Brené Brown once said, “We chase extraordinary moments instead of being grateful for ordinary moments until hard 💩happens. And then in the face of really hard stuff — illness, death, loss — the only thing we’re begging for is a normal moment.”
Your Guide To The Delray Beach Boca Raton Lifestyle
Brené Brown once said, “We chase extraordinary moments instead of being grateful for ordinary moments until hard 💩happens. And then in the face of really hard stuff — illness, death, loss — the only thing we’re begging for is a normal moment.”
What’s happening at Old School Square is a microcosm of what’s been happening in Delray Beach for years now.
I really wish I didn’t feel compelled to write about Covid.
I wish that this damn virus was in the rear-view mirror instead of front-page news. Again.
But hospitals are filling up—again. People are dying—again.
According to the Surgeon General —and most of the medical and scientific community— there is no reason for people to be dying. If this is something you don’t believe, fine. You should probably stop reading right about now.
But if you are on the fence, I’m going to try gently to convince you to take the leap and get the shot.
Here’s the pitch.
We have a vaccine and if you take it, the statistics tell us that you won’t die.
That’s it.
It’s a straightforward value proposition.
I know people— including a lifelong friend— who take issue with what I just wrote. They will not change my mind and I will not change theirs either. This is where we are as a society these days—locked into our positions, identified by our tribes and in possession of our own “facts.” For the record, I believe my sources and I think theirs are full of crap.
There….it’s out of my system.
But my friends, Democracies can’t last too long in this kind of atmosphere. Democracies rely on the acceptance of objective facts, a healthy regard for science and the rule of law. Yes, we have a right and an obligation to question things, but after a while we should opt toward the evidence.
Democracy also relies on freedom.
We wield that word like a cudgel these days. Some people view mandates as restrictions on our freedoms—and they are.
But freedom also comes with responsibility. We have a responsibility to others. We have never been able to do whatever we wanted whenever we wanted. There have always been rules of the road.
As the old saying goes: My right to swing my arms in any direction ends where your nose begins.
I fear sometimes that we forget that fundamental pillar. You do not have a right to get others sick.
But this isn’t another piece for the culture wars. It’s testimony.
A year ago, I was in Bethesda Hospital with Covid and double pneumonia. The virus almost took my life.
I didn’t want to let on at the time, but I did not think I was getting out of there alive. A lot of people on my medical team would have agreed.
At the time, Covid took everything from my breath and my strength to my ability to think, walk and take care of myself. Spending six weeks flat on your back in a hospital with a mask on your face, attached to hoses and ports is a traumatic experience. You are left alone with your thoughts and your fears; the days go on and on and on. And the nights are terrifying.
I’m reliving the experience through the “memory” feature on Facebook. I was blessed with a daily dose of kind messages from friends who live near and far.
When all you can do is hold a phone that proved to be a lifeline and a source of inspiration at a time when I desperately needed both.
So here I am a year later.
Back to work.
Back to the gym.
Back home with my family.
But things aren’t the same.
My perspectives have changed, I hope in a good way. You learn to appreciate life more than ever when you almost lose it.
It took me a full 10 months to feel anything like my former self physically and as I take inventory a year later, I have to say that things have changed for me and millions of others.
I can’t sleep well.
I’m tired.
My brain is not as foggy, but my memory is not as sharp.
My joint pain is gone (and it was awful) and I stopped losing my hair, but my breathing is just not right.
Every day, for parts of the day, I feel like I can’t take a deep breath.
It feels like there’s cotton in my lungs, an obstruction that comes and goes. It’s hard to explain.
And I am one of the lucky ones.
I share this because I want you to know that Covid is real, very dangerous and more than a little mysterious.
It affects people in different ways. My wish is for people to live their lives, but to be aware and to try and do the things it takes to stay safe.
The best thing you can do is to get a vaccine.
That’s the bottom line my friends. Sent with love and concern. No need to send me your theories on Fauci, magnets, 5G, Bill Gates etc. I’m not interested. I’ve read about those theories and I’m comfortable that they have been debunked. Bottom line: I trust the science. And if you’ve read this far, I’ve warned you.
This is for the people on the fence, and I know a few. I hope you take the leap. I will help you take the leap if you want.
This is about all of us. Let’s stamp this darn thing out before we get a variant that comes back to bite us all. This one already is—especially here in Florida. The next variant may elude the vaccine’s protection.
