Events and Things to Do in Delray Beach and Boca Raton

Boca Raton and Delray Beach are among the most vibrant communities you’ll ever find.

Both cities feature a vast array of events year-round that are sure to interest people of all ages and interests. From arts festivals and music events to a vibrant food scene and cultural landscape Boca-Delray has it all.

At YourDelrayBoca.com we strive to curate the best events and give you insider’s tips to make your experience the best it can be.

13 April, 2026 2 2 Comments

What Happens When We Stop The Presses

April 13, 2026 By Jeff Perlman 2 Comments

April 9 was Local News Day in America.

As a former journalist, I still subscribe to newspapers, blogs and social media feeds that cover the state of the industry. They talk about the work. They typically don’t celebrate, because frankly there’s not much to celebrate.

Newspapers have been hit hard — real hard — by the Internet. Artificial intelligence poses yet another threat, siphoning off the web traffic that already-dwindling ad revenue depends on. These trends lead to cuts in local newsrooms, and when that happens, we lose something very important: our ability to be informed, to connect, to understand the issues and to make good decisions.

Good journalism holds those in power accountable. Strong local reporting builds community pride, because when you tell the stories of people trying to make a difference, it serves as an impetus for involvement and connection. That ultimately makes for closer, more resilient communities.

At its best, local news serves as the equivalent of the office water cooler — a place we could go to learn what was happening at City Hall, at our schools, in sports, business and culture. It was one of those coveted “third places” where a community could gather around shared information and actually talk to each other. What a concept.

Much of it has gone away. And we are left sorting through the slop served to us by billionaire gatekeepers. Yuck.

Give me the days when the local publisher and editor lived down the street, showed up at Chamber meetings, had breakfast at The Green Owl and sat through long city commission meetings so they could soak up the flavor of the community they were part of.

I think of how much people will miss about their communities if there is nobody there to tell its stories. Consider our own Delray Beach. All the wonderful characters who came here and wrote chapters.

I think about the people who shaped this town as I travel its streets.

When I pull across Lake Ida Road and drive by the Achievement Center for Children & Families I think of its founder Nancy Hurd. Barely 5 feet tall, Nancy built an early childhood learning center that started in a church and grew into a national model. Nancy was a force of nature. I adored her and I relished telling her story as a reporter for the Delray Times in the 80s and 90s.

The center did such a great job that Governor Lawton Chiles came to visit and see for himself. “Walkin Lawton” they called him. He reminded me of Abe Lincoln. The visit was tightly choreographed. But Nancy made sure I had an exclusive with the Governor. We weren’t the biggest paper in the market, but she appreciated our desire to tell her story with care and depth. She took care of me and thousands of others.

As I head east to Swinton and south to my office, I drive by St. Paul’s Episcopal Church where my friend Father Chip Stokes used to serve before becoming the Bishop of New Jersey. Chip was an early leader in race relations, a calm port in any storm. Chip is a quiet leader who cares deeply for people, especially those new to America who came here seeking opportunity.

Newspapers covered his ministry. And we were better off for knowing about his work.

If not for local newspapers, we would not have known about all the volunteers who worked for our police department. Back in the day, we read about all the World War II veterans who retired to Florida and decided to volunteer their time as Citizens on Patrol.

I remember reading and writing stories about Leo Erbstein. Major Erbstein as he was known, with his handlebar mustache, sharp sense of humor, and deep commitment to helping our police department was a larger-than-life character. Unforgettable.

A few weeks ago, I went to see my friend Shelly Pittleman hold court at the Weisman Community Center in West Delray.

On Fridays, Shelly packs the room with seniors for a program he calls “Positively Pittleman.” He reads news stories, riffs on current events and invites guest speakers to share their stories.

It was wonderful to witness. Just pure magic. And I thought, this should be in a community newspaper. Everyone should know about this program and about Shelly who spends just about every waking moment volunteering in the community.

Yes, we miss a lot when we lose our storytellers.

Yeah, yeah, I know that sometimes journalists get it wrong. As a former elected official, I used to get angry when reporters missed the mark. But they are not the enemy of the people, in many ways, community journalism was the glue that bound us together.

There are many reasons why we feel estranged from one another: divisive politics, the dangerous algorithms that keep us angry, too much time in front of screens. All of it contributes to the toxicity we experience. But I believe the diminishment of local journalism is also a reason for our estrangement — maybe more than we realize.

Strong local news builds strong communities. It’s just that simple.

But local journalism costs money, and the advertising and subscription model isn’t cutting it anymore. I think part of the answer is philanthropy. That’s not easy either, because local news — while critically important — is competing against an ocean of good causes.

Still, I maintain we are at risk when stories go untold, when local officials look around and see that nobody is watching, and when issues go uncovered.

We are at a critical juncture in Palm Beach County. A stunning amount of news is happening all at once. West Palm Beach is becoming a major city before our eyes. Financial titans are pouring into the county to set up offices. Real estate is changing rapidly. Technology is transforming our lives and our society, and while that’s exciting, there are troubling things to be concerned about.

Right now, much of it is going unreported or underreported. That puts us in peril.

Journalism may not solve these issues, but it shines a light on them. And when that light dims — or is doused — we all lose.

