
The historic (and very beautiful) Delray Beach Playhouse has been giving a voice to local playwrights since 2019.
The hardest thing about writing, for me, is facing the blank page- Octavia Spencer.
Your Guide To The Delray Beach Boca Raton Lifestyle
The historic (and very beautiful) Delray Beach Playhouse has been giving a voice to local playwrights since 2019.
The hardest thing about writing, for me, is facing the blank page- Octavia Spencer.
Brian Wilson’s musical vision inspired generations of people who believed in an Endless Summer and the California Dream.
Brian Wilson was a once in a lifetime talent.
The Beach Boys founder and principal songwriter died June 11. He was 82.
My friends and I saw The Beach Boys in March 1982 at the Westbury Music Fair. (Thanks for the date verification Scott, our group historian).
Brian Wilson was there, a rarity for a musician who was loathe to travel and perform at least at that time. Mr. Wilson wanted to his spend his time in the studio creating songs that have stood the test of time.
When I learned of Brian Wilson’s passing, I fired up Spotify in my Delray office and spent the afternoon typing away as hit after hit played. The music swept me away, conjuring images of beaches, sand, surfing and the promise of an endless summer. It was magical.
My musical bliss was interrupted by a Zoom call with a CEO in the drug discovery business. He was around my age, and we didn’t know each other prior to the call. But we connected over our mutual love for The Beach Boys. That’s the power of rock ‘n’ roll. Good rock n roll anyway.
We didn’t have to say anything. He saw me, I saw him, we realized we were within a few years of each other’s age and we instantly started talking about Brian Wilson’s beautiful music. Good Vibrations indeed.
God Only Knows if we’ll see another songwriter like Brian Wilson. Our generation was blessed with scores of great songwriters, but Brian was at or near the top. Good enough that Paul McCartney felt compelled to answer Pet Sounds with his own masterpiece Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. “We nicked a few ideas” Sir Paul said.
Every generation thinks their era has the best music. But in our case, it was true. The Beatles, The Stones, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Springsteen, Dylan, Neil Young, U2, Seger, Petty, CCR, Paul Simon, the Byrds, Eagles, Joni, Jackson, Bowie, Elton….the list goes on and on.
Of course, there’s some great new music being released but we experienced a gusher of greatness.
Wouldn’t it Be Nice if we could catch a wave and experience some more Good Vibrations.
Thank you Brian Wilson. Turns out our summers aren’t endless, but they sure are unforgettable and the music lives on.
Here’s what Beach Boys lead singer Mike Love had to say about his cousin and band mate.
“ Today, the world lost a genius, and I lost a cousin by blood and my partner in music.
Brian Wilson wasn’t just the heart of The Beach Boys—he was the soul of our sound. From the first time we sang together as kids in my living room, I knew there was something otherworldly in him. His musical gifts were unmatched. The melodies he dreamed up, the emotions he poured into every note—Brian changed the course of music forever.
Our journey together was filled with moments of brilliance, heartbreak, laughter, complexity and most of all, LOVE . Like all families, we had our ups and downs. But through it all, we never stopped loving each other, and I never stopped being in awe of what he could do when he sat at a piano or his spontaneity in the studio.
Brian’s unique artistry and our collaboration gave the world the American dream of optimism, joy, and a sense of freedom—music that made people feel good, made them believe in an endless summer and endless possibilities. It was one of the greatest blessings of my life to experience that creative space with him.
It was our privilege to make the world believe in sunshine, surfing, and teenage dreams. My life was forever changed by Pet Sounds, God Only Knows, In My Room, Good Vibrations, The Warmth of the Sun and a hundred other pieces of his soul wrapped in music. He allowed us to show the world what vulnerability and brilliance sound like in harmony. He was fragile, he was intense, he was funny—and he was one of a kind.
My wife, Jacquelyne, and I are heartbroken. She stood beside me through so many chapters of this story, and we both send our love and prayers to Brian’s family, his children, and all who were touched by his life and gifts.
Brian, you once asked, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older?” Now you are timeless. May you rest in the peace you so deeply deserve, surrounded by the heavenly music you helped create. May your spirit soar as high as your falsetto, may your wings spread in effortless flight.
Thank you for the harmonies, the memories, and the love. Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, Love leaves a memory no one can steal.
I’ll miss you forever, my beloved cousin.
– Mike
Remembering Sonny
Delray Beach lost another contributor June 5 with the passing of Harold “Sonny” Van Arnem.
Mr. Van Arnem was 84.
I’ve known Sonny since the early 90s, and we recently met for lunch a few times to catch up. Sonny was a fascinating guy with a fascinating history in tech, real estate and hospitality. He was always thinking about the future and always looking for innovative ways to make a difference.
Locally, he was active in educational causes and served on the Downtown Development Authority and Chamber Board. He was very proud of the new Hampton Inn he opened on U.S. 1 which was named for his son Adam.
He was a unique man. I will miss seeing him around town. May he rest in peace.
A Fitting Honor
It was wonderful see a post office in Delray Beach renamed to honor Benjamin Ferencz, a Nuremberg war crimes prosecutor, human rights champion and long-time resident of Kings Point in west Delray.
The post office at 14280 S Military Trail was renamed this month. Mr. Ferencz passed away two years ago at age 103. He was a truly remarkable man.