By my math, more Americans have died of Covid in the past 17 months than in four years of the bloody Civil War. Enough already.
Enough.
Otis Redding was right.
“It’s all so easy
All you got to do is try
Try a little tenderness.”
Actually, Jimmy Campbell, Reg Connelly and Harry M. Woods wrote the lyrics to that classic song, but Otis…well Otis…he brought the emotion.
So when you listen to that song you just feel it in your soul.
“When you get weary, try a little tenderness.”
The words empathy and tenderness have been rattling around in my head these days.
Naïve and romantic old me keeps thinking that if we deployed those words, sent them out into the world to do their magic, good things might happen.
Last week, I read a story about a lawn guy named Tony who was walking to work on Dunes Road in unincorporated Palm Beach County when he saw a car veer out of control. The driver was having a seizure and ended up on the front lawn of what turned out to be a rather nasty couple.
Tony went to render help; he grabbed the fender as the car rolled forward. Unfortunately, the car crushed his bag lunch, but he tried mightily to get the seizure victim out of the vehicle. He yelled for help as the man convulsed violently inside the car.
The owner of the home where the car stopped came outside– not to help– but to yell: “Get off our lawn! Get that man out of here! Have him die somewhere else!”
Oy….
Tony happened to recognize the seizure victim and knew where he lived, a few doors down. He ran to the man’s home, and they were able to summon help.
The Sheriff’s Office was happy to report that they received a call from the seizure victim a few days later. He called officers to find out Tony’s phone number, “I want to talk to Tony. He saved my life.”
The grateful man and his wife found Tony and gave him a big hug to thank him for his actions.
The Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office honored Tony with accolades and a photo on social media. The posting prompting an outpouring of love for Tony and a heaping of shame for the less than charming neighbors who were more concerned for their lawn than their neighbor’s life.
They should try a little tenderness.
And frankly, some of the vitriolic social media commenters may also want to consider a dollop of restraint.
Shame can be a teacher, but hatred and threats…well that just leads to more hatred and more threats.
We can do better.
About 10 years ago, we started a charity called “Dare to Be Great.”
The non-profit picked 10-12 Delray kids a year and we helped them pay for college. We also mentored the students and did what we could to connect them to opportunities.
We had one young man, who came to the United States from Haiti with his father. He told us what it was like to say goodbye to his mother (who he never saw again) and come to a country where he did not speak the language. He told us how a church gave him clothes and how he went to school every day passing gang members who tried to either recruit him or hurt him. He learned the language, excelled academically and when he went to Atlantic High School, he became an International Baccalaureate student and a leader in the school’s Criminal Justice Career Academy. His story blew us away.
He told us that his dream was to become a Delray police officer and eventually an FBI agent.
Long story short, we gave him a scholarship, he went to the University of Florida and excelled. With the help of then Delray Beach Police Captain Michael Coleman we were able to arrange an internship with the Gainesville Police Department.
But when the young man graduated, citizenship issues prevented him from getting a job in Delray. That was a real loss because this exceptional young man spoke Creole, which would have made him a great asset to our department. Eventually, he was able to sort things out and he ended up taking a job with the San Diego Police Department. He would visit with us when he came home to Delray.
Last week, he let us know that he realized his dream of becoming an FBI agent. He also let us know that he was grateful for the support—for the kindness extended to him by this community.
The next day, I saw a video of a speech that Vice President Kamala Harris gave to a group of Dreamers— “undocumented” kids who came to this country with their parents and went to college or the military. Their legal status remains in limbo year after year because our dysfunctional, divisive and polarizing politics doesn’t allow us to compromise or fix things.
How sad is that?
Come on folks, figure it out. That’s what we elect you to do.
And before you write to tell me that you don’t like the Veep, that’s great, but remember “try a little tenderness.”
Anyway, the Vice President told the kids that they were home.
This is their home. We care for you.
America, the beautiful. The land of opportunity.
Community is what provides that opportunity. Tony the lawn guy saved a life because he cared. A young man who came here with nothing is dedicating his life to law enforcement in a country he has come to love and cherish. He did the work but was helped along the way by teachers, mentors and a few philanthropists who cared.
Like Otis sang all those years ago…we do get weary.
I think we’re weary.
Maybe we ought to try a little tenderness.
This other stuff? Well it just isn’t working.
Back in my newspaper days, we were trained to look for trends.
There have been reports of the kids, some on bikes, some in ski masks, vandalizing storefronts, and screaming vulgar expletives at folks walking downtown in the middle of the day.
