Living History

The EJS Project is changing lives in our community.

“This is the time to show up. This is the time to work hard.” –EJS Project founder and executive director Emmanuel “Dupree” Jackson.

My friend Dupree speaks the truth.

What an important message.

It is time to get to work. It is time to make a difference.

Recently, I spent a few days (virtually) following Dupree and a group of teenagers from the EJS Project as they traveled from Delray Beach to Alabama to soak up history.

I followed their adventures on social media as they met with leaders and learned how history informs our present and our future. I watched with pride as these young leaders learned how they can shape the world they are about to inherit. Even through Facebook videos, you can see when the lights turn on in a young person’s mind. You can feel the spark.

Yes, something very special is happening at EJS. It’s extraordinary to watch.

The EJS Project has vision.

The EJS Project is ambitious and the EJS Project is changing lives by educating and empowering future leaders.

And we need leadership more than ever.

We need it in Delray Beach, we need it in Florida, in America and in our world.

Leadership moves mountains. It’s just that simple.

The goal of the “Young Legislators Trip 2024” was to educate and open the eyes of future leaders. And based on what I watched online; the trip was a success.

The teens went to Selma, Alabama. They walked the Edmund Pettis Bridge, met with the extraordinary Bryan Stevenson (whose Equal Justice Initiative is nothing short of miraculous) and they talked to mayors and legislators about the future. They also visited the Legacy Museum in Montgomery which displays the history of slavery and racism in America. The museum was founded by the Equal Justice Initiative.

It is one thing to learn about history and talk about it in some classroom. It is quite another to walk in the steps of giants who risked their lives to move this nation forward.

The EJS Project allows our children—and they are our children—to explore history and learn why it is relevant to our present and our future.

History is never really the past—it informs our day to day and that’s why I was thrilled to see these kids take a  journey through the cradle of the civil rights movement.

I was overjoyed when they visited Mr. Stevenson, a personal hero of mine. Bryan Stevenson’s life was portrayed in the movie “Just Mercy.” A few years back, I had a chance to see him speak at a Leadership Florida meeting. He gave the single best speech I’ve ever seen—and I’ve seen  lots of speeches.

Mr. Stevenson has devoted his life to defending those wrongly condemned or those not afforded proper legal representation. He’s a courageous man and it makes my heart sing to know that the kids from EJS had time with someone who believes that “somebody has to stand when other people are sitting. Somebody has to speak when other people are quiet.”

Stevenson also talks about the concept of proximity.

This idea is often used in the context of you can’t hate someone if you get to know them and so we are called to be proximate to others. I also believe it can be used to describe what EJS is doing; ensuring that our youth is proximate to the action so that our kids can understand how our world works or why it sometimes falls short.

I believe with every fiber of my being that it is important for all of us to be exposed to the trailblazers in our world. Mr. Stevenson is a remarkable example, as were John Lewis and Martin Luther King Jr., who led a march to the Edmund Pettus Bridge so that our kids can cross that bridge safely today.

But as important as it is to walk in the steps of giants, it’s also important to note that heroes are everywhere we look if we open our eyes.

Earlier this year, a marker was placed near our public beach to commemorate the integration of that beach and the work of local icon Alfred “Zack” Straghn who made it happen.

I was privileged to know Mr. Straghn who was very generous with his time. He made it a point to meet with and educate people from many walks of life in his beloved Delray Beach. I was one of thousands that he touched.

But in our fast-paced world, I often wonder if these heroes get forgotten with the tides which rise and fall with the currents of the day.

That’s why I’m so glad that retired fire chief Kerry Koen made it his mission to place that marker for his friend Zack on A1A near the pavilion so that generations can learn and remember.

Kerry is himself, a local hero, generous with his time and his knowledge. He has touched thousands and has become the gold standard for a fire chief.

The best leaders are generous. They are born to share, and they are passionate about expanding opportunities for others.

That’s what attracted us to Dupree and the EJS Project. The Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation got involved with a small grant and we have watched the EJS Project grow, while enduring some challenges that might have stopped a less passionate movement. But instead of seeing them shrink when obstacles emerged, we watched their resilience strengthen and we watched their mission expand.

We are committed as well…the foundation is setting aside $50,000 a year for three years for EJS’s mission. They need commitment from funders, and we are happy to stand alongside them as they transform lives.

We believe the future of Delray is brighter because of organization’s such as EJS. And we hope others will step up and watch this special nonprofit build the next generation of leaders.

Time & Lasting Impact

Stanley Tate: from humble beginnings to lasting prominence and impact.

In three weeks, I’ll be 60.

It’s a birthday my mother, who passed away in 1998 at age 59, never saw.

That sad fact gives me pause. Because she didn’t get this far, I’ve been contemplating this birthday for a while now. It’s been there– on the horizon— for 26 years. Now it’s here.

I think about mom every single day.

I miss her.

Some days that dull ache is sharp.

Whenever I see a movie she would have loved; whenever there’s a family milestone I know she would have savored, I feel that loss and the experience becomes bittersweet. She’s missed by so many.  She’s missed so much.

Four years ago at this very time, I was in the throes of a knock-down brawl with Covid.