As a war crimes investigator and a Nuremberg prosecutor, Ferencz witnessed the horrifying effects of Nazi crimes. He became convinced that the world can prevent such atrocities only by outlawing and systematically punishing aggressive war and acts of genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes. He devoted his career to creating an international system of justice that protects everyone’s right to live in peace with dignity.
Mr. Ferencz became a celebrated figure around the world. 60 Minutes featured his work in a memorable segment and he was awarded a Congressional Gold Medal.
On October 30, 2023, U.S. Representative Lois Frankel introduced H.R. 6116, a bill to designate the facility of the U.S. Postal Service located at 14280 South Military Trail in Delray Beach, Florida, as the “Benjamin Berell Ferencz Post Office Building.” The bill was signed by President Biden on January 2, 2025.
“Leaders need to be stewards of the things that work and innovators on new initiatives
and the things that are broken. Fix gently with humility.”
I saw this quote recently and I immediately wrote it down.
I can’t find who said it, but I wish I knew because I believe every single word. Especially the gentle part. Especially the humility piece. We are short of both these days.
I think we’ve lost our sense of stewardship and that should alarm all of us.
Being a steward asks us to be responsible with the gifts we’ve been given. Stewardship demands that we take care of the assets we’re tasked to protect.
In business it means we should never endanger the enterprise. In life it means we need to tend to those we cherish and in leadership it means don’t destroy, enhance if you can, but don’t break things that cannot be replaced.
Sadly, I believe we’ve lost the essence of leadership which is service. Too often, “leaders” position themselves as people to be served when their job is to serve others.
The best leaders make us feel safe when they are on the job, not fearful of retribution.
If you think I’m talking about the national situation– I am. But I’ve seen this dynamic play out on the local level too.
It’s a ruinous model.
It chases away the very people you need to build value, it screams stay away when we need to be inviting talent to the cause.
A corollary of this style of “serve me” leadership is the emergence of sycophants.
These are people who overlook every misdeed. They accept every lie, excuse every boneheaded decision and look the other way when lines are crossed. These types only hold the “other side” accountable.
That’s also ruinous.
I’ve seen this dynamic play out locally and nationally as well.
We are in a moment when everything we’ve previously cherished seems to be at risk.
Every ideal, every fact, every value, every bedrock of society seems to be under assault. All at once.
As a result, many of us don’t feel safe. There’s an aching sense that the once firm ground beneath our feet is shifting as if we live in quicksand. We reach for the life raft and a wave carries it away.
I’m reminded of a consultant that Boca and Delray used to use for City Commission goal setting.
Lyle Sumek was a former city administrator turned municipal sage. He travelled the country consulting with large and small cities. He saw what worked and what didn’t. I worked with him for 7 years. I thought his counsel was invaluable.
Lyle taught us the concept of ‘municipal math’ which I also believe applies to states and nations.
Basically, municipal math posits that it can take 20,30, 40 or more years to build something but only a few months to destroy what’s been built. It can take 10-20 years to restore what’s been lost–with no guarantee you’ll be able to do so.
Municipal math is cruel and unfair. It’s also a rock-solid truism. See Square, Old School for a local example.
Hence the need for stewards.
We’ve seen the guys with chain saws and the elected officials who tune out common sense and destroy beloved and valued institutions but the stewards…well they are a rare breed. They may have gone the way of the dodo bird. And that’s a shame. A costly damn shame.
Odd & Ends
Interesting stat:
A recent National Association of Realtors report confirms what many are seeing: the median age of homebuyers continues to rise, with the median buyer now age 56 which qualifies them for AARP benefits. The average repeat buyer rose from 45 in 2004 to over 60 in 2024, so the same generation is still buying the homes 20 years later.
Perhaps most troubling, however, is the rapid increase in age of first-time homebuyers over the past 10 years, which now sits at 38 years old—up from 30 in 2010.
Something has to give folks, an entire generation can’t get started.
Congratulations to former Delray Assistant City Manager Bob Barcinski who received his 40 years of service pin recently from an association of City Managers.
Mr. B. —as he is affectionately known—was a remarkable public servant, a quiet hero behind the scenes of so much progress in Delray Beach. He’s retired now and last I saw him (a week or so ago) he looked relaxed and happy. Well done, my friend.
More congratulations to everyone’s friend Captain Gary Ferreri of the Delray PD.
Capt. Ferreri was named “Supervisor of the Year” at the recent Delray Citizens for Delray Police Gala at the Opal Resort.
Over the past year, Captain Ferreri supervised multiple specialty units—including Vice, Narcotics, Criminal Intelligence, and our Problem Oriented Policing Teams—while also leading the successful rollout of Delray’s new downtown camera system. From securing funding and selecting equipment to managing installation, his work has helped strengthen public safety and modernize our policing infrastructure.
He’s also a great guy so this is extra special to see him being recognized.
I also want to take this opportunity to thank Police Chief Russ Mager for his 29 years of service to Delray.
Russ resigned last week and will be replaced at least on an interim basis by Darrell Hunter, a fine man and officer.
I watched Chief Mager climb the ranks and always respected his dedication to the job and the community. He will be missed and remembered.