Loss of an artistic giant

We got the new sad news over the weekend that Lou Tyrell, a titan of local theater passed away suddenly and unexpectedly.

Lou was the founding director of Theatre Lab on the campus of FAU and served as an Eminent Scholar in the Arts at the university.

Lou was well known and highly regarded in the local arts community. Theatre Lab is a treasure. If you haven’t attended, I highly recommend that you do.

In honor of Lou’s life and contributions, Theatre Lab is dedicating the 2026 Owl New Play Festival, which opened this weekend, to his memory.

I was recently back in touch with Lou. I got to know him when he was involved in Delray’s Arts Garage some years ago.

We reconnected when I started writing plays. He was a kind man, generous with his time and knowledge.

He will be deeply missed by all those who knew him. But his influence will last.

30 March, 2026 4 4 Comments

To Theatre With Love

March 30, 2026 By Jeff Perlman 4 Comments

Some theatres are grand, some are bland, but all are magical.

“The arts have a higher purpose. They are here to enrich our lives, expand our vision, enlighten our world, challenge our reality, enable our core beliefs, improve our humanity, activate our imaginations, and to bring into the world that which could not exist but through this vision, talent and invention of artists.” – David Rainey, founder Studio for Actors Houston.

The theater was standing room only.

Every seat taken, every inch of space claimed by people who had driven over, walked over, struggled to find parking — and made their way inside to watch something that had no algorithm behind it, no streaming subscription, no skip button. Just people, on a stage, doing the thing humans have been doing for thousands of years: telling stories to other humans in the same room.

This was Sea Shorts, produced by the Lauderdale by the Sea Players — a community theater festival that just wrapped its tenth year.

Two weekends, six performances, nine short plays, and a company made up entirely of volunteers.

Every actor, every director, every person who schlepped a set piece or adjusted a light or handed out a program: doing it for love. Nothing more, nothing less. Love. That’s the secret sauce. There is nothing that comes close.

I had two plays in the festival this year — “Love After Love” and “Time Table.”

Being selected was an honor. I was genuinely moved by this production. Not because of anything I wrote. Because of what happened in that room.

What Community Theater Actually Is

There’s a tendency to use the phrase “community theater” with a slight wince — a polite softening, as if to say: “it’s not the real thing but isn’t it sweet”. That instinct is completely wrong, and Sea Shorts dismantled it in about ninety minutes flat.

The actors were charming, funny, and talented. The directors made real choices. The audience laughed in exactly the right places, went quiet in exactly the right places, and gave the kind of sustained, full-room applause that you can’t manufacture. That’s art and passion meeting community. It’s electric.

This is what theater was always meant to be — not a luxury for those who can afford the ticket, but a gathering place for everyone.

Why It Matters More Right Now

We are living through a strange and fractured moment. Economic anxiety is real. Social trust is fraying. We spend enormous portions of our lives staring at screens that are specifically engineered to outrage us, isolate us, and keep us scrolling. In that context, the act of sitting in a room full of strangers — laughing together, tearing up together, startled by the same moment — is not a small thing. It feeds your soul.

Theater doesn’t let you look away. It doesn’t offer a comment section. It puts a human being a few feet in front of you and asks you to pay attention, to feel something, to be moved. And here’s what I watched happen at Sea Shorts: an audience of people sat together and shared the same emotional experience. For those ninety minutes or so, they were one room. One community. That’s magic by the sea.

The People Who Make It Happen

I want to say something about the volunteers who produce festivals like Sea Shorts, because they don’t always get their due. These are people who hold day jobs, manage families, navigate the ordinary chaos of adult life — and then show up to rehearsals on weeknights, haul set pieces on weekends, and pour themselves into the work because they believe in it.

That’s a serious commitment.

That’s love.

And the result is not some lesser version of theater. It is theater, in the fullest and most honest sense of the word.

The Lauderdale by the Sea Players have been building something real for a decade. Sea Shorts in its tenth year isn’t a happy accident — it’s the result of hundreds of people, over hundreds of rehearsal hours, choosing to invest in something that belongs to their community.

What This Does for a Playwright

I came to Sea Shorts as a writer. I left as a believer. It happened to me at the Delray Beach Playhouse as well. And when I travelled to Columbus, Ohio to share a story that happened here in Delray.

There is a particular kind of joy that comes from hearing a room full of people laugh at something you wrote or watching them lean forward in their seats because they want to know what happens next. It’s humbling and thrilling in equal measure. But more than that — more than any personal satisfaction — I was moved by the simple fact of the gathering itself.

That’s what theater does. It gathers us. It says: come be in this room, with these people, for this hour. Leave your phone in your pocket. Pay attention. You might feel something you haven’t felt in a while. You might look over at the stranger sitting next to you and realize you’re both crying, or both laughing, and in that moment, you are not strangers at all.

That’s the power of local theater. That’s why it matters. That’s why we need it — maybe now more than ever.

If there’s a community theater near you, go. Buy a ticket. Or find a volunteer night and show up with a willingness to work. You’ll be surprised what’s waiting for you inside that room.

Remembering

We lost two fine people recently that I wanted to remember in this space.

Sonya Costin was a close friend of our family, a fixture in Delray Beach for decades and an all around wonderful person.