Ugh.
Sometimes buildings stand for so much more than bricks and mortar.
Historic buildings contain stories. So many stories.
They tell the tales of their towns. If only the walls could talk.
In Delray Beach, Old School Square has the best stories.
Stories of civic renewal.
Stories of healing after tragedy.
And stories of celebration after civic achievements.
So many important moments in the history of our town have happened within the walls or on the grounds of Old School Square.
That should mean something. That does mean something.
I thought about that fact last week as I was watching a debate unfold over the future of the organization.
I think the conversation is long overdue.
But the tone of the conversation distressed me greatly. And it ought to worry you too if you care about this community and this institution’s role in our past, present and future.
The best “tough” conversations come from a place of love, where all parties understand that while there may be disappointments, grievances, hurt, questions and hard feelings— at the end of the day there is love and respect. For tough conversations to yield the most value, there needs to be a foundation in place.
Historic buildings are important, and they are often beautiful, but it is the people who inhabit and care for those buildings that make the difference. They animate our buildings and they make or break our community.
I would argue that the people who have supported Old School Square over the past 35 years are some of the best people you can find here or anywhere.
They aren’t perfect. They have made mistakes. But they have also done amazing things—transformational things that have had an outsize importance to our city.
But before we talk about some of those amazing feats, here a few particulars:
The second and third buildings were designed by Sam Ogren Sr., a legendary Delray architect. They were lovingly restored under the watchful eye of another beloved local architect, Bob Currie, who passed away a few years back.
Both are gone but not forgotten—at least that’s the hope and how it should be. Special contributors should never be forgotten. Want to know if your community is healthy? Ask yourself whether the elders are held in esteem or if they have been put out with the garbage? It’s a fool proof test. But I digress.
Back in 1988, when the buildings made the National Register, the block was surrounded by a chain link fence and a non-descript concrete sidewalk—no paver bricks in those days. To the west, there was a whole lot of blight, crime and despair. To the east, there was vacancy. Downtown wasn’t quite on life support, but it was close.
My friends, vacancy and blight are not recipes for charm.
But if you study history, you will understand that towns go through cycles. When you’re up, you can’t imagine being down. And sometimes when you’re down, you have a hard time imagining how things could ever turn around. “Ya gotta believe”, as Mets fans used to say.
When the original buildings were built in ’13 and ’26 things were looking up in Delray.
The Delray High School cost $12,000 to build in 1913. And when it opened on November 28 of that year the entire town was in attendance, according to the narrative you can find on the National Register of Historic Places website. Now I’m sure somebody stayed home, but you get the picture, the opening of the school was considered one of the most important events in the history of the town.
But time passes and by the 80s, the buildings and the campus were a mess. Can you imagine a rusty chain link fence at main and main?
And that’s where we pick up our story when a visionary named Frances Bourque looked at those sad buildings and saw something else—a brighter future. She rallied the community and before you knew it, the eyesore on Atlantic and Swinton became a source of civic pride and inspiration.
Pride and inspiration are two things that should never be given short shrift in a city. Civic pride enables belief and belief creates trust which helps you to get things done.
Trust means you can go to the voters with a bond issue and ask them to go into debt and raise their taxes because there is a need to beautify your town, fix your parks and pave your streets.
Trust means they will vote ‘yes’ in resounding numbers. But if you don’t have pride, if you don’t trust your local government to deliver, you won’t be able to pass that bond or turn that blight into Old School Square.
Inspiration is also critically important.
Old School Square’s renovation was a catalyst for downtown Delray Beach. It inspired others to believe in the future of the central business district.
And because the downtown is the heart of our community when it came back to life so did Delray. I would argue that Old School Square is the singular civic achievement in modern day Delray history. It sent a message to everyone who cared to listen: this town is serious about bettering itself. This town is aspirational. And aspiration is the best economic development strategy you can ever deploy.
Frances Bourque’s dream (disclaimer: I adore her) was brilliant because it addressed our past, our present and our future. Very few ideas touch on all three, but Old School Square celebrates our history, informs our present and has the promise to educate, entertain and inspire future generations.
When the fence came down and the buildings were restored our civic pride came back. We were no longer “Dullray”—we were a city on the move with vision, dreams, hopes and a bright future. What a gift the project that is Old School Square has been to all of us. Some of that gift is intangible–for instance the value of having a place to convene cannot be measured, but it’s important nonetheless.