There’s a whole lot of “stuff” playing out in both our police and fire departments right now. I’m rooting for cooler heads to prevail. I will say this based on 38 years of closely witnessing the impact the police and fire departments have had on our town. There is no better investment than public safety. None. These are expensive services–I get it—but they are essential services. Whatever you like or enjoy or value about Delray Beach was made possible because people felt safe to invest here. We can lose it, if we are not careful. And remember municipal math is cruel.
Finally, congratulations to Delray’s own Coco Gauff, French Open champion!
I just took a business trip to Washington D.C.
I came back inspired.
Now Washington and inspiration are rarely used in the same sentence these days but I came back full of patriotic fervor—albeit with a dash of melancholy.
First, Washington is a beautiful city.
The office buildings and museums are stunning, the monuments magnificent and the flowers provide an invigorating splash of color this time of year.
It’s fun to walk around and marvel at the sites and to soak up the energy of an important and substantial city.
We took a day trip to Baltimore for a few meetings and the vibe there was decidedly different.
Baltimore is a mystery to me.
It has great “bones” so to speak, row houses, several great universities, a picturesque harbor and a world class hospital. It also suffers from substantial blight, including thousands of abandoned buildings.
Based on its assets, you’d think Baltimore would be thriving, but it struggles. Years after the show ended, it still feels like you’ve arrived on the set of the great HBO series “The Wire.” But hope abides and we visited two amazing foundations hard at work to heal and help Baltimore.
The Annie E. Casey Foundation and the Goldseker Foundation were gracious enough to meet with me and my colleagues at the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation to share their work and best practices. We left energized and educated.
Baltimore has dedicated people who continue to believe. That makes a big difference.
Back in D.C. we met with the wonderful people at the Bainum Family Foundation, the Aspen Institute, the Smithsonian Institution and the National Portrait Gallery to discuss the state of philanthropy, our nation and the possibilities that lie ahead as we gear up to celebrate America’s 250th birthday.
Across town at the Capitol, Congress passed the “big, beautiful bill” at 4 a.m. while we slept. I doubt anyone read all 1,100 pages.
Democrats see the bill as catastrophic. Republicans hailed it as a nation changing (for the better) investment that will lower taxes and increase border security. Two vastly different perspectives that dovetail with the state of our nation these days.
I happened to fly to Washington seated next to my Congresswoman Lois Frankel. It was happenstance. I’ve known Rep. Frankel for a long time. We were mayors together back in the day, Lois in West Palm, me in Delray.
Also, on the plane, surrounded by a phalanx of Secret Service, was Eric Trump. Yes, he flew commercial.
Frankel and Trump—two ends of our national spectrum.
One side believes we are making America great again, the other believes we are in danger of losing our Republic.
Never the twain shall meet, wrote Kipling. Rudyard’s old poem proves prophetic. We are so different it feels like we can never be brought together again. That saddens me, it ought to sadden all of us.
But when we landed, I saw the Washington Monument, the beauty of the Old Executive Office Building, the grandeur of the White House and the magnificence of the Smithsonian. And briefly my melancholy for a more united United States lifted–for just a moment.
We toured the newly built African American History Museum, toured the National Portrait Gallery and met with the men and women who bring these places to life.
We got insights from the head of the Marriott Family Foundation and the president of the National Center for Family Philanthropy who also happened to be the person who shepherded the “Giving Pledge” which is an effort by the nation’s richest to donate their life’s savings to charity upon their deaths. Not every rich person is an oligarch. But the oligarchs seem to get more attention than those who use their money to help people. It seems in vogue to be all out of empathy these days.
But from these philanthropic experts and historians we heard about innovative ways to impact problems, help those in need and move our nation forward.
All are concerned about our current state of polarization and dysfunction, but all are confident that we will have a brighter future.
On our third day in D.C. I awoke to the news that two young Israeli Embassy employees were murdered outside the Capital Jewish Museum, a few blocks from where we were staying.
The news shocked and saddened me. The two young people were known as “bridge builders.” We can hardly afford to lose those willing to extend a hand across the divide. And so, amidst my pride and hope, in crept a feeling of melancholy. Sometimes it can feel crushing.
But the people I had the privilege of meeting are smart, gentle and empathetic individuals dedicating their lives to the betterment of our world.
They are data driven but lead with heart and compassion— as all leaders should.
They are better than our politics.
The best of us serve. The best of us empower. We build up instead of tear down.
So, I hold on to my optimism about the future despite the headwinds which are substantial and at times seemingly intractable. But I also know that until ‘we the people’ demand more from our politics and our parties (both of them) we will never get to the promised land. We will never reach our potential as a nation.
Division, corruption, money, partisanship, chaos and plain old meanness are in the way of what we can be.
We need more independent leaders and far fewer sycophants who put their wallets and careers above the country’s future.
A visit to Washington reminds me of why I love America. I feel blessed to have been born, raised and educated here (thanks to the sacrifices of my immigrant grandparents).
It’s time to insist on a better path forward. America and its people, the world and its people deserve leaders focused on the future not the next political or financial opportunity.
I saw “the other Washington”. It’s full of wonder and possibilities. It deserves the support of those who currently spend their days fighting.
They are endangering the greatest nation this world has ever seen.
Bound for College Founder Mark Sauer seen here with super volunteer Chuck Halberg.
In honor of Memorial Day: “Our debt to the heroic men and valiant women in the service of our country can never be repaid. They have earned our undying gratitude. America will never forget their sacrifices.” – President Harry S. Truman
I was sitting at the bar at the Hay-Adams Hotel in Washington when I got the news.