There were moments—too many to contemplate—where I did not think I would get out of Bethesda alive. I try not to think about that period, but I still do. There are times when I can’t quiet my mind. There are mornings when I wake up and for a split second, I’m back in that loud ICU room isolated, struggling to breathe.

Then I realize I’m safe, and a wave of gratitude washes over me. I’m thankful to be alive. I’m thankful for the good in my life. I’m aware of how fragile we are.

During my Covid battle, I kept thinking that if I didn’t make it, I would be younger than my mother was when she lost her battle with cancer. I thought about all that she missed; grandchildren growing up and doing great things, time with my dad, time in Florida, a place she loved.

What would I have missed if that damn virus claimed me?

Four years later, millions of lives later, I think about those who didn’t make it. I think of their families, and I think of those whose lives were transformed by long Covid.

They say that people grow when challenged. I believe that’s true.

Strength through adversity is the phrase.

“The strongest steel is forged by the hottest fires. It is pounded and struck repeatedly… The fire gives it power and flexibility, and the blows give it strength,” says the writer, Sherrilyn Kenyon. “Those two things make the metal pliable and able to withstand every battle it’s called upon to fight.”

Indeed.

But sometimes those fires engulf people. Sometimes the strongest people succumb.

That realization puts everything in perspective. We are all passing through. Let’s make the most of it. That’s my prayer for everyone.

It’s what we do with the time we are given that matters. Life is about love. Life is about service. Life is about connections.

It’s also about faith, creating and appreciating magic, making and keeping friends and leaving things better than we found them. My mom did all of that and more.

She continues to inspire and inform me. Life may end, but love endures.

A Life In Service to the future

Florida lost a giant last week with the passing of Stanley Tate, a self-made millionaire who was instrumental in the creation and development of the Florida Prepaid College Program.

Mr. Tate died at his Bal Harbour home on July 26. He was 96.

Mr. Tate grew up in a tiny Brooklyn apartment and came to the Sunshine State to attend the University of Florida. He waited tables to pay for college and then became a South Florida real estate mogul. He was well-known in Delray as the developer of the High Point community.

Mr. Tate started the Florida Prepaid program with $600,000 of his own money. The program has helped thousands of parents afford college for their children by allowing those enrolled to lock in tuition rates from the time their children are born. It’s a brilliant model.

In my work at the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation, we took advantage of Mr. Tate’s vision by investing in Take Stock in Children which buys prepaid plans to make college affordable for students who would not otherwise be able to get an education without the lower tuition rates.

Mr. Tate’s legacy is a big one. He will be missed, but his work continues.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Summer Song

“End of the spring

And here she comes back

Hi, hi, hi, hi there

Them summer days

Those summer days” —Hot Fun in the Summertime, Sly and the Family Stone

“Summer breeze makes me feel fine

Blowin’ through the jasmine in my mind.” – Summer Breeze, Seals & Crofts

Summer.

Just the word conjures up so many memories.

Summer was once the most magical season—there was summer romance, summer vacations and summer songs. Summer was the season we pined for all year long.

But summer— as we once knew it—has changed.

The sun-kissed sultry season has been replaced by stifling and often stunning heat. Lazy days in a hammock don’t seem possible anymore. It’s just too darn hot.

These days, we have new terms to grapply with: “heat domes,” “super storms”, “Saharan dust.”

Maybe these things existed way back when, but I sure don’t remember them. I do remember the ideal of the endless summer, days spent chasing tennis balls and nights spent under streetlights hanging with the kids in the neighborhood.

Hot fun in the summertime has been replaced by a fear of what the tropics may unleash on our lives (and our insurance rates).

Yikes.

I’ve been thinking about how summer has changed. Each day I say a prayer when I come to the office that our ancient A/C survived the night. At home, I stress out with every noise I hear or imagine coming from our air conditioner. When did we last replace the system? Will this be the summer that it dies?

We all know the rules—air conditioners break on Friday nights when temps hit 95 and fire alarms chirp at 3 a.m.

But I digress.

I’d rather write and think about summers past.

When I was a kid, we spent our summers at the Stony Brook Swim and Racquet Club, which we called “The Club.”

It was an oasis for middle-class families, many of whom lived in Levitt Homes. We had 17 tennis courts, four hard courts and 13 clay courts, a wall for paddle ball, a basketball court, a kiddie pool, a big people pool, a concession stand, and a gazebo.

My most memorable summers were spent within the confines of “The Club.” It was a family club; our moms took us every day and our dads joined us on the weekends. My best friends were there and that was where I found and lost my first summer loves. They were truly ‘the wonder years’.

We were outside all day and a good part of the night in those days.

If it was hot, I don’t remember. All I know is nothing stopped us from playing tennis and paddle ball for hours on end.

Truth be told, more than the weather has changed from those halcyon days.

It seemed like families spent more time together back then. We didn’t have the distraction of phones or the doom scrolling temptations of social media.

I wasn’t the one paying or sweating the bills back then, but it seemed like middle class families had the luxury of leisure time and the ability to enjoy a good life.

We lived in Suffolk County on the east end of Long Island.  We were proximate to wealth, snug in our suburban cocoon.  Still, we saw how the other half lived when our club’s tennis team travelled to play in places called “Old Field” and “Belle Terre.”