She was married to her Seacrest High School sweetheart former City Commissioner Bob Costin. The duo ran Costin’s Flowers & Gifts in downtown Delray for over 45 years.

Bob and Sonya used to joke that they were downtown before downtown was cool.

How true that was.

Bob and I hit it off while serving on the Commission together and we became close to Sonya as a result. That meant dinners out (mostly Longhorn and Il Girasol) and time together during holidays. We even went to a destination wedding together in Florence, Italy and to Lake Tahoe together.

We have nothing but fond memories of the Costin’s. We lost Bob a few years back. I miss him and think of him often.

Bob and Sonya enjoyed time in their “chalet” on Lake Burton in Georgia and went all over the country in their prized Bluebird Wanderlodge.

Sonya was a teacher and a graduate of FSU. She encouraged my daughter who went into education.

Memorial contributions may be made to the Achievement Centers for Children & Families, 555 Northwest 4th Street, Delray Beach, FL 33444, visit www.AchievementCentersFL.org for more information.

Sonya will be missed by all those who knew her.

We also send our condolences to the family of Ivan Ladizinsky who passed March 12 at age 92.

Ivan served as the city Public Information Officer during my term in office. We worked on annual reports, town hall meetings, newsletters etc., during that time. He came to us after a distinguished career in TV where he nurtured the careers of Ted Koppel and Charles Osgood. He was a kind and gentle man.

We wish his wife Karen and four children solace during this difficult time.

9 March, 2026 3 3 Comments

Brain Coast Taking Shape

March 9, 2026 By Jeff Perlman 3 Comments

For about 9 years, Patrick McNamara, President and CEO of the Palm Health Foundation has been beating the drum for a concept called the “Brain Coast.”
The goal is to brand our community as an important hub for brain health, research and education.

While the concept has been around for a while it’s beginning to gain significant momentum thanks to Pat’s leadership and passion for brain health.
One of my colleagues on the Delray Beach City Commission used to say it takes a monomaniac on a mission to move big ideas forward.
You need passion. You need commitment. My friend Patrick has both—in abundance.

The Carl Angus DeSantis foundation recently invested in the effort because we like to make strategic bets on special people and big ideas.
The Brain Coast is a big idea. The vision is to harness the neuroscience firepower in our area to improve brain health, fuel research and create an ecosystem that will have global significance.

Last week, I attended the inaugural meeting of the Brain Coast Advisory Council to help sketch a path and a plan.
I’m excited and hopeful that our community can make it happen.

Years ago, as a Business Development Board member, I remember hearing BDB CEO Kelly Smallridge talk about branding our area as “Wall Street South.”
At the time, nobody really took the effort seriously. There’s nothing wrong with Palm Beach County of course, but Wall Street South? It seemed like a leap.
But today, Wall Street South is a reality with financial firms and hedge fund titans pouring into Palm Beach County.

We can envision a similar trajectory for the Brain Coast. There is already an impressive array of talent and institutions, devoted to brain health and research dong great work right here in our backyard.

The Max Planck Florida Institute, the Stiles- Nicholson Brain Institute, the Marcus Neuroscience Institute, Florida Atlantic University, UM Health, Cleveland Clinic, Scripps, the Alzheimer’s Drug Discovery Foundation and others have clustered in our community bringing cutting edge science to our county from Jupiter to Boca Raton.
I’ve had an opportunity to be involved with Max Planck, the Alzheimer’s Drug Discovery Foundation and FAU. The effort devoted to brain health is impressive. I recently toured the Stiles- Nicholson Brain Institute and was blown away by the work being done in their labs under the watchful eyes of Dr. Randy Blakely.

At the advisory council meeting last week, I got to listen to neuroscientists from Miami, the UK and elsewhere talk about the potential of the Brain Coast initiative.
Joining us via phone were Susan Magsamen, who wrote a seminal book on neuroarts, an emerging field that is already producing remarkable research on how the arts improves brain health and Dr. Harris Eyre, a researcher who has helped to build a similar ecosystem in Houston.
It’s an exciting time.

With an aging population, the time is ripe to improve brain health so we can offer help and hope to people with dementia, Parkinson’s, substance use disorders, bipolar disorder etc.
It will take a lot of work and coordination for the Brain Coast to reach its considerable potential. But leaving last week’s meeting I am bullish.
The elements are there: talent, capital, passion and commitment.
It takes a village and last week the village gathered to discuss possibilities. Magic happens when great minds collaborate.

5 January, 2026 2 2 Comments

Poetry…

January 5, 2026 By Jeff Perlman 2 Comments

I can feel a love of poetry developing.
Another late life love proving that you can grow, evolve, learn and enjoy new things at any age.

Prior to this recent development, I never really appreciated, understood or enjoyed poetry.
But I’ve always loved song lyrics. I think the best lyrics are poetry.
Springsteen is a poet.

So is Dylan.

I thought John Lennon’s lyrics were magical—”In My Life”, “Norwegian Wood” and “Strawberry Fields” transport me and millions of others to a special place of joy.

Over the weekend, we saw a production of “Both Sides Now” at the Delray Beach Playhouse. It was incredible. Truly special. The show celebrates the words and music of Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen.