Granger’s Grille.
Note: This is an early version of the blog. I’m traveling to our nation’s capital next week on business and won’t be at my desk to write and post Monday. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion in your inbox.
I’m going to miss Granger’s.
The iconic restaurant on Federal Highway closed its doors last week with a sad sign off on Facebook thanking patrons for their loyalty.
I’d like to thank Granger’s for their grilled cheese, their turkey burgers and their home-made chips—which were unparalleled. Granger’s Grille felt like the Delray version of “Cheers”—a place where everybody knew your name. We need these kinds of places; in fact we crave them.
It was interesting to see the reaction to the surprise announcement. Lots of regulars expressed genuine sadness at the news and lamented the loss of yet another local staple—and a relatively affordable one at that. Across the border in Boca, I watched a similar reaction to the news that Belzers Hardware announced that it was closing after many decades. Locals talked about shopping at Belzers in the 50s.
We feel these losses somewhere deep in our souls. These places are what make us feel that we’re home.
As for me, I’m still mourning the closure of The Annex in Pineapple Grove—but the loss of Granger’s stings even more.
Granger’s was my “go-to”, an easy answer for lunch, a place where it was easy to park, the wait staff was friendly, and best of all you can always count on finding at least six other friends among the tables.
I was a frequent flier at Granger’s for years—first at their old location near Rex’s Hair Salon (also gone but never forgotten) and later at the new location which was spacious and featured easy and ample parking. I was there at least 1-2 times a week, even during Covid, when they were a great place to pick-up some tasty take-out.
I finally mastered the credit card machine, a considerable accomplishment for a tech luddite such as myself. And while I never made it to rib night, I had planned too. But alas that opportunity has passed unless of course they find a new location and get the band back together. (One can hope).
My friends in the restaurant business tell me times are tough for independent proprietors. Food costs are high, insurance is expensive, the workforce can’t afford to live here and rents are astronomical. There’s also an immense amount of competition. It can’t be easy to fill seats on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, and the summers are long, hot and devoid of snowbirds. It’s hard to know when and if our friends from Canada will return; who can blame them.
But all I know is that places like Granger’s are important.
Life is funny, you never know when your last time doing (fill in the blank) will be. We remember the first times, but we often don’t recognize last times.
My “last time” at Grangers was two weeks ago when I had a chance to have lunch with the legendary Tony Allerton and the soon to be legendary Steve English.
Tony is a long-time friend. He’s a local icon who has literally saved thousands of lives through his work at The Crossroads Club.
Tony is in his 90s now, sharp as a tack and still working.
We share a lot of history and a love for Granger’s, what I call a “great, good place” —a phrase I’m borrowing from Ray Oldenburg.
Mr. Oldenburg is gone now. But he made a great and lasting contribution to our culture. He was an urban sociologist who coined the term “third place” to describe the importance of informal gathering spaces—coffee shops, parks, bookstores, cultural venues and the like.
First place is the home, second place is the workplace, and third places are the anchors of community life where we find connection and community.
They are important civic assets.
Oldenburg’s ideas remain influential, and the best cities embrace his “Third Place” philosophy by encouraging and supporting these gathering spots.
According to experts, there are several characteristics of a third place.
A third place accepts people from all walks of life.
Conversation is the focus.
They are accessible and accommodating.
There are regulars who hang out.
They tend to be low profile.
They are playful, fun and casual.
They are “a home away from home.”
Granger’s ticked most if not all those boxes.
Sadly, third places are declining.
We don’t go to the movies anymore, we don’t join bowling leagues like we used to do and service clubs are struggling to attract young members.
We do play pickleball, so that’s a plus.
Anyway, Grangers was a great, good place. I sure hope they find another location. But if they don’t, I will cherish the memories. I’m already wistful when I drive by….
This week, I was honored to eulogize my friend Nancy Stewart-Franczak, who passed away recently. A huge crowd turned out on a rainy night at the Delray Beach Golf Club to pay tribute to a woman who meant so much to so many. Nancy’s loss leaves a huge void in the lives of her husband, her family, her friends, work colleagues and the communities she served with her outstanding special events.
I got several requests to share my remarks so here they are…
Delray Beach has lost a true friend.
There are no words to adequately describe what Nancy meant to her family, her friends, her community.
We loved her.
She loved all of us, touched all of us, inspired all of us and led by example.
She was tough and soft. Resilient and loving. Determined and sensitive. She was fun and funny, warm and wise.
She put this town on the map with her vision and grit. She was a force —full of ideas and the rare visionary who not only dreamed big but had the skill to execute on those dreams.
She made so much happen. So much. It’s staggering what she accomplished with a small but powerful team. But she was always humble. Always willing to listen and always open to new things. Nancy never stopped growing. She never stopped learning, and she never stopped dreaming. She set an example for all of us.
I’ve had a few days to reflect on my friend Nancy and I’m left with a bunch of emotions: I feel deep sadness over this loss, I’m in awe of her legacy and like you I’m absolutely heartbroken. We were not prepared to let Nancy go… Somehow, we thought that Nancy was indestructible.
But while she is no longer here with us, she will always be with us in spirit. And the seeds she planted, the dreams she realized, will long endure.
She touched so many, so deeply. And I think I know why.