Personally, I wasn’t impressed. The country clubs felt “stuffy”, and they didn’t have paddle ball courts where you could watch middle aged New York City raised weekend athletes dive on asphalt chasing a little black ball. That was cool.

Those were some days…I loved those days.

My two best friends had these wonderful dads. Hank and Mickey were legendary characters. They were fun and funny, and they loved hanging with us too. Summers were filled with bear hugs, jokes and playful ribbing. My dad and I bonded over tennis and to this day the sport connects us.

Summer was when we gathered, all of us. It was a community and we felt a part of things.

These days summer is when we hibernate.  Floridians wait for winter. We have the best winters.

Still, too many kids while away their time staring at screens, wearing headsets, playing video games alone or with ‘remote’ friends.

I’m grateful those distractions weren’t there for me and my friends. In fact, I wonder whether I would have made friends if those days were like the present. But not only did we make friends, we kept them. Why? Because we made memories together and memories bond you.

The Wonder Years come and go in a blur. It’s like a long summer day.  It seems like it will go on forever only to fade–forever.  But I’m glad I experienced those days with guys named Scott, Dave, Dewey, Ben, Joe and Howie. Some of those friendships were nurtured by our time at the club, others friends came later, but we made a lot of our memories during those magical summer months.

Labor Day marked an end point. On Labor Day we walked every inch of the club reminiscing about what we just experienced. We recounted our summer loves, we talked about the trouble we got in, the trouble we escaped and we joked around. We remembered our triumphs and our defeats on the Har-Tru courts and we dreamt of the future and the places we would go.

Oh, how I wish we captured those moments, but I suppose in a way we did. Oh, how wish I could revisit those seasons in the sun.

 

 

For those who came of age in the 70s, here are 10 memorable summer tunes.

“School’s Out”- Alice Cooper 1972

“Afternoon Delight”- Starland Vocal Band 1976

“Beach Baby” – The First Class 1974

“Dreams” – Fleetwood Mac 1977

“Rock The Boat” – Hues Corporation 1973

“Rich Girl” – Hall & Oates 1976

“Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel” – Tavares 1976

“Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl) – Looking Glass 1972.

“Billy, Don’t Be a Hero” – Bo Donaldson and The Heywoods 1974

“Little Willy” – Sweet 1973

 

 

 

Bringing Stories To Life

The beautiful Delray Beach Playhouse.

A few weeks ago, I shared with you that I was writing a play.

Well…I submitted my work for a new play festival sponsored by the Delray Beach Playhouse.

I’m pleased—and somewhat shocked to announce—that my play was chosen as one of 10 to be performed at the festival October 19-20.

I am beyond thrilled by this news.

First, it was all I could do to muster the nerve to hit send a few months back. I’m very much a beginner in this world so sharing my work felt more than a little overwhelming.

Second, I had to scramble to re-write my play, which is much longer than the 10-20 page requirement of the festival. That’s not easy, I cut out two characters, condensed scenes and tried my best to stick to the rules.

I’ve known about this competition for over a year and thought maybe… just maybe… I should give it a go. After all, as Wayne Gretzky once said: “you miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take.”

But because my play “The Cafe on Main” is conceived as a full-length piece, I thought I’d write something else for the festival.

I started on another idea: “The Ghosts of Lake Ida” before writing myself into a ditch. It happens. Writing isn’t easy. There are lots of ditches when you sit staring at a blank page—it’s easy to give up.

But I didn’t.

So, with “Ghosts” retired (for now) I went back to the Café on Main and shortened it, with no time to spare before the deadline. When I hit the send button, I felt a jolt of satisfaction and relief. No matter what happened, I figured I was in the game.

When I learned that the play was selected, I was overwhelmed with excitement. I love to write, but fiction and specifically playwriting is new to me, and I was forced to use and develop a new set of creative muscles. I think it’s healthy on the eve of my 60th birthday to try something new. I would encourage all of you to do the same.

The experience with the Delray Beach Playhouse has been nothing short of joyful. Marianne Regan is the director who spearheads this effort and it’s a big one. The competition attracts a fair number of submissions, and the commitment is real: reading, judging, casting, rehearsals, marketing, ticket sales and technical production. It’s something to behold—at least for this rookie.

I spent a recent weekend watching over 130 actors read for various parts in the plays that were selected. I was amazed at the talent that showed up on a holiday weekend to snag a role in never-before-seen dramas and comedies.

We saw actors and actresses of all ages—each so talented, everyone bringing their own creativity to the roles. I got to meet several playwrights—all so talented. When I heard their work, I was blown away and to be honest a little bit intimidated. I’m not sure I’m in their league. But here I am and it has been a joyous experience.

When I first heard my words being recited by talented actors I had a visceral reaction. My wife and I teared up when Peter Salzer and Nancy Ferraro auditioned. Their chemistry was off the charts—they were creating magic right in front of us making my words come to life in a way I could never fathom.

I thought back to those sleepless nights writing away on my iPhone app in the dark trying to fashion believable dialogue—trying to tell a story, trying to write something that might stir an audience’s emotions.

Hearing these actors and actresses read various scenes and bring them to life—stirred something deep inside of me. I think I caught the bug—four years post-Covid– this is the bug I want to catch. The desire to be creative, the desire to try new things, the willingness to be vulnerable despite those nagging doubts that stop so many of us. That’s the bug I want to catch, keep and explore.