When put to music, their poetry elicited tears from the audience. Only art, only poetry, can do that.

Still, conventional poetry? It’s never been my thing.
That’s beginning to change.

In the past year or so I discovered Mark Nepo, rediscovered Robert Frost and found myself seeking out poetry during particularly tough or joyful moments.
Some poems land. Some poems don’t but I find if you make an effort the poem will meet you half way.

My friend Andrea is a poet.

She has been kind enough to send me her work which is touching, funny and very relatable.
She’s involved in a group called “Poets on the Fringe” which has open mic nights at a coffeehouse in Boca. Many of the poets also share their work at Delray’s wonderful Arts Garage.

Inspired by my friend, I’ve written a few poems and one even got published last year in a poetry anthology called “Alone Together.” Seeing my poem “Sit Spot” in a book was a thrill. But I haven’t yet found the courage to stand up in public and share. I will someday—maybe. I’m not quite ready.

Recently, my friend sent me a video of her reciting her poetry at an open mic night. I was struck by the joy on her face. It made my day. I’d like to experience that feeling. So someday. Maybe.

The same friend helped me discover the work of Andrea Gibson, an amazing poet who died tragically at age 49 in 2025.

I loved reading Gibson’s poetry and I highly encourage you to seek it out. Her story is a sad one, but she did leave an amazing body of work.
I found a newsletter Gibson wrote shortly before dying. It was basically a list of things she loved.
Gibson introduced the list with a great piece of advice: “the world is heavy right now, friends. Spend some time every day reminding yourself why the world is worth saving.”
Indeed it is.

Be thankful for the people who introduce you to the poetry of life. Those brave and generous enough to share it too.

29 December, 2025 0 Comments

Looking Ahead: Notes On A New Year

December 29, 2025 By Jeff Perlman Leave a Comment

Wishing you a happy, healthy and safe new year.

Looking Ahead: Notes on a New Year

I’ve been thinking about clocks lately. How arbitrary they are. Midnight on December 31st doesn’t really change anything—the same problems we went to bed with, we wake up with on January 1st.
And yet. There’s something we need about the ritual of turning the page, isn’t there? The permission to believe that what comes next might be different from what came before.

2025 tested that belief. For a lot of us.

The economy found its footing in ways the forecasters predicted and ways they didn’t. Inflation cooled, but not enough for the family at the grocery store doing math in their head before they reach the register. The AI revolution kept accelerating—creating efficiencies, yes, but also a quiet anxiety about what we’re becoming when machines do more of our thinking. We gained tools. I’m not sure we gained wisdom about how to use them.

In public health, we saw breakthroughs that deserve celebration—new HIV prevention options that could transform lives, childhood cancer deaths continuing to fall—and we saw trust in institutions erode in ways that make the next crisis harder to fight. The homicide rate dropped significantly in cities that had seen so much pain. That’s worth noticing. Worth saying out loud. Because good news has a way of getting lost.

What I’m looking forward to in 2026 is mostly small. Local. The places where connection actually lives.

I’m looking forward to communities continuing to figure out how to take care of each other when the systems above them can’t or won’t. Mutual aid networks. Neighbors knowing neighbors. The nonprofit sector—despite the funding whiplash and the burnout epidemic among its workers—keeps showing up. That’s not nothing. That’s everything, actually.

I’m looking forward to the arts doing what they do in uncertain times: telling the truth, holding a mirror up, reminding us we’re not alone in our confusion. Theater, especially. There’s something about sitting in a dark room with strangers, watching people work out their humanity in real time, that still matters. Maybe more now than ever.

And I’m looking forward to watching the next generation of local leaders step into roles that will test them. City councils. School boards. Community nonprofits . That’s where democracy actually lives—not in the fever dreams of cable news, but in zoning meetings and budget hearings and the hard work of showing up.

What am I wary of?

The impulse to retreat. When the world feels overwhelming, there’s a pull toward the private—my family, my bubble, my curated feed. Understandable. But also dangerous. Democracies don’t die from dramatic coups nearly as often as they die from citizens who stop paying attention, stop participating, stop believing their voice matters.

I’m wary of the way technology is fragmenting our sense of shared reality. When we can’t agree on basic facts, we can’t solve problems together. That’s not a partisan observation—it’s a structural one.

And I’m wary of cynicism masquerading as sophistication. The easiest pose in the world is the knowing shrug, the assumption that nothing will ever change. I spent seven years in local government. I know what’s possible when people decide to show up. It’s not perfect. It’s almost never fast. But it’s real, and it matters.

So here’s what I say as we step into 2026: Stay specific. The antidote to despair isn’t optimism—it’s action. And action happens in specifics. One meeting. One relationship. One hard conversation that you’ve been avoiding.

The clock is arbitrary. But we’re not. Happy New Year.
Notes:

Condolences to the family of Dick Hasko who passed December 22.

Mr. Hasko was the long time director of environmental services for the City of Delray Beach.

I had the pleasure of working with him for seven years. I always enjoyed his company and thought Dick did an exemplary job.

Mr. Hasko was widely credited with starting the city’s reclaimed water program and also stepped up in a major way during the many hurricanes we faced from 2004-2006. His intimate knowledge of our aging drainage system allowed him to deftly manage the storms making sure our lift systems worked despite the stress of the storms.