It’s because she was genuine.
In a fast-moving transactional world, our Nancy was real and rooted.
She wore her passion on her sleeve, spoke her mind and loved this place. She loved Delray Beach, even when the powers that be didn’t love her back.
What I’ve seen in the past few weeks is a tremendous outpouring of love from people in this community that Nancy touched. They never went away. They never left her side. Nancy’s community never left her. And she never left our side either. She never stopped taking pride in a community she helped to build.
I saw Nancy weather a lot in recent years. Illness. Pain. Toxic politics.
I debated whether to mention what Nancy and her team at FMG went through relative to the Garlic Fest.
But I think the story is essential to Nancy’s story and a testament to her strength and character.
It’s also a teachable moment. And it has a happy ending because after 9 years, Garlic Festival is coming back. And Nancy knew that. Her pride and joy is coming back to Delray; where she wanted it to be, and where it belongs.
I was mayor when Nancy asked me and Diane, then the CRA Director to travel with her to Gilroy California to show us what a Garlic Festival can mean to a community.
She wanted me to see her vision. She was going to build a festival that gave back to Delray. And she did. Because when Nancy set out to do something it got done.
When the powers that be sent her away, she stood her ground. She told her story. She stood up and spoke truth to power.
It was during this time that we grew closer. Being forced to take Garlic Festival to a new location was hard for Nancy and her team. But they made it work, and the festival grew. But she never gave up on bringing it home.
This is where we saw Nancy’s strength. We saw her faith. Her ability to pivot like all great entrepreneurs and her ability to reinvent and grow her business with other signature events.
She led by example, and she set an example.
When our community learned of Nancy’s passing, we saw a tremendous outpouring of love and respect.
Words like icon, visionary, resilience and kindness were used to describe Nancy.
I can add many: honest, loving, passionate and courageous are just a few that come to mind. Nancy was something else; she was truly remarkable.
I hope we have learned to appreciate and respect these special people in our midst. That’s the teachable moment.
Cities are cities. It’s the special people who show up, roll up their sleeves and get to work that make them special. It’s people like Nancy who make our hometowns feel like home.
Nancy’s life was devoted to building community, she benefited several cities in the area but none more than Delray.
We need to cherish people like Nancy. The people in this room certainly do. We need to insist that the visionaries in our midst are treated with grace and compassion. That’s what makes or breaks a village. Nancy knew that. She got up every day and worked hard to strengthen the village. And she succeeded. With kindness, humor and a fierce determination that made her uniquely our Nancy.
I’ll conclude by saying that I felt very close to Nancy. She was easy to talk to; we laughed together and cried a few times too. She was a loyal friend. A trusted confidant and someone I deeply respected. I loved her. We all did.
Her memory will be a blessing to all of us…she’ll live forever in our hearts.
Last week, during a visit to Maine, I had a dream. I dreamt that I was in a storm with winds so strong that bricks were flying.
In the dream, I was dodging the bricks.
When I awoke, I thought about the dream and what it may have meant.
I think I figured it out, I was listening to a song the day before by Willie Nelson, it’s called “It’s Open Season on my Heart.” There’s a line in the song that I think may have prompted my dream. Here’s the line.
The days go by like flying bricks
Leave gaping holes too deep to fix.
When we reach a certain stage of life, we start to lose people who are essential to us.
Every day the bricks are flying and sometimes they hit us and leave gaping holes too deep to fix.
Losing Nancy leaves a gaping hole to deep to fix. But while the loss hurts, we wouldn’t trade a moment, because the love we’ve experienced transcends the loss.
To Nancy’s husband John, I’m so sorry for your loss. You’ve shared with me your faith that she is with G-d. We wish you peace during this difficult time.
To Nancy’s family. Thank you for sharing Nancy with us. She enriched our lives immensely.
To Nancy’s family at FMG…I know how hard this has been for you. I hope you feel the support of an appreciative community who very much want you to continue Nancy’s remarkable work. We love the FMG team. And we love Nancy…
Lenses and viewpoints
I believe all of us have a unique way of looking at the world.
We possess a personal frame of reference that helps us make sense of the world as we work our work our way through the days of our lives.
I look at the world through three distinct lenses; that of a journalist, a mayor and lately a playwright.
Let me explain.
When I see something new or interesting I think about how I’d report on it (the journalist in me), how I’d approach it or adapt it to my town (if I were a mayor) and lately how I’d dramatize it (my new passion, playwriting).
My friends view the world in their own way.
Some think about how they’d monetize a thought (the entrepreneur), how they’d develop it (a real estate mind) or how they’d market it (a branding guru or salesperson).
Yes, we all have our lenses.
Here’s an example, when I’ve been out with police officers for dinner, I noticed that they look at their surroundings differently. I can see them scan the room. The veterans have a sixth sense honed by years of experience. It’s fascinating to witness.
Recently, I participated in a think tank exercise about the future and I was struck by how one of the participants saw the recent volatility in the stock market.
Personally, all this jumping around has freaked me out a little. Ok, a lot.
I’m not used to checking the futures market before going to bed fearful of what the next day will bring.
Maybe it’s because I’m nearing retirement and getting to an age where I will be relying on investments to see me through the rest of my life. Or maybe it’s because you reach an age when your window for making back your losses shrinks. We know that nothing goes up forever, but it’s hard when the market resembles a Six Flags rollercoaster.