I didn’t write “Hamilton” but that’s Ok. It’s my first effort and I’m committed to learning more about this wonderful art form.

In October, I will walk nervously into the beautiful 77-year-old playhouse overlooking Lake Ida and watch five talented cast members make magic. I sure hope the audience will like it, but even if they don’t, I’ll be happy and forever grateful to my hometown playhouse for giving me and others a chance.

 

Art Is The Highest Form Of Hope

The wonderful Randy DelLago is a local example of how the arts touches generations.

About a month ago, the arts community was shocked when Gov. Ron DeSantis vetoed $32 million in grants designed to support 663 cultural organizations in Florida.

The move was unexpected—at least by the arts community. With the stroke of a pen, Florida went from near the top of states to the bottom in terms of support for the arts.

In hindsight, maybe the veto shouldn’t have been surprising. Maybe, it’s time to listen and yes believe what some politicians say. That sentence sounds counterintuitive since trusting politicians is not something we are used to, but Gov. DeSantis did recommend $0 for the arts when he released his budget in December 2023.

But the arts community thought the “normal process” would restore funds. They were wrong.

When the veto was announced, I fielded a call from a wonderful journalist named Sharon Geltner who was writing an article for the Palm Beach Arts Paper about the cuts. Sharon wrote a great article about the issue that I recommend you read. Here’s a link: https://palmbeachartspaper.com/desantis-cuts-all-arts-and-culture-funding-in-florida-leaving-pb-county-in-shock/

I don’t want to write another piece about the cuts and the toxic politics that are driving things these days. I do want to go on record about the value of the arts.

In Sharon’s article, I talked about the arts as an economic driver and noted that with all the companies relocating to Palm Beach County there would be a need for a robust cultural scene. If we aspire to be a world class community—and I hope we do—we can’t be, if we don’t have world class cultural opportunities. The people who live here deserve it, the people who are coming here are going to demand it.

That’s why I am keeping a close eye on The Center for Arts & Innovation slated for Mizner Park in Boca Raton.

Over the past few years, I’ve had numerous conversations with founder Andrea Virgin and her vision is ambitious and compelling. I’m rooting for her. While the project has been billed as the new cultural hub for Boca, the Center’s impact transcends city borders.  If the Center succeeds it will have regional impact and could even be known internationally. It’s something worth rooting for.

For the record, the arts in Florida is big business–$39 billion in Florida and $335 million in Palm Beach County.

But there are intangibles as well.

And that’s what I’ve been thinking about these days.

I believe the arts are what make us human. I believe the arts create empathy and we need more empathy in our world.

It’s art that endures. We will be talking about The Beatles, Shakespeare, Van Gogh, Dylan and Michelangelo as long as we walk the Earth.

In these divisive and dangerous times, it’s the arts that bring us together. We can all appreciate a great Chris Stapleton song, right?

And let’s not discount the empathy piece; cynics may refer to empathy as hokum, psychobabble or even hooey (I’ve always wanted to use the word hooey in a sentence, cross one off the bucket list).

But I’m going to posit that empathy is everything. If we sympathize and understand others, we have a chance to connect, we have a shot at progress.

If we see a play, watch a movie, read a book, listen to music, or visit an art museum we open ourselves to the possibility of seeing other perspectives and learning about new worlds.

New vistas shift our molecules and that’s a good thing.

To think the arts are just “fluff”, “extras” and something you fund only if your flush—well I don’t think so.

Yet, when we think of arts funding or arts education it’s often in the vein of being secondary to the “more important” stuff. What if there is nothing more important? What if it’s all important and we are challenged to find a way to teach trigonometry and music?

If you don’t think art can change the world well then… you’ve never heard the sax solo in “Jungleland”, you’ve never experienced the magic of the Crest Theatre when local musicians re-enacted “The Last Waltz” and you never walked among the plein air artists camped out on Atlantic Avenue and talked to them about what they see when they look at sights we pass every day.

Art matters. Art is the highest form of hope.

 

Speaking of the arts….we lost a local arts legend last week.

Randolph DelLago, who spent more than 40 years delighting audiences as the artistic director at the Delray Beach Playhouse passed away. He was 77.

Randy was a larger-than-life person. A wonderful entertainer with a booming voice and a style all his own.

After his long stint at the Delray Playhouse, Randy joined the Wick Theatre in Boca last year.

He was a theater legend, a true pillar who touched generations of performers who took to social media last week to share their appreciation.

He was also the man who gave me my first and only stage role, a walk-on role in “Scrooge” at the Delray Playhouse years ago. I played the mayor who walks across the stage and encounters Scrooge who fell on the ice. Mr. Scrooge extends his hand so I can pull him to his feet. I think about helping him, then walk past. It got a big cheer and I immediately retired. Best to go out on top, I figured.

Mr. DelLago will be missed. But his impact will live on.

Delray lost another legend with the passing of Dr. Lynda Hunter, the long time children’s librarian who retired in 2016.

For 31 glorious years, Lynda enchanted children with her storytelling and encouragement to read. My kids benefitted from Lynda’s magic and both became voracious readers, a habit that has lasted throughout their lives.