Look around South Florida and you will see that very few communities have a place to gather. Old School Square is our place to gather.
It has been an important convening space since it was restored. It is where we’ve hosted Town Hall meetings, it’s where we gathered to welcome the New Year, to celebrate All America City victories and talk about the future of our city during our famous charettes. On the stage, we have seen music, dance and even ice skating. In the beautiful Crest Theatre we have welcomed foreign leaders, authors, thinkers, historians and even a Supreme Court Justice.
Old School Square is also where we gathered to grieve and talk to each other after 9/11 , the Parkland horror and the tragic shooting of Jerrod Miller in 2005.
The beautiful spaces inside the buildings are where we held race relations meetings, where we had tough but important conversations and where we have seen 30 years’ worth of performances and art that has moved us. Yes, if only the walls could talk.
But luckily people do.
I have met local children who were inspired by performances and exhibitions at Old School Square. Some went to art school and one special young woman became a professional photographer after taking courses at the venue. This community came together and gave that young woman a scholarship—that’s what community is all about and it doesn’t happen without a place to gather.
A few months ago—in the wake of the gloom and stress of Covid– Jimmy Buffett—the legend himself– chose Old School Square’s amphitheater to re-launch his live music career. People loved it. They needed what Jimmy brought to us over four magical nights under the stars. Not everyone got tickets, but there were only 1,200 available. But he was here and some of the shows were broadcast on the radio. As Commissioner Adam Frankel noted last week that was a gift to all of Delray.
In a few months, Delray resident Max Weinberg, a member of the E Street Band and a Rock and Roll Hall of Famer, will host a concert and exhibit at Old School Square because he has fallen in love, like many of us have, with this town and our cultural arts center. Max, like many of us, has been inspired to serve and to give back.
Service and charity are what drives great cities.
You need good people to show up, roll up their sleeves and get to work. But those people need to feel supported and appreciated for their efforts. If they don’t feel supported, they will stay home or take their talents elsewhere. It’s just that simple.
Again, Old School Square is not perfect.
But it’s important to this town.
Old School Square has suffered, like every other arts organization, because of Covid. It needs our help and support now more than ever.
There is no doubt that many of Old School’s Square’s challenges pre-dated Covid and those challenges include funding, turnover among staff and board members and other organizational and financial issues. Some of those issues are really serious—nobody denies that.
As much as has been accomplished—and an awful lot has been accomplished—I think most agree that Old School Square can and should be even more. That’s not a knock on the organization, just an acknowledgement of its vast potential.
Last week, I heard some CRA officials bemoan the cost of Old School Square.
And it is expensive. No doubt about it.
But what about the return on that investment? That’s a good conversation to have and maybe that return can be better so let’s talk about that. But communities make mistakes when they only focus on costs not benefits.
Regardless, it’s important that the institution survive. Having a non-profit that raises private dollars and give citizens a place to volunteer and serve is a good thing. Can that non-profit improve? Absolutely.
It needs to.
Because if Old School Square thrives, Delray is a better place.
So it’s important for us to support the institution and to work together to fix its problems and realize it’s vast potential. Without giving you chapter and verse, the organization has hit a rough patch—rough enough that the powers that be realize the need for a broad conversation about the future.
The opportunity here is a huge one. It’s an opportunity to re-invent, re-set and build something even better. It is also an opportunity to improve how we handle things in this community when problems arise.
A long time ago, I sat on a dais with other elected officials.
For four of my seven years in office, I sat in the middle of that dais with a gavel and a nameplate that said mayor. It was a privilege and an honor and a responsibility. We saw ourselves as stewards. If a key segment of the community or a key organization had a problem, then we had a problem. We were in this together.
The people who have served this city have always viewed Old School Square as a treasured civic asset. They also viewed the relationship as a partnership and a collaboration. When things went right, we celebrated. When things got off track, we worked together to fix things to the best of our ability.
But we never lost the script, we were faithful to the basics. Healthy cities need places to gather. We were fortunate to have a great place to gather. Old School Square’s campus is beautiful, the buildings lovingly restored, the classrooms brim with possibility and the conversations that could be had within those walls are critical to our future.
Those are the basics, and they are awfully special.
We need to think about how we treat that place. And we also need to think about how we treat the volunteers who keep that place going with their time, money and talents.
There’s no doubt that we need accountability, there’s no compromising on that measure when public and donor dollars are at stake. But we need sensitivity as well.