But I digress.
One of the participants in the session seemed resigned and somewhat OK with the loss of value seeing it as a good thing that will force positive changes in America.
While I don’t agree, I was fascinated by this man’s cool and his confidence that this was all meant to be and somehow good.
We see things through different lenses.
I grew up being taught that doctors were to be respected, that vaccines were a scientific blessing that would keep us safe from pathogens and that fluoride in the water would keep my teeth from rotting. I remember lining up in elementary school to drink a foul tasting shot of fluoride in a Dixie Cup. We were told it was good for our teeth and we believed our teachers.
All three of these beliefs-and a whole lot of other things—are being challenged today.
I was raised to believe that public service was a noble calling, that institutions were there to advance the public good and that America stood for truth, justice and equality and against tyranny, oppression and the violation of human rights.
Needless to say some of those ideals are being challenged like never before. Politicians have always lied, but this seems to be a new level. We can’t agree on basic information anymore. It’s a disorienting experience for those of us who have seen a culture where compromise and working together were viewed as a preferred method of doing business.
Some of my friends would take great exception to the above paragraph.
They see a need for a wholesale and much needed reckoning, a recalibration of our ideals and a new path forward that will get us back on track.
I see us sliding into a pit.
I believe in due process (for everyone), the rule of law and checks and balances.
Different lenses, different outlooks, different and differing realities.
So how does it all reconcile? That’s my question.
Is it possible to stay united and see things so differently? Is it possible to be brothers and sisters and see the world and reality from totally different perspectives?
I don’t know the answer to those questions. But I know they must be answered, our current reality does not seem sustainable.
A guy I know tells me he’s going to home school his children when the time comes. The kids are young now, but he and his wife have no desire to send their children to public schools. They want to design their own curriculum for their kids. That is certainly their right. And I respect that; and the notion that our schools are lacking and in need of reform. But a part of me found it sad because I think public education is part of our genius as a nation and that the socialization that occurs on the playground, in the classroom, the gym and the lunch room are the common glue of experience that binds us together.
Today, we are trapped behind screens, separated from each other by algorithms, drugged by notifications and herded into tribes taught to hate the other tribes.
I get the lenses. What I see, I want to write about and dramatize.
But I sure hope that our lenses are not blinders. I hope they don’t stop of us from pursuing worthwhile goals. I hope we leave room for peripheral vision and perspectives. I sure hope that we preserve what we used to cherish and celebrate—what we used to call the commons.
Nancy Stewart-Franczak
I really didn’t mean for this blog to turn into an obituary column.
But this year has been especially difficult. We have lost a great many people who made Delray Beach special.
On Monday, April 28, I received a message that my friend of many years Nancy Stewart-Franczak passed away. Nancy was a wonderful person—hard working, sincere, funny, down to earth, loving and tough as they come. She fought hard and I never once saw her lose faith.
I’ve known Nancy for more years than I can recall. We ran in the same circles, had lots of mutual friends and grew close over the years. When I turned 60 last August, I asked Nancy and her friend and colleague Jennifer Costello to plan a celebration.
We are growing older, and I wanted more than anything else a chance to get everyone together again. We don’t do that as much as we should. The loss we have experienced recently reminds me why we should prioritize the important relationships in our lives.
Nancy and Jen went above and beyond for me. We spent hours at my house talking about guest lists and activities, music, decorations, menus and all sorts of stuff. We laughed. A lot.
Nancy gave me the party of a lifetime—she and Jen are great at what they do –but in my case I felt their professionalism was infused with love. I’m grateful for that love.
I know Nancy was thankful for the special relationships in her life. She had a wonderful smile. She was an interesting combination of warmth and strength. Nancy exuded strength. I never saw her waver. Not once.
Nancy and I spoke a lot over the years about Delray Beach. We shared a love for the town and the people who rolled up their sleeves and made it a special place.
The good things that make cities sing don’t happen by accident. Community building requires people to dig deep, work hard, take risks and will good things into existence. Nancy was one of the people who did just that—for decades.
She was a civic entrepreneur, and her canvas was the special event space. She believed in the power of events to make a positive difference in the lifeblood of a community. She was involved in every detail of her events which was made them so great. Her passion for her work and her team and her city made Nancy a one-of-a-kind contributor.
She took pride in Delray’s progress and reveled in the camaraderie and comfort she found in this large circle of extraordinary people—people who came together to build a sense of community and to shape a place into a home.
When I was an elected official, Nancy invited Diane and I to go to Gilroy, California to visit something called a Garlic Festival. Nancy had dreams and wanted to show us what a festival could do for a community. We made the trip, and I was blown away by the crowds and the amount of money that was raised for small nonprofits in Gilroy.
I saw Nancy’s vision and was proud to support it. She grew the Garlic Festival into a major event, with chefs, competitions, concerts, rides for the kids and best of all fundraising opportunities for small groups doing great work in our city.
A few years later, I was disappointed when a few folks on the commission turned on the Garlic Festival forcing it to relocate to Lake Worth. During this time, I did my best to support Nancy as a friend. We had many long conversations where I just listened. She was hurt but determined. A lesser person would have given up, but that’s Nancy. She took her talents to other cities with Garlic Festival and other events such as Lagoon Fest and Bacon & Bourbon. Those communities benefitted from Nancy’s leadership, vision and the execution of her team the Festival Management Group.