I adored Lynda. She helped when I was mayor and we launched a “Get Caught Reading” program. Her enthusiasm for books was unrivaled. Her love of children boundless.

In a social media post, the Delray Library summed up her legacy beautifully describing how generations of children flocked to her. The post described her warmth as a lasting legacy.

How true, how beautiful. Dr. Hunter was one of a kind. She will be sorely missed and always remembered.

 

 

 

The Last Days Of Federer

A can’t miss documentary whether or not you like tennis.

“There’s a trick to the ‘graceful exit.’ It begins with the vision to recognize when a job, a life stage, or a relationship is over–and let it go. It means leaving what’s over without denying its validity or its past importance to our lives. It involves a sense of future, a belief that every exit line is an entry, that we are moving up, rather than out.” -Ellen Goodman

“Every ending is a beginning. We just don’t know it at the time.” -Mitch Albom

Everything has to come to an end, sometime.”-L. Frank Baum, The Marvelous Land of Oz

I watched the documentary “Federer: Twelve Final Days” twice in recent weeks.

Available on Amazon Prime, the emotionally charged documentary chronicles the last 12 days of Roger Federer’s storied tennis career.

Originally intended as a home movie, the film is intimate, inspiring, and poignant. The documentary sticks with you and makes you think about beginnings and endings and the stuff that goes between those bookends.

Roger Federer is one of the greatest players of all time—but he transcends sport and has become a global ambassador who exhibits class, grace, and sportsmanship.

In so many ways, he’s a singular figure: handsome, wildly talented, rich, a devoted husband and father who is beloved the world over. I can’t recall any controversy in his career or personal life. And yet, there’s something vulnerable about him too. That vulnerability is on full display in the documentary as we see a man forced by time and injury to give up a game he loves with all his heart.

Federer’s love of the game contrasts with other great players—Andre Agassi who wrestled with his feelings for the sport after being driven by an overzealous dad and Bjorn Borg who walked away from the game at age 26.

Borg features prominently in the Federer documentary—almost as a corollary to Roger’s experience. One left early and was troubled, the other leaves reluctantly and every bit as passionate for the game as he was as a young athlete.

Both Borg and Agassi played at the Delray Beach Tennis Stadium. I met Agassi briefly when he played the Delray Open near the end of his career. He seemed shy and reserved but he was an electric player with a ton of charisma. He made the stadium shake when he took the court.

The great ones make that kind of impact. They have a way of moving us.

Watching Roger Federer play tennis was sublime. He was graceful, powerful, hit remarkable shots and won a lot. But he was vulnerable too. He had rivals who beat him. He struggled with bad knees and ultimately age and wear forced him to quit. Father Time remains undefeated.

What I like about Roger so much is his candor. You can see the struggle, you can feel the disappointment he’s experiencing having to give up a game that shaped his life. He pledges not to be “a ghost” like some others who left the game. He’s open about his love for tennis and for his rivals too.

And his rivals respond in kind. Rafael Nadal weeps after Roger’s last match. Novak Djokovic does so as well.

Isn’t that amazing? Isn’t it life affirming to see rivals celebrate each other’s greatness?

When you’re young and on the rise, when you’re young and trying to figure it all out, you can’t see the end. Yes, you know it’s there, but you don’t really see it, you really don’t believe it until it stares you in the face.

Roger Federer went out in fine fashion—surrounded by adoring fans, grateful rivals, a loving wife and family and a world of opportunity in front of him.

Most of us won’t quite measure up to that high bar. The documentary made me think of people who quietly retire and transition to new lives without fanfare. The age of the gold watch seems like a quaint relic of a distant past. I know many fine people who just sort of….went away.

I’m at an age where I see both ends of the spectrum—young lions and lionesses on the way up and older friends slowing down. I enjoy spending time with the former, but I love spending time with the latter because they have the wisdom and the wounds that only experience can gift you.  They’ve travelled the road we’re all on.

If you care to watch the Federer documentary you will marvel at the footage of a sublime athlete, but you will never forget the grace of a fine human being wrestling with saying goodbye to a great love.

 

 

 

Pharmageddon And The Third Place

The iconic Huber Pharmacy.

Fortune Magazine ran a piece recently that has stuck with me.

The article talked about the death of the American pharmacy. A bit overblown perhaps, but intriguing nonetheless.

As the son of a retail pharmacist, I read the piece through a personal lens. I saw up close how important the neighborhood pharmacy is to the community. Losing that staple in the neighborhood is yet another example of a thread pulled with unexpected consequences.

The neighborhood pharmacy has been on the ropes for decades now—competition from chains, big box stores, online pharmacies and supermarkets squeezed the independents making them as rare as bismuth crystals. (Look it up, fascinating).

Sure, there are a few independents left—we have a few in Delray and Boca—but they are rare sightings in a world where Walgreens and CVS seem to fill every corner. While writing this blog, I learned of the permanent closing of the iconic Huber Pharmacy, a staple on Atlantic Avenue for decades.

But now the chain stores are having a meltdown as well.

Big chains are shutting down hundreds of locations creating a phenomenon known as “pharmacy deserts” which sadly seems to impact vulnerable populations the most. According to Fortune, in 2023 there were 4,550 fewer pharmacies than a decade ago. And the National Community Pharmacists Association said in February that several thousand more local pharmacies, up to a third of its members, could close this year.