He will be missed.

I was remiss in not mentioning the loss of Betty Diggans a few weeks back.

A legendary Delray businesswoman and downtown advocate, Ms. Diggans was widely known and universally loved. She will be remembered and missed by all who knew and loved her.

22 December, 2025 0 Comments

Front Row Blues

December 22, 2025 By Jeff Perlman Leave a Comment

The opposite of “Bob Uecker” seats. If you know, you know.

A few weeks ago, we went to the Fern Street Theatre in West Palm Beach to see the delightful play “Dear Jack, Dear Louise.”

I’m a fan of the playwright Ken Ludwig so when I saw that the theatre department at Palm Beach Atlantic University was producing one of his works I jumped on it and snagged tickets in the front row.

I thought it was great. The actors, singers and dancers in this amazing production were a few feet from us. I felt like we were in my living room.

My partner wasn’t as thrilled. She will go nameless, but I was advised “please, no more front row seats.”

This puzzled me. I mean we just had a wow experience enhanced—I thought— by our proximity to the performers.

So I asked why and was told that being too close made it impossible to zone out, cough, etc.

Fair enough. That’s honest. And next time I will shoot for second row seats but it got me thinking.

Isn’t it the point to pay attention?

For me, one of the pleasures of live performance is it places me in the moment and I stay there.

When I’m at home watching Netflix, I’m often scrolling on my phone, nodding off, playing with the dogs and generally daydreaming.

But at the theatre I’m in it. I’m listening. I’m watching. I’m off the phone and if the play is doing its job I’m in the story.

I find it a great respite. My phone, full of texts, emails and notifications will be there waiting for me when the show is over.

Attention is what I love about theatre.

At a time when distraction is constant and authenticity feels scarce, the theatre remains one of the last places where we must show up fully, listen closely and connect honestly.

Count me in!

Magic happens when we show up.

Knowing this, I recently gave myself a challenge.

Let me see if I could pay attention at home, in my comfortable chair, with a chihuahua on my lap and a golden retriever staring at me with a toy in her mouth begging for yet another game of tug of war.

I’m proud to say I did it!

I started with the amazing Beatles Anthology documentary on Disney Plus.

I saw it 30 plus years ago and had forgotten how amazing it was. As a lifelong Beatles fan, I was cheating a little bit. I mean it’s not hard for me to immerse myself in the music and the story of my favorite band. The songs remain sublime. The charisma of John, Paul, George and Ringo radiates off the screen and the story itself is remarkable. So much amazing footage to enjoy , so many songs that just make you feel good. Breathtaking…

Now Disney Plus, at least my version, has a lot of ads. And so I was able to indulge the dogs, check my phone and lose four games of tug of war while the ads ran.

Armed with the confidence that I could pay attention to the content if I really put my mind to it, I upped the ante and rented one of my favorite movies while my anonymous entertainment partner was out at a party last week.

I ordered the 1979 movie “Starting Over” starring Burt Reynolds, Jill Clayburgh, Candice Bergen and one of my favorites Charles Durning.

“Starting Over” is a criminally underrated romantic comedy and I’m pleased to report the movie holds up despite being 46 years old.

It’s funny, touching and I’ve been a fan of Burt Reynolds for decades. When I was a cub reporter I did a story about the Burt Reynolds ranch and met his dad Burt Sr. A year later, I interviewed Burt himself when he filmed an episode of B.L. Stryker at the Cathcart House (now part of Sundy Village) on Swinton Avenue. What a thrill! I got to meet and interview Burt and his co-star Maureen Stapleton. He was gracious once he was convinced that I wasn’t working for the National Enquirer which was just up the road in Lantana.

Anyway, I made it through “Starting Over” without any commercial breaks. It helps that I’ve had a crush on Jill Clayburgh since “Silver Streak” and once clipped her picture out of Newsday because I thought she looked like the girl I liked in English class. When I presented the photo to the young woman after class, she looked at me funny. I think she was insulted. Turns out, my Jill look alike grew up to be a prominent prosecutor. Here’s hoping the statute of limitations on poor flirting strategies has passed.

But I digress; the point is paying attention is possible. It’s hard, but still doable.

It just takes a front row seat, or Beatles music or great stars acting in a beautifully written story with music by Marvin Hamlisch.

Now if I can just make it through a Giants game.

Wishing all of you a wonderful Christmas season.
“The earth has grown old with its burden of care, but at Christmas it always is young.”

—Phillips Brooks

15 December, 2025 0 Comments

An Extraordinary Life

December 15, 2025 By Jeff Perlman Leave a Comment

An extraordinary life

On Saturday, I was honored to speak at a celebration of life for Tony Allerton, a civic giant who passed in September.
Tony was uncomfortable with the word legend, but that’s what he was and still is, because his good works will outlive him and all of us.
I was asked by a few folks who couldn’t attend the event at the Drug Abuse Foundation to post my remarks. Here they are.

My heart goes out to Tony’s family and the thousands of friends he made during his extraordinary life. It is a great honor to speak about his impact today.

Tony’s loss leaves a void…we are blessed to have known him, but we miss him terribly. We always will.