During this trying time Nancy never stopped dreaming of doing events for her beloved Delray Beach.
She was tested, but she never gave up. We saw our friend’s motives questioned by people who should have known better. From watching Nancy and her team, I can attest that running an event organization is not a get rich quick scheme, it’s a labor of love, full of risk. It requires hot and sweaty work, worries about weather, insurance, competition and any number of things that can go wrong in what has become a world fraught with weirdness and danger.
Nancy and her team at Festival Management Group produced Garlic Festival, Delray Affair, Bacon and Bourbon, Lagoon Fest and other special events because they loved this community and wanted to give families a fun and safe place to be. They also wanted to showcase exhibitors and artists and help community groups raise the funds they need.
Nancy and her husband John and their team hung in there…and I was told right after Nancy passed by her partner and friend Bern that they had been working on bringing Garlic Fest back to Delray after a 9-year absence. They felt good about their meeting with Mayor Tom Carney. Nancy knew this was coming about and I’m sure she was happy.
I enjoyed every moment I spent over the years with Nancy. I loved visiting her home, our dogs got to know each other, and I enjoyed getting to know her husband as well.
Nancy helped to put modern day Delray Beach on the map. She did so without fanfare, and she worked hard to make her events meaningful, safe and fun.
She longed to do a “Delray reunion” event and I wanted to do it with her and a few others. Sadly, we couldn’t make it happen because life, illness, jobs and obligations got in the way.
Nancy wanted to bring everyone from the All America City era together—the first award was won in 1993. She wanted to celebrate others who made a mark but maybe weren’t thanked sufficiently for doing so. She was thinking of others and of Delray Beach—as always.
Of course Nancy was a major contributor as well. She did an awful lot. Events in Pineapple Grove. Concerts with big names. Wine and seafood events that featured local chefs…the list goes on and on.
She was a good person. A really good person.
And I loved her. We all did.
She left a mark. She worked so hard. She was strong, so strong.
Nancy will be missed by all lucky enough to have known her.
Two great chiefs: Fire Chief Kerry Koen and retired Delray Police Chief Rick Overman.
A few more words about my friend, my teacher Kerry Koen.
Kerry’s funeral was last week at North Creek Presbyterian Church where he was involved for many years.
Kerry was a multi-faceted man. A gifted photographer whose photos of New England made me want to explore that region. He helped me discover a place called Woodstock, Vermont and we talked about the history of New England and its role as the cradle of our Democracy. Kerry was a talented chef, who went to culinary school and made wonderful chili.
He was well-read and had a deep appreciation for history. He would have been an amazing history professor or a wonderful photojournalist.
I spent the week reviewing the email he sent me over the years, each full of wisdom and useful information.
A few years ago, he gave me this quote from Einstein when we met for lunch at Ben’s Deli, a favorite spot of his. It resonated with me then and especially now, in the wake of loss.
“One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery each day. Never lose a holy curiosity. … Don’t stop to marvel.”
Kerry’s funeral service was a beautiful tribute to a great man. Honor Guards from Boca and Delray Fire Rescue were there along with a large contingent of former Delray and current and past Boca city officials. Kerry was proud to be a part of these municipal all-star teams. He was an MVP on those teams and his legacy will live on.
He took great pride in his public service. Boca City Manager George Brown did a wonderful job describing Kerry’s impact on Boca. I had the honor of speaking about his time in Delray and his impact on me and so many others. I thought I would reprint my remarks here for Kerry’s many friends and for the benefit of those who didn’t meet him but have benefited from his vision and stellar service. I will miss Kerry deeply.
Here are my remarks…
In Remembrance of Kerry Koen
We gather today to honor a great man. Kerry Koen was not just a fire chief – he was a builder of communities, a mentor to generations, and a friend whose love and wisdom touched countless lives.
The heaviness in our hearts today speaks to the profound impact Kerry had on each of us. Even though we knew this day was coming, the loss weighs heavy – because great men like Kerry leave spaces that cannot be filled.
Kerry served as Fire Chief for both Delray Beach and Boca Raton, but titles never captured the essence of who he was. At his core, Kerry was a teacher. He taught through his actions, his integrity, and his unwavering commitment to service. Every time someone in our community dials 911, they are benefiting from Kerry’s vision and contributions, though they may never know his name.
Kerry’s intellect was extraordinary. Many have said he was the smartest person they’d ever met when it came to understanding what makes cities work. He saw trends before others did. He thought deeply about challenges and offered solutions that were both pragmatic and visionary. He didn’t just see challenges – he saw possibilities. And he didn’t just raise questions, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work. Kerry Koen was a problem-solver. The best you could ever imagine.
He did all of this without seeking fanfare…and he never stopped serving his community. He never stopped mentoring those of us lucky enough to know him.
But what made Kerry truly special was how he balanced that sharp intellect with an equally powerful heart. He led with love – love for his country, love for his firefighters, love for his cities and especially love for his wife Lynne and his family. In these past few years, as he faced health challenges that would have broken most of us, that love only grew stronger and more evident.
There’s a message from the fire union that captures Kerry’s impact perfectly: “Chief Koen didn’t just lead Delray Beach Fire Rescue, he built it. He laid the foundation for the professional standards we stand on today and gave generations of firefighters the opportunity to wear this badge with pride.”