We are not quite at that point in the Delray /Boca area, but I think it’s fair to anticipate that based on trends, we may see a few of our chain stores close.

My dad, long retired, but with a lot of experience in the field, has always wondered how so many stores could survive so close to one another. How could they be adequately staffed? Wouldn’t they begin to cannibalize each another?

I counted 9 CVS stores in Delray and 29 in Boca Raton. (I may be off a little, this was a cursory internet search), Walgreen’s has a similar footprint. That’s a whole lot.

In addition, pharmacists are under stress these days. There’s a term for this kind of burn out; it’s called “pharmageddon.”

Citing overwork and added responsibilities (vaccinations, flu shots etc.) pharmacists are fleeing the industry at an alarming rate.

All of this adds up to a lot an worrisome situation. Pharmacies and pharmacists are important front line health care assets, a critical part of our local infrastructure as we learned during the pandemic.

Competition, burn-out, recruiting issues, general challenges in the retail sector and relentless squeezing of profits by insurance middlemen are conspiring to pinch even the large chains.

And if the large chains are challenged to survive, how are the small pharmacies supposed to make it?

I find all of it sad.

Truth be told, I won’t be broken-hearted if we have a few less chain stores  although I would feel bad for the employees. But it’s the loss of the independent drug store that stings.

In typing that sentence, I realize I am part of the problem. I do shop occasionally at an independent, but it has been years since I’ve filled a prescription at a store that resembles my dad’s old Maple Pharmacy, which is still going strong in Smithtown, N.Y.

It’s not that I enjoy CVS or Walgreen’s, I find CVS’ lack of cashiers mystifying since I see people walk out of the store in frustration after being unable to scan items. What makes the chains alluring is the convenience—they are everywhere, even if that might be changing.

But I remember when we valued a relationship with our local retailer. I remember how my father and his partner knew every customer and how those customers trusted their advice and recommendations.

I did get to know my pharmacist at CVS until he disappeared one day. I hear that he’s back, but truth be told, I started using the drive through where I barely see anyone so I wouldn’t know.

Those micro relationships are important touch points. I used to know my teller at Truist, until they replaced her with a voice through a small microphone. She used to give my dogs treats, until one day she was gone. It made it easier for me to switch banks–I no longer had a relationship at Truist.

The neighborhood grocer was another fixture of a time long past. I think Trader Joe’s comes closest because their staff is friendly and helpful, a throwback to a more personal time.

Lately, I’ve noticed what seems to me to be an inordinate number of restaurants going out of business in our town. High rents, high costs of goods, difficulty finding employees, and tons of competition in a hard business leads to the loss of many staples. I will miss Cabana El Rey, I really enjoyed Zima and Christina’s is a major loss—it was a sweet place to meet friends for breakfast and lunch.

The common touchpoint was that all those places were independent and as a result we got to know the wait staff, the managers, the owners, and the bar tenders over the years. For example, I love the food at Papas Tapas, but I also enjoy waving to Papa who is always there with a smile.

Those kinds of interactions give a place soul.

And friends, we need a large dose of soul in our lives.

I find myself thinking a lot about what makes a place special. It always comes down to the unique threads that stir something inside of us. I find myself thinking about an author I admire who taught me that lesson.

Ray Oldenberg was an urban sociologist and a wonderful writer. He coined the term “third place” which referred to places where people spend time between home (first place) and work (second place). They are the places where we meet people, share ideas, have a good time and build relationships. When we lose those places—the barber shop, the diner, the coffee shop and yes, the pharmacy we lose a little of ourselves as well.

I’m working on a play about a third place. I have no idea how to write a play, but I am trying to capture what a third place can mean to a community. The joy is in the writing, the joy is in the connections we make. And the joy is finding those places where we can nurture our humanity in a world gone cold.

 

News and Notes

I was thrilled to see Esther Isaacs Williams win the Leadership Florida Distinguished Member Award a few weeks ago.

Esther is a wonderful community servant who has been involved for decades in Boca and Delray.

Here’s what Leadership Florida had to say about our friend.

“Ethel Isaacs Williams’ 30-year history of visionary leadership is positively changing communities on local, state, and international levels. She puts into action the principles that are the cornerstone of Leadership Florida. She currently serves as the elected president of The Links, Incorporated, an international not-for-profit corporation and one of the nation’s oldest and largest volunteer service organizations. It has over 17,000 members in over 300 local chapters. In Florida, there are 20 local chapters. The Links members provide over one million hours of documented community service annually. In the over 79-year history of the organization, Ethel is only the third Floridian to serve as an international president. Under her leadership, The Links have expanded national initiatives to include STEMReady, national mentoring for students, and expanded financial literacy programming.”

Congratulations and well done!

Have a safe and happy 4th. Happy birthday America.

A Wonderful Life


We lost former Delray Beach City Commissioner Bill Schwartz last week. He  passed one week after turning 100 which is one heck of a run.

