defies description.

In a word, Maine is enchanting, and I find myself falling in love with a place all over again  and realizing that “place” as a concept means a lot to me.

Of course, people are paramount  (with golden retrievers a close second) but place is up there in importance —at least for me.

I’ve been here for a month and that’s enough time to see a few nooks and crannies and to think “hey, this place feels good.” I can see myself spending time here. It’s a good place.  And place is important.

I’m coming back to Delray this week and that’s good too. I’ve never done anything like this before —working remotely so far away from home—but post Covid I’m ready to live life and ready to shake it up a little. I’m ready to indulge some dreams.

If not now, when?

After all, I love it when friends pursue their passions.

My childhood friend  Joe is a nationally ranked “one wheeler” in his age group and loves the sport. He lights up when he talks about his experiences on trails and hanging with the one wheel community.

Another buddy  Ben just came back from a  bike trip in Europe—50 miles a day —and while the mere thought of that makes me sore, Ben would and could do 100 miles a day if he could. He’s always been an adventurer.

While I was looking at clouds on Casco Bay my brother from another mother Scott was coaching baseball and recently took his champion Virginia based team to a major tournament in Tallahassee. They didn’t win, but they are still champs and I’m certain Scott is a great coach just like his dad was; they had a passion for baseball and people too.  That’s an unbeatable combination.

Me, I like to write and explore  places and topics  that interest me.

I came to Maine to fulfill a vow I made to myself when I had a serious case of Covid that landed me in the ICU two years ago.

It’s time to start living—time to see the other side of those clouds that Joni sings about.

Those clouds can get in the way or they can be anything you want them to be.  Two years ago they rained on me pretty hard leaving me alone with my thoughts, hopes, fears and dreams.

I realize I’m privileged to have this experience and fortunate to work for a company that values quality of life and family.

I spend my days grateful for so many things; the beauty that surrounds me, the love I get to enjoy with my wife, family and friends and the simple pleasure of being able to breathe freely again.

This time of year I relive my Covid experience and remember when I could barely draw a breath. Yes, I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now.

Most of us have by the time we hit a certain age. Because while life is precious and beautiful, there’s just no escaping the tough times.  Nobody goes through this life unscathed.

Which brings me back to the concept of place.

Here I enjoy the woods, the rocky coast, the pristine Casco Bay, the architecture and the history.  I also enjoy the kindness.  People here are very nice even through we’re “from away” and even though I’m driving a Subaru with Florida plates.  (P.S. every other car here is a Subaru it’s uncanny).

But as I get ready to return to Delray, my home now for 35 years, I look forward to those Florida sunsets, the magnificent skies and even the cloud bursts that mark our endless summer months. I love Florida and value my now 35 years in the ever changing Sunshine State.

But I do wish more would love her too.

One thing I’ve noticed in Maine is a fierce sense of civic pride.

Mainers love this place, Portlanders really love Portland and in nearby Biddeford they are planning some really special things and they are excited to tell the world.

That’s the vibe everywhere we wandered.

When I visited a store in Kennebunkport the young proprietor told me that many of her friends were returning home to do “cool things.” That’s how it should be, I thought to myself. That’s what you want to hear about a place.

And I thought, you know, we’re kind of tough on Boca and Delray aren’t we?

We complain…a lot.

Too much this and too much that and yes there are serious issues. But…you know what? We live in a magical and cool place. We really do.

Joni was on to something. Maybe we need to look harder to see both sides now.

 

Homeward Bound

Beautiful Port Jefferson, N.Y.

This is a hyperlocal blog focused primarily on Delray Beach and Boca Raton.
But we also focus on cities, leadership, entrepreneurship and the general notion of community; what it means and how to build it.

So in the spirit of exploration I wanted to share with you some thoughts after a recent and all too brief trip “home” to the Port Jefferson/Setauket/Stony Brook area.
It’s where I grew up on eastern Long Island after being born and spending a few years in Queens.

It’s a beautiful area, magical in so many ways.

The older areas are truly historic with buildings dating to the late 1690s and early 1700s.
The area played a key role in the Revolutionary War with George Washington’s Setauket spies doing important work to defeat the British. Those days were recently depicted in a TV series and information about the spy ring is written on plaques and available on apps that give an oral history of the area.

We never lived in the historic parts of these towns, although we appreciated the older homes, wooded environments and colonial architecture.

My family and most of my friends lived in Levitt Homes, tract housing developed by the builder who invented suburbia after World War II.

Today, those homes are 50 years old plus and when I drove to see  a few of our old house (we moved around a lot) I could see the age on what was once so new. I enjoyed seeing the mature trees and for the most part the Levitt “sections” –as they were called— have held up well.

They are lovely in their own way and each street is filled with memories of community back when neighbors knew each other and when kids played outside until dark.

It was a magical time and we lived in a magical place. And as I shared with a best friend who grew up there with me, I’m grateful for the time spent here and saddened by the time that has passed.
I’m not sure when I will come back to Stony Brook. But I’m pretty sure that I will.

I feel very connected to the place.

It is and will always be home. The place where I went to school, where I lived with my parents and sister, where my grandparents (long gone but never forgotten) visited and where I met the best friends I’ve ever had and we experienced life’s adventures for the first time.

School days and favorite teachers and first crushes.
Parties and bar mitzvahs.
Little League, pick up basketball, stickball and football.
First cars, first loves, first everything.
Then, one day it ends.

And you go off—as you should– to explore new places, new experiences and new people.
But you never completely leave home and the experiences and the people that shaped you.

These are the people who support you, challenge you, push you and pick you up when you stumble and fall—as we all do.
I felt compelled to come home when I turned 40 and wanted to show a new love where it was that I came from. I thought if she saw the places that accompanied the stories and the personal history that we would grow closer and I think we did. I was also anxious to visit her hometown, Clairton, PA., a hardscrabble kind of place that explains a lot about who she became.

Fourteen years later, almost to the day, I felt compelled to return to my hometown.
I’m not sure why. Maybe its just important to touch —albeit briefly—your roots.
Your roots are what center and ground you.

I guess I needed a dose of home.