Indeed. Kerry Koen was an exceptional man and an exceptional public servant.
Kerry wasn’t interested in the small stuff. He wrestled with big ideas, and he inspired us to think… really think about our world and our role in the community.
Kerry wasn’t interested in personal praise. He was interested in making things better – better training, better equipment, better leadership, and a better future for those who answered the call. He gave a voice to firefighters and fought for their safety with unwavering determination.
In leadership, Kerry showed us what calm in a storm looks like. What humility means. What protection of a community requires. He made hard decisions without flinching and never hid when things got tough.
In friendship, Kerry was generous beyond measure. He shared books, articles, and photographs. He invested in people. He ended conversations with “I love you” – not a common sign-off for men of his generation, but Kerry had grown even softer and more sensitive as he aged, navigating his health challenges with remarkable grace.
Hours before he left this world, Kerry sat with friends at his bedside. I was one of those friends. He calmly told us he was dying. We shared stories, looked at memorabilia, and marveled at the breadth of his life. He was present with us the whole time – one last gift, one final lesson in life, service, and love. When we left, Kerry told us he would see us on the other side. He said I love you, one last time. We said we loved him too….
Kerry and I shared a special bond. I can’t quite put it into words, but what we shared was special. It was precious. Every time we spoke, and we spoke often, he taught me something. He showed me something I didn’t see. Every time…he was my great teacher and his influence on me and others can’t be quantified. He touched so many of us.
To Lynne, his beloved wife and partner on this journey – our hearts are with you, your daughter, grandson and son-in-law. What a team you two have been. How fortunate we are to know you and to love you. My friend Kerry never failed to tell me how lucky he was to have found Lynne; how he viewed her as a remarkable partner who helped him achieve his dreams in every aspect of life….
We throw the word “greatness” around too easily these days. But Kerry Koen was the real deal. He was truly great – not because of titles or achievements, but because of how deeply he cared, how wisely he led, and how generously he loved.
Some people come into our lives, and words simply cannot adequately describe their impact. Kerry was one of those rare souls.
The great ones leave their marks on our hearts and minds. If we are lucky, they arrive in our lives and communities, and if we are smart, we listen, learn, and appreciate them.
Many of us did just that with Kerry. We listened. We learned. And we are forever grateful.
As the fire union so perfectly said: “We’ve lost more than a former chief; we’ve lost a pillar of our department and community. But his legacy lives in every firehouse, in every crew, and in every firefighter who still strives to live up to the standard he set.”
Rest easy, Chief Koen. We’ll take it from here.
Good Bones, the book.
Good Bones
By Maggie Smith
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real s#&*@hole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
I discovered this poem last week while listening to a podcast interview with writer/poet Maggie Smith.
As usual, I’m late to the party. “Good Bones” became a viral sensation in 2017. Somehow, I missed it.
But now that I’ve found it, I find myself going back to the poem and reading it again and again.
Good writing impacts us in a special way, if we slow down and take the time to read, absorb, and think.
I’m not a big fan of poetry, although I love song lyrics and consider the best songwriters to be poets.
Still, I love words, and good writing has a way of helping me make sense of the world. As someone who writes—a lot—I long for the times that I can get into what they call “flow” state.
Flow isn’t something you can summon; it just happens—rarely for me — but it’s a real thing. In between flow states you rely on craft, the muscles you’ve developed by writing for years and years.
I’m in awe of great writers because I know how hard it is to write at a level that moves hearts and minds. I am not a great writer, but I aspire to be. And I write in the hope that someday I will experience—even for a moment– what it must feel like to write like Maggie Smith or Maya Angelou or my new writing crush Chisa Hutchinson.
The Good Bones touched me because I’m distressed by the state of our union and our world. Division is no bueno. No good ever comes from hatred, recrimination and callousness.
The Good Bones reminds us of what sustains us amidst the chaos and horror and relentless crazy of this time.
Here’s a list:
Connection and friendship.
Moments of respite when we can recharge and renew.
Creativity, kindness, kinship and care.
Beauty, generosity, excellence and meaning.
It also reminds us that we have a role to play. We are not just passive actors that allow things to happen to us, we are people who have the power to shape our destinies and determine our destination. We are called to bring beauty into this world.
“This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.”
Indeed, we can.
Last week, my colleagues and I spent some time with the CEO of a nonprofit called FLIPANY.
Flipany provides nutritious food to thousands of people in South Florida every day. They serve 130 plus sites over a vast region with lots of needs. It’s a logistical miracle pulled off every day.
I find beauty in that story of grit and determination. The founder started with one site serving 40 children and grew the organization into a trusted partner for schools, camps, churches, community centers, senior citizen facilities etc.
She’s tough as nails. Resourceful too. But there’s a beauty to her work, she brings love and sustenance into the world.
I was glad she made the trip from Dania Beach to Delray Beach to spend some time….
So why is it important to seek out beauty.? Why should we remember “good bones” and seek to understand what it means?
Maybe, it’s too remind us who we’ve been; to remind us that those good bones are still somewhere in our DNA. So, we are reminded of what beauty and goodness look like, so that when it shows up in our world, we can see it.
We have good bones in America. We have good bones in this community. We should strive not to break those bones. We should strive to make this world beautiful.
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