Bill packed a lot into a century of life including leading troops into battle on D-Day.
He was generous in sharing his experiences and I just rewatched a Channel 5 story from three years ago about D Day that featured Bill sharing his memories with a large crowd at Sinai Residences. At age 97, Bill still commanded the room and charmed the TV reporter.
He was a kind man who lived a life of service.
We became friends when we served together on the Delray Beach City Commission. We only served one year together when Bill decided not to run for re-election but we remained friends meeting for periodic lunches and long talks at the old 5th Avenue Grill.
Bill was fascinated by politics, was an ardent supporter of Israell, was interested in business and was involved in a wide range of charitable activities.
In recent years, Bill kept in touch via  email. I was on his list and he emailed frequently   Bill shared his world views or interesting articles he came across.
It was comforting to know he was still out there thinking and caring about a range of topics.
I met Bill Schwartz close to 40 years ago when I was a reporter and he was active in an organization called PROD, which stood for Progressive Residents of Delray.
Progressive meant something different in those days. PROD was a civic group, probably the largest in town and their meetings were “musts” if you were a politician or a journalist.
Bill was VP of PROD and a gracious MC. He lived in Delaire and served on the Planning and Zoning Board.
When we worked together on the Commission his lovely wife Onalee became ill and you could see the toll it took on Bill’s face.
I remember that our commission and staff, tight knit at the time, tried our best to support Bill and his family.
Lots of time has passed since those days but I will always remember Bill fondly.
One particularly long evening, Bill noticed that I wasn’t feeling well. He asked me what was wrong and I told him I had a headache, a rarity for me.
The next day I received a series of emails from him with advice on how to cope with and prevent a headache.
I thought that was really nice of him. It was a simple gesture, but meaningful and classy. Very fitting for Bill.
I found that old email last week after I read his remarkable obituary.
My favorite Bill Schwartz story is when he shared an interesting experience that he had at a chain restaurant, I think it may have been Red Robin.
This particular chain decorated its walls with old photos of Army fliers. Bill saw a photo on the wall that looked familiar. Turns out it was him—taken at a flight school. There was Mr. Schwartz looking dapper in his flight suit and scarf.
Turns out that photo was used chainwide. Bill got a kick  out of that.
I’ll miss my old teammate. He was quite a guy.

Investing In Our Future

 

Note: Some of you may know that I’ve entered a new and exciting phase of my life/career working to build and grow the work of the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation. For me and my teammates, this is a labor of love because Carl changed our lives and the lives of so many others. While we lost Mr. D last August, his work continues through his foundation. It’s the honor of a lifetime to be involved. Periodically, I hope to share what we’re doing because it’s important to spotlight some of the great work being done in our community. Our main focus is helping transformational leaders and programs in Palm Beach and Broward counties. We’ve only just begun.

Communities are ever-changing, that’s what makes them interesting.

People, businesses, leaders, and organizations come and go.

But it’s the pillars that stand the test of time.

It’s the pillars that build communities, quietly, effectively and over a long span of time.

The George Snow Scholarship Fund is one of those pillars. The Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation is honored to partner with this wonderful non-profit to build a better future for our youth.

Recently, we announced a $200,000 gift to the Snow Fund. The monies will support a new program we’re calling “DeSantis Scholars”—which will enable students to pursue vocational education in fields such as nursing, HVAC, electrical, plumbing and more. The scholarships were handed out over the weekend at an event at Lynn University’s magnificent Wold Performing Arts Center.

Mr. DeSantis, who briefly attended Florida State University but did not complete his degree, believed that students who wanted to pursue careers that didn’t require college should be encouraged to do so.

We’re pleased to have a partner like George Snow to help make that happen.

Since 1982, the non-profit has given about $26.4 million in scholarships to local students looking to improve their lives. That’s an astounding number. The Snow Foundation is making a profound difference in the lives of our young people.

Through the decades, the Boca Raton-based Snow Fund has been there for students in Palm Beach County. Recently, the fund was invited to help students in Broward, a testament to their reputation as stellar scholarship administrators.

We’ve had our eyes on the George Snow Fund for some time. It’s hard to miss their impact:

  • 2,943 scholarships since 1982.
  • 887 Snow Scholars currently enrolled in college.
  • Almost $5 million awarded in 2023.

 

But their effectiveness goes beyond the numbers: 90 percent of Snow Scholars graduate compared to 62 percent nationally. Many of those scholars come back home and benefit our local community.

So, we were thrilled to partner with such a pillar of the community. We were especially taken by the holistic thinking at the Snow Fund. Students receive inspirational messages to start their week, there are webinars that teach the “soft skills” needed to succeed and scholars receive care packages as well.

It’s been a remarkably effectively model, honed over 42 years by a leadership team led by President Tim Snow.

When you meet Tim and  Development Director Jay Brandt you are swept away by the passion they bring to the cause. For Tim, the son of George Snow, the mission is personal. But he has managed to infuse that passion into a dedicated team and board that have created a family of scholars.

“When you receive a scholarship from the George Snow Scholarship Fund, you become a part of our family. You can count on us to help you in anyway we can,” says Tim.

And help they do: from career development advice, college physicals, an emergency fund for unexpected needs, to laptop computers and mental health counseling Snow Scholars are cared for like family.

Did we mention senior portraits? How about “the scholar closet” to help the budget conscious find free clothing and shoes? There’s also the “Snow Family Network”, a unique social networking platform where Scholars and Snow Alumni can connect and help each other find jobs and internships.

