Your Delray Boca

I’m a lucky man.

In my life, I’ve had four women take my breath away.

Three of those women were in their 60s, 70s and 80s when they reached into some place deep in my soul and left me breathless; proof that time makes the best people even better.

The fourth woman I married and like a fine wine…well… just say life’s gotten better as we’ve aged.

Those women were H. Ruth Pompey, Elizabeth Wesley, Frances Bourque and my wife Diane.

How many men can make such a claim?  And when I tell you there are others who set fire to my mind, I’m telling the truth. I’m looking at you Susan Ruby, Lula Butler, Nancy Stewart- Franczak and Jen Costello-Robertson. And there are others too. I’m a very lucky man. My Valentine’s well is deep.

Shakespeare said it best: “the earth has music for those who listen.”

I’ve learned to listen.

But even if you are tone deaf, there are those who are so special that you are compelled to listen; you have no choice but to listen.

Here’s how it happens.

When I first met Hattie Ruth Pompey, I was 23 years old and new to Delray Beach. I was working for the local newspaper and anxious to learn about my new beat. One day the phone at the newspaper rang and on the other end was the legendary C. Spencer Pompey.

I had heard about Mr. Pompey and his wife when I first started writing about Delray Beach. Mr. Pompey was a civil rights pioneer, a writer, a coach and educator. He was universally respected. Mr. Pompey was a quiet leader, but when he spoke you listened, and it was always worth it.

Mr. Pompey asked me to meet with him and his wife at their home which sat across the street from a park named after them.

I jumped at the chance. I remember being extremely nervous when I knocked on their door.

I was immediately put at ease by Mrs. Pompey when she answered the door and invited me to sit in her living room. For the next several hours, I listened to their stories about Delray Beach, how the beach was integrated, their experiences in the Civil Rights movement and their belief that Delray Beach could be a beacon for a better America.

It was heady stuff. I soaked it in.

The Pompey’s made it clear that they were meeting with me in the hope that I would stick around their town and use the power of the pen and my position at the time (local reporter) to tell the stories necessary to move our town forward. Again, I was 23. This was a little hard to grasp, but I fell in love with them that afternoon. Their honesty, their depth, their knowledge and their kindness were transforming. I went in as an excited cub reporter and left feeling like I was on an important mission.

My friendship with the Pompey’s continued and looking back it was an apprenticeship of sorts.

When I was elected to the City Commission in 2000, those lessons continued with regular visits and calls. When Mr. Pompey passed, I was asked to speak at his funeral which was  held at Cason United Methodist Church to accommodate the large crowd.

After that honor, I grew closer to Mrs. Pompey and when she got ill a few years later many of us participated in a blood drive to help.

After she recovered, she called me “Cousin Jeff” because she said we now shared our blood and were officially family. She even made a video featuring the cousin routine. That’s   something that I treasure and find myself watching again and again. She took my breath away with her kindness, grace and beauty.

Around the same time as I was enjoying a deepening friendship with the Pompey’s, I got to know and fall in love with Elizabeth “Libby” Wesley.  Many consider Libby the “mother” of Delray.

Libby had a certain something that I’ve never experienced before. I couldn’t get through a conversation with her without fighting back tears—that’s how much she moved me with her words. I don’t know what it was, but she was magic. Perhaps it was her love of people and community. Perhaps it was her faith in this community and her belief in our youth. Whatever it was, touched something very deep inside of me.

Ms. Wesley was an educator, but she was also a visionary. She saw the best in people. She envisioned limitless possibilities.

Libby founded the Roots Cultural Festival and because she was a catalyst, she got everyone involved. Before we knew it, we found ourselves judging conch fritter contests (celebrating Delray’s ties to the Bahamas), attending oratory and math competitions showcasing the ability of our youth and watching NBA prospects compete in the Roots basketball tournament.

Libby was the first to mention to me the concept of the Delray “covenant” which asked elected officials to be cognizant and respectful of their power to empower and help all communities in our diverse city. You either kept the covenant or you broke it. There was no in between.

When I was termed out in 2007, Libby gave me a cassette tape, a gift really. In her beautiful voice she read Langston Hughes’ poem “Mother to Son.” I got the message. And once again, she got me all vaklempt (look it up). Again.

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

That poem….

Oh, how I miss Libby.

Which brings me to Frances Bourque.

Frances is a friend, a mentor, a heroine, an inspiration and someone who is always there for the people she loves. I’m one of her “guys” —I think there are five or six of us—and we are lucky to be in this group.

Frances founded Old School Square, but to my mind, she was the catalyst who ignited all of Delray and brought it back from the bleak days of the 80s.

We often forget, but Delray was dull, blighted, crime riddled and struggling in those days. However, Frances saw a gem in a dilapidated old school at the corner of Atlantic and Swinton. Could there be a better location in which to jumpstart a town?

The prime location was marred by a chain link fence and a crumbling campus that symbolized our town in those days. But Frances saw potential and sparked a movement to create a community based cultural arts center that enabled us to bond, plan, grow close, hear each other out and move forward.

Old School Square is where we met to celebrate and plan the future.  It was also a place where we gathered to mourn—together.

After 9/11. When we discovered that several of the terrorists were living in our town.

After the Jerrod Miller shooting which was 20 years ago this month.

We gathered there to celebrate our All America City wins and plan our downtown.  We met annually for town hall meetings and held the visioning sessions that put our city on the national map.

Those plans—Visions 2000, the Downtown Master Plan, the Cultural Plan—created the momentum that built economic and social value. The specifics are long forgotten, the process too, but the value created endures. Yes, it lasts.

The relationships endure too. They carve a story in our hearts. The special people change our lives.

Some day I will write a book about Diane, the woman I married. We are still writing the chapters so it will have to wait, but I am writing it all down in my heart. Every bit of it. She also contributed to the evolution of Delray, in a big way as Director of Planning and as CRA director. Every day I count my blessings. Every day I give thanks.

Ruth, Libby, Frances and Diane. That’s a pretty good roster of amazing women.

My wish is that you think back on the special people in your lives and savor every moment with those who fill your heart and take your breath away.

Happy Valentine’s Day.