We need to remember that we are in this together. It is always better to help than condemn.
There is a great opportunity right now to re-invent and create a brighter future together.
Have you seen the TV series “Dear…” on Apple Plus?
America, I’ve noticed a bit of a change since Covid came about in the way we treat each another.
On a national level, we demonize and brutalize each other. I mean it is plain ugly.
I got choked up last week watching Miami- Dade County Mayor Daniella Levine Cava do a masterful job at a press conference in the wake of the tragic condo collapse in Surfside.
Daniella is a friend of mine and I can only imagine the stress and pressure she is feeling as she leads her community in the wake of an unfathomable disaster.
Mayor Levine Cava was my Leadership Florida classmate many years ago. I was the mayor of Delray Beach at the time navigating a series of hurricanes that disrupted our class schedule.
Just when we bonded as a class, we were knocked back by a series of major hurricanes that knocked us off our schedule and off our games. The storms were ferocious and scary.
But we made it through, and in some ways the challenge of that year made us stronger and closer as a group.
Leadership Florida is a statewide program that seeks to bring a diverse set of leaders together for training and education. The goal is to build better leaders, create a statewide network and to get members to care passionately about Florida. It’s a life changing program. And if you engage it will make you a better leader.
Daniella was an earnest student. She was deeply engaged.
I remember her constantly typing away on a laptop taking notes at every one of our sessions with a series of experts who came to teach.
At the time, Daniella was involved in social services. But when the class ended, she reached out and asked to meet.
Daniella was considering entering local politics and she wanted a primer.
We arranged to meet “halfway” at the Bass Pro Shops in Hollywood.
She peppered me with questions and if I remember, she took more notes.
I left telling her that I hoped that someday she would run.
That someday came a few years later when she won a seat on the Dade County Commission. In 2020, she ran an amazing campaign and got elected to a really big job—Mayor of Miami- Dade County.
I have one word to describe how her Leadership Florida classmates felt when she won and that was “wow”!
Personally, I thought that Daniella would be a great mayor because she has all the smarts, toughness and intellectual curiosity that the great ones possess. But she also has something else that is absolutely necessary to succeed, to be more than just another elected official who comes and goes and barely leaves a mark. That something is empathy.
Empathy is the fuel for success. You have to love the people you serve. You can’t be a real leader if you lack love and empathy.
I saw Mayor Levine-Cava’s empathy shining through during her many press conferences last week. Her facility in two languages, the care and concern in her words, the warmth of her personality just burst through the screen.
A friend from Utah texted me in the wake of the tragedy saying that he knew these kind of events affected people like me because we were “city people” who feel these things.
Truth is, we all do. We all feel the fragility of people and communities.
But maybe mayors, police officers, firefighters and other city people feel it a little deeper.
Because when tragedies strike: murders, violent crimes, hurricanes, fires, accidents etc. we are (or were) tasked with picking up the pieces. It’s a leader’s responsibility to provide information, context and perspective when the world goes berserk as it does with some regularity these days.
My former classmate voiced all of these essentials and more during her interactions with the press.
She made a point to describe the remarkable dedication and bravery of the rescue personnel on site. How they wanted to keep working and how their dedication was breathtaking. They worked at risk of their lives, with debris falling, high winds that made that debris even more dangerous, rain, heat and fire. They worked in a structurally unsound building focused on their task: to save lives. For these brave men and women, it’s more than a job, it’s a mission. Great leaders like Daniella shine in these circumstances because their humanity becomes paramount to that mission and to the eventual healing that will be needed.
Watching her on TV I thought of that word again: Wow.
We often give short shrift to the soft skills but they make all the difference. Empathy is everything. So is love for people and community.
We often see criticism of local government fed by cynicism and snark.
But we need local government. We need good, local government.
And we need great leaders at all levels of government.
Tragedy reveals character.
Last week, we saw the character of local rescue workers and the character of a local mayor.
Our hearts break, but we can take comfort that there are still some special public servants who meet the moment with love, dedication and empathy.
I’m not ready to leave Father’s Day just yet.
So indulge me, if you will.
It’s an important day and deserves more than 24 hours.
Close readers of this blog know of my deep regard for my father.
Simply said, he’s my hero; has been, always will be.
As an avid reader of biography, I’m keenly aware of how lucky I am to have a good father. So many people either don’t have a father or the one that they do have is deeply flawed or in the worst cases abusive or absent.
I may be lacking in lots of areas, but in the dad department I won the lottery.
My dad checks every box:
Good provider, always there for us, good husband to my mother, attentive father, solid, reliable, loving, honest and generous. The list of his positive attributes goes on forever and at age 83 I’m still discovering new traits to admire about my father.
I’m so lucky have him around playing a prominent role in my life and the lives of my children.
As for me, I’m 56, with 35 years of professional experience and at this point a whole lot of life experience too.
So you would think I could go it alone. And the truth is I can.
But why go it alone when you have a dad who is so smart and so pure in his intentions. He just wants the best for his son and everyone in our family. There’s still not a big decision I would make without his input. And not because I need his advice but because I want it and because it’s always so good.
Yes, I am a lucky man.
So many of my friends have lost their dads by now. I knew these men and they were good people, so those losses loom large. I think you always need your parents and if they do a good job and impart the right stuff you’ll always be able to summon those lessons even when they’re gone.
In this Covid era, I can’t help but think of all the children who have lost parents to the virus in 2020-21. And obviously it’s not just Covid, but the usual culprits too and the not so usual reasons such as being in the wrong place at the wrong time. There is too much violence in our world today.
I ache for those experiencing a painful Father’s Day.
So while obvious, it’s important to say it: savor the moments.
The special moments. The ordinary moments. The great conversations and the pedestrian ones as well.
Take long walks.
Meet for lunch and dinner.
Share books and articles and jokes and greeting cards and weekend trips if you are able.
Hit some golf balls. Watch a ball game. And for goodness sakes tell them how you feel.
Don’t leave things unsaid.
Today is a blessing. Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
Note: Delray Beach lost a wonderful community leader last week. Shirley Israel passed away in Los Angeles where she was living after moving from Delray a few years ago.
She was a long time leader at the Pines of Delray back when western condo presidents wielded a lot of political power in our town.
Shirley was a key advisor to a slew of mayors and commissioners who valued her support, advice and friendship. It was always given generously with the best of intentions for Delray Beach at its heart.
Back in the days when Shirley was out front leading, the western communities were very active raising money for charity, supporting police and fire and volunteering for worthy causes and projects.
I miss those days. Those lions and lionesses were never replaced and we are a poorer community as a result.
Once upon a time, we had a whole lot of heartfelt civic engagement. It went beyond complaining on social media and included volunteering for the Citizen Roving Patrols, Community Emergency Response Teams to help out during disasters, fundraising for police and fire and reading to children in our schools.
Shirley was one of those people and she was passionate about Delray and her community at the Pines.
Two quick stories that I will always remember.
The Pines is located across from our wastewater treatment plant. And back in the day, when the wind blew in a certain direction, you could smell that plant from miles away. The odor was especially strong in the Pines of Delray. As city commissioners we had the honor of serving on the board of the plant along with city commissioners from Boynton Beach.
Shirley lobbied us to do something about the odor. Eventually, we did. But to make sure we understood what was at stake she organized a big group to greet us at a board meeting. A few of the people got heated at the meeting and went after the supervisor of the plant who was a wonderful guy but he didn’t like to be pushed. I remember walking into the meeting, wading through the crowd of angry people and catching Shirley’s eye. She smiled, shrugged and winked as if to say “we like you commissioners, but we mean business. Will you help us?”
Of course we will. And we did.
Later, when Shirley was sworn into another term as president of the Pines she invited me and my colleague Vice Mayor Jon Levinson to the swearing in festivities at Benvenuto restaurant. We went, thinking we would be there for the ceremony, say a quick hello to our friends in the Pines and go back to our busy lives. Well…we spent the whole day dancing, schmoozing and celebrating with a banquet hall full of people who were thrilled to be a part of Delray. How could we leave?
Shirley and her husband Herman kept in touch when we left office with Hanukkah cards and occasional emails. Over time, the cards stopped and my emails to the Israel’s were sent without receiving a reply. I read a few of the emails early this morning. Shirley’s funeral is later today. They were a mix of inquiries about my children and observations about Delray. They were filled with warm sentiment and genuine love for this community.
I don’t how many people are still around who will remember Shirley Israel and the many other leaders who made a big difference in this town.
They supported bond issues to improve older neighborhoods, attended visioning conferences and goal setting sessions, backed good candidates, wore uniforms and patrolled our shopping centers and helped us after so many hurricanes.
I will remember them. Always. Shirley was very, very special.
Copyright © 2024 · Genesis Framework · WordPress · Log in