That’s the “wow” factor we look for at the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation.

We are thrilled to begin this important partnership. Mr. DeSantis would be proud.

 

 

Heroes & Grace

Watching the ceremonies marking the 80th anniversary of D-Day was a deeply moving experience.

To see the last members of the Greatest Generation back in Normandy fills your heart with pride and gratitude.

This level of service and sacrifice defies description. Thank goodness for these people. We are a free people because of their heroism.

Over the weekened, I listened to an interview about D-Day with retired four-star Admiral James Stravridis, the former Supreme Allied Commander of NATO.

Adm. Stravridis is a remarkable man and has a unique way of explaining complex global affairs.

But on this day, he talked about why it’s important to thank people who serve.

“Those of us in the military really appreciate when people say, ‘thank you for your service’,” he said. “It’s meaningful. But we should also thank everyone who serves. That includes teachers, police, firefighters, and others who serve the community.”

That’s a simple and reasonable request. But a powerful one too.

I thought about Admiral Stravridis’ words and realized that we don’t often take the time to say thank you to those who serve.

There’s a crisis in law enforcement–an inability to recruit– in large part because people feel police work is a thankless job.

Same with teaching and a whole host of fields ranging from nursing and the fire service to government employees who are often viciously maligned and threatened.

It’s a doom loop and it’s hurtful. Criticism and condemnation–especially if it’s unwarranted and mean-spirited leave lasting scars.

People who go into public service are not seeking to get rich. You simply can’t get rich in these fields. They are searching for something deeper, they want to make a difference, they long to serve, they want to help and therefore they find “riches” in ways that can’t be measured.

But even the biggest hearts have a limit. If the costs outweigh the benefits, people will find other ways to spend their years.

We humans have a need to feel respected. We want to be seen and appreciated. It costs us nothing to do so.

I’ve been blessed to know many public servants. Teachers, police officers, firefighters, veterans, those that work for nonprofits and a range of others folks who serve us in all sorts of ways.

I lived next door to two boys who grew up to be Marines. I saw them go from little guys playing video games in my house to young men willing to die for their country—just like the D-Day veterans. That level of commitment is to be celebrated, venerated, spoken about, and honored.

That celebration, that respect starts right here at home.

When I see officers or firefighters around town—I stop to say thank you and to share my wish that they stay safe. It’s a dangerous world that they inhabit every time they step out the door.

I also think our thanks and appreciation should extend—like Admiral Stravridis suggests—to all who serve.

As such, we have a teachable moment in Delray Beach right now.

I don’t watch City Commission meetings. But after receiving a bunch of texts about the June 4 meeting, I decided to put it on as background noise while I worked.

Commissioner Rob Long started a conversation about the opaque process to find a group to help get Old School Square’s theater and classrooms going again. Commissioner Long objected to an allegation made at another meeting that the nonprofit that created Old School Square and did a damn good job for decades was under FBI investigation.

It’s just not true.

The truth is there has been no coherent process to replace the nonprofit that built Old School Square and nurtured it for 32 years. It is just a muddled mess, which has compounded the poor and expensive decision to boot the group without a plan.

What transpired was a shrill and embarrassing discussion that further sullied the reputations of valued community servants who gave their time, talent, and treasure to this city for 30 plus years. These people really took a beating, it was unnecessary and undeserving. A majority of the commission didn’t look good  in adminstering the beat down. We can do better.

But the point here is not to re-litigate the Old School Square mess. It’s to point out, that nowhere in this disaster have we found it in our hearts to slow down, stop for a moment, and give thanks to community volunteers.

Instead, we have treated some of our best citizens as if they are criminals. They are not.

Nobody is perfect, and mistakes were made and owned, despite what is being said by people who ought to know better. But when people talk past each other we don’t get anything but hurt.

Mercifully, what’s left of the Old School Square nonprofit wrote a letter the next day to the City Manager saying no more. Inexplicably, the manager had written to the group asking if they still had interest in providing those missing classes and theatre programming. The letter was a joke. Not a funny one either.

But the larger point is we have spent years denigrating, disrespecting, and spreading lies about a group that has brought immeasurable benefits to our town.

The only acknowledgment of that contribution came from Commissioner Angela Burns.

As a result, I wrote her a note of thanks. Mr. Long should also be commended for trying to inject some sense into this topic. He tried to address the false allegations but all it did was unleash another round of hurt.

We need leadership that says thank you. We need a society that doesn’t play gotcha, that seeks to solve, not destroy.

Old School Square was not a perfect organization. Nobody is perfect. But the nonprofit did good things, many good things for a long time.  Our city government has screwed up plenty over the years too. But our local government has also done some amazing things. Accountability is essential, but so is kindness. You can have both. Sometimes it takes courage to stop the cycle of recrimination. It takes leadership to recognize that a community needs to heal and move on.

The Greatest Generation set the example of all examples when they saved the world from monsters and then set about rebuilding the post-war world order.

By comparison, what we deal with locally should be easy. Make no mistake, there is no equivalency between D-Day and the petty personal politics we deal with at home and in Washington D.C.

Still, there are examples we can use from history to build a better world.

We can start with five words: thank you for your service. But you have to mean it. You have to really mean it.