This has been a year of loss—the Delray Beach community lost several bright lights in 2025, people whose spirit made this place so special. Tony Allerton was one of those people. He was so special and his light burned bright.

Tony was a “get it done kind of guy” and we need these people. They are the people who move the needle….the people who ensure progress, the people who enrich and save lives.

And so when I think of Tony and how we can cope with the grief we feel, I think there’s an arc we can follow….gratitude, remembrance, testimony, legacy and blessing.

And those are the five things I want to leave you with today…

At his essence, Tony Allerton was a man who exuded optimism, love, empathy, and care. In a world that can often feel hard, cynical, even unkind, Tony stood tall and stood out. He was someone you could always count on to find a way forward, a way toward a better future—a path toward grace.

He lived 97 years, that’s a good run. but for people like Tony… it never feels like enough time. He leaves a void in so many lives, but he also leaves a legacy of hope, compassion, understanding, and belief in others that will ripple through this community for generations.

If that sounds like an exaggeration, then you didn’t know Tony. All of us here, we knew Tony. We know Tony didn’t just touch lives—he transformed them.

One of the great privileges of my life was getting to call Tony a friend for nearly 40 years. And when you’re my age, it’s not every day you get to share lunch with someone 36 years your senior—especially when that someone is a local legend.

Earlier this year, I had the honor of having lunch with Tony at Granger’s. We were deep in conversation—grilled cheese sandwiches, stories of Delray through the decades, old memories—when a gentleman walked across the restaurant, grabbed our check, and thanked Tony for a lifetime of good deeds.

Isn’t that beautiful?

That happened everywhere Tony went.

Gratitude followed him like a shadow.

During that lunch, as we talked about the past—about his arrival in Delray in the 1950s, about the people he’d known and the mayors he’d worked with, I noticed something extraordinary. While we reminisced, Tony didn’t live in the past. He honored it, yes, but his heart beat for the future.

At 97 years old, Tony was still raising money for Crossroads, still searching for ways to help more people recover, still dreaming up what was next.

That’s what legends do.

They wake up with purpose.

They live to serve.

Tony understood recovery because it was his struggle too. And because of that, he became a beacon—a model of what’s possible when someone chooses a life of sobriety, service, and dignity.

The word recovery carries enormous weight in Delray Beach. Over the years, we’ve seen tremendous compassion—and, sadly, we’ve also seen fear, intolerance, even cruelty. While we’ve been called a welcoming community. We’ve also heard people use the ugliest words to describe those who come here to heal.

But through it all, Tony never wavered.

He never stopped caring.

He never gave in to anger.

He never lost hope.

He responded to darkness with light.

He met judgment with kindness.

He met despair with possibility.

That’s rare.

That’s heroic.

That’s Tony.

Some of the very best people I’ve met in my 38 years in Delray came here to recover. Many stayed. Many built successful lives. Many are community leaders today. And Tony played a role in every one of those stories because he believed, fundamentally and ferociously, in people.

His civic résumé alone is breathtaking—Delray Beach Playhouse, Rotary Club, Lake Ida Property Owners Association—but his truest, deepest work was with the Crossroads Club, the nonprofit he led for more than four decades, quietly saving lives every single day.

Thousands of people owe their sobriety, their second chance, their dignity to Tony’s steadfast leadership.

I will never forget the day he walked into my office at City Hall after I was elected to the Commission in 2000. He told me Crossroads needed a new home—somewhere out of the path of downtown’s progress, somewhere with parking, somewhere to grow.

And then he said the line I’ll never forget:

“When we shut the lights downtown, we need to be turning them on in the new building.”

The message was clear:

People are counting on us.

Meetings can’t be missed.

Lives are at stake.

He said it once with that warm smile… and then again, leaning forward, with that Tony intensity that made you sit up straighter.

We got the message.

And that’s exactly what happened. Lights down, lights up. He loved telling that story and I loved hearing it.

Tony’s wisdom, compassion, courage, and clarity guided so many of us—me included.

We are told, as leaders, that people are replaceable. And in many aspects of life, I suppose that’s true. But I’m here to testify:

There will never be another Tony.

You can’t go to the shelf and pluck out another leader with his heart, his humility, his joy, his fight.

But here’s the part that gives me comfort:

People like Tony live on.

His legacy is alive in every person he helped recover.

It’s alive in every life saved, every meeting attended, every family restored.

It’s alive in the thousands of ripples of good he set in motion.

There are people doing remarkable things today because Tony once believed in them. There are children growing up with sober parents because Tony gave someone the courage to walk through the doors of Crossroads. There are men and women who found grace, purpose, and redemption because Tony was there to show them the way.

Those ripples endure.

They always will.

I’m grateful to my friend Steve English for making sure I had one last lunch with Tony. It was a gift. A blessing. A moment I will hold close for the rest of my life.

To Tony’s family—your loss is profound, and my heart is with you. But what an extraordinary blessing it is to have loved and been loved by such a man.

And to all of us who were touched by his life:

Tony was a bright light.

And that bright light will continue to burn bright.

It lives in us now.

It is our turn to carry it forward.

Thank you.

24 November, 2025 4 4 Comments

Thankful…

November 24, 2025 By Jeff Perlman 4 Comments

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.

I know I’m not alone in that regard. Many people love Thanksgiving.

It’s not the turkey (which I can take or leave) or the stuffing (which is always delicious) it’s the sentiment; being thankful is the key to happiness.

Truth be told, this has been a tough year.

If you know, you know. No need to list the many horrors playing out across our world.

We owe the holiday to President Lincoln, who in 1863, declared a day of thanks at a difficult time in American history. I find President Lincoln to be remarkable. He can still teach us lessons if we choose to listen. But while Lincoln was a singular figure in American history, the story of Thanksgiving cannot be faithfully told without talking about Sarah Josepha Hale, who spent decades campaigning to make Thanksgiving a national holiday; proof that every accomplishment often has multiple authors. That Lincoln proclaimed a day of thanks in the midst of a Civil War is a lesson that the best leaders seek to unite us, not divide us.

Here at home, we’ve lost many amazing civic leaders in 2025. Their accomplishments were awe inspiring, but I knew them as friends as well. And I miss them. I really miss them.

Still, while the losses we suffer are painful, I find myself thankful for having had these people in my life.

I spoke with a friend who recently lost a parent, and we talked about the void that loss creates in your life. Life most certainly moves on, but for those of us who lose loved ones, which is all of us at some point, the world is never quite the same.

We heal, but never fully.

For me, each loss reminds me to appreciate those we love who are still here.

I’m thankful that my father is still front and center in my family’s life.

He’s been given the gift of longevity and good health. We are thankful for that and for his life partner who looks out for him and has provided my dad with happiness and companionship.

I’m thankful for the community servants I get to work with as we build a philanthropy that will be here in perpetuity. What a unique and wonderful opportunity. We are reminded that a lot of good can come from hard work, freedom and generosity.

I’m thankful for the meaningful conversations I get to have with great minds.

Recently, I had lunch with Kevin Ross, president of Lynn University. I’ve admired Kevin for years. He’s an extraordinary leader. And he’s been tested in ways that nobody could have foreseen.

But with each crisis, I’ve seen him and his outstanding team rise to the occasion and find innovative ways to not only survive but thrive.

Lynn University is a special place. I’m thankful to be a trustee and see the university become a national pacesetter in higher education.

This year, I’ve met several times with the dedicated team at Stet News who are finding a way to cover local news in an environment where the business model for journalism has been completely upended. That’s a euphemism for destroyed.

I’m thankful for the good people at Stet. There’s so much happening in Palm Beach County. We need reliable coverage to understand all the moving parts. A free press is essential to Democracy (big D) and to a community. We need to find a way to support news gathering.

Speaking of great journalists, my friend Michael Williams, retired WPTV News Anchor and veteran political reporter Brian Crowley have created a terrific podcast “Top of Mind Florida “which gives me a half hour plus of learning every week. I’m grateful for their intelligence and perspective. I urge you to check it out.

Speaking of local podcasts do not miss “Culture Under Fire” featuring the President of the Arts Garage Marjorie Waldo and “Create for No Reason” starring the multi-talented Kate Volman. It is important for voices in the community to defend and celebrate the arts and the artists in our world. Art is what clarifies and helps us see. Art unites and builds community. We need culture now more than ever.

This year, I had the privilege of sharing notes with great philanthropists near and far. I get to pick their brains and listen to their “theories of change” which inform my work and understanding of the world.

For me, there’s nothing more exciting than to meet with people like Patrick McNamara and Carrie Browne of Palm Health Foundation, Raphael Clemente of Palm Beach Venture Philanthropy and funders networks in Broward and Palm Beach counties. These people are hard at work thinking about the future of our community. Thankfully, we are in good hands.

This year, as many of you know, I indulged a new passion: playwriting.

I’ve turned my inability to sleep well into a productive creative process. So, at 3 am, instead of staring at the ceiling I write stories.

I don’t recommend my hours, but I do recommend finding a creative outlet. I’m grateful for the creative community I’ve found and the local institutions who gave me a shot. Here’s looking at you Arts Garage and Delray Playhouse.

Please support live performance, it’s one of the last activities we do together; in community, with each other, without a screen.

It’s worth saving.

So much of our daily experience is worth savoring.

Florida is a vexing place in many ways. But when I step outside and feel a cool November breeze, I’m reminded that we are fortunate to live here. Yes, the tropics are menacing, the insurance costs high and the humidity can be stifling but…the winters are sublime. Be thankful.

Have a wonderful, safe and happy Thanksgiving. Thanks for reading.

13 October, 2025 9 9 Comments

Cafes, Community, Connections & Gratitude

October 13, 2025 By Jeff Perlman 9 Comments

Let me begin where I always like to start—with gratitude.

I’ve experienced a swirl of emotions this past weekend, but the feeling that rises to the top is thankfulness.

The Arts Garage produced two performances of my first full-length play, The Café on Main, on Saturday. Two nearly full houses turned up to see a story I’ve been working on, in various forms, for two years. Friends, family, and fellow theatre lovers came out and seemed to have a good time. I’m so thankful. And, truthfully, a little relieved too.

Putting a show “on its feet” is hard work.

Really hard work.

Luckily, a team of dedicated people came together and gave up their nights and weekends for weeks on end to learn lines, design the production, and tend to the seemingly endless details that make a show happen—a show that runs, and then disappears. It’s a labor of love, because nobody’s getting rich doing this. Still, there are rewards.

Those that make plays come to life believe. They believe in the magic and importance of theatre. They believe that in a noisy world, coming together to tell stories that make us laugh, cry, and think still matters.

Theatre artists exist to create worlds. They build characters and places. They hope that their words, songs, and performances stir something in us. It’s a tremendous challenge. Hours of thought and preparation go into a show, and then the lights go down and you hope to win over the audience. It’s a high-wire act—thrilling and more than a little scary.

It’s also intoxicating.

I sat in the audience for two performances hanging on every word and aware of everyone around me. I was rooting for the actors on stage who have become friends. I was thinking about the director and the tech crew and I was fixated on the audience. Would they like it? Would the play land? Would it move them, make them think and make them feel?

At intermission during our evening performance, my friend Diane Franco turned around and told me: “Jeff, you can hear a pin drop.” She was genuinely moved and those six words put me at ease.

As a playwright, hearing your words brought to life by talented actors and a gifted director, stage manager, and tech crew is a feeling that’s hard to describe. Writing can be lonely—you sit staring at a blank screen, trying to put words together that make sense, and you rarely know if they reach anyone. But theatre is different. You start off alone, and if you’re lucky, a theatre takes a chance on your work and suddenly your words are alive in front of an audience.

A few months ago, I traveled to Columbus, Ohio, to see my short play Press Conference performed as part of the “Brave Stories” festival. There were over 500 entries from around the world and only four were selected. I still don’t know how mine made the cut, but I do know how rare and special it is for a play to make it to the stage. Most never do—they sit forgotten in a drawer or on a hard drive.

In today’s world, live theatre faces real challenges. The stages that remain often lean on the classics—West Side Story, The Producers, Chicago—leaving little space for new voices. That’s why I’m so grateful to The Arts Garage for giving new work a chance.

President Marjorie Waldo is a brave visionary who has built something remarkable in a tough climate for the arts. Artistic Director Michelle Diaz, who worked so closely with me on The Café on Main, is a delight—smart, insightful, and caring, with a wonderful touch and instincts that are always spot-on.

I’m also deeply indebted to Director Marianne Regan, who first set me on this late-in-life path through the Playwrights Festival she and Dan Bellante produce at the Delray Beach Playhouse. The Café on Main began as a short piece there.

For this production, we reunited the original cast, minus Diane Tyminski—who couldn’t join us because she landed the lead in Tenderly at the Delray Playhouse. (I’ll be there next week to cheer her on—she’s incredible.)

In her place, we welcomed Raven Adams, who absolutely knocked it out of the park. The rest of the cast—Peter Salzer, Shelly Pittleman, Nancy Ferraro, and Sergio Fuenzalida—blew me away with their talent, dedication, and heart. They rehearsed four hours a day, met after hours on Zoom, and even stayed late to run lines. During rehearsals, I’d see them tucked in a corner of the black box, urging each other to dig deeper. All in service of the story. It was awe-inspiring.

There’s so much local talent in our area. It’s humbling to watch these actors bring characters to life while balancing jobs, families, and children. That’s real dedication to craft.

Regan–as she is affectionately known– led with calm and creativity, making the process joyful and supportive. Her right hand, Michelle Popken, and her husband Dave provided invaluable technical and script support. Elena and Bruce Cherlow—who had walk-on parts—helped everything run smoothly and were there for their friends every step of the way.

What a wonderful experience.

My first full-length play. In my town. About my hometown. In a venue I adore.

I’m grateful.

And I’m also inspired—to keep writing, to keep learning, and to keep telling stories that reflect the world around us. The Café on Main reminded me that art connects us in ways nothing else can. I can’t wait to see where this journey leads next.

6 October, 2025 0 Comments

Catalysts Leave & Weave A Legacy

October 6, 2025 By Jeff Perlman Leave a Comment

The Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation’s 2025 Catalyst Award Winners Chuck Halberg and Maria Hernandez (third from left) with Foundation staff Maritza Benitez and Angela Giachetti.

Every year, the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation honors two special people in our community with a “Catalyst Award.”

Along with a cash prize that the honorees can direct to their favorite nonprofits, we host a luncheon in their honor and add a few other surprises.

The surprise part is important.

We like to surprise and delight honorees, something our founder Carl DeSantis enjoyed doing. In fact, he made joy (and generosity) a way of life.

Carl had a saying: “good begets good”. And he ran his businesses using that simple but profound credo.

He believed, that if you treated people well, the benefits would come back to you ten-fold.

We created the Catalyst Award three years ago to celebrate Mr. DeSantis’ spirit. We wanted to fashion an award that celebrated the spirit of a very special man who believed passionately in the power of one person to spark meaningful and lasting change.

Mr. DeSantis was not only a world-class entrepreneur—who revolutionized the beverage and nutrition industries– he was a true catalyst– someone who led boldly, inspired his team, lifted others, and left communities and industries stronger than he found them. Carl was really something… he continues to inspire us today.

The Catalyst Award is our way of extending his legacy. Each year, we shine a light on remarkable individuals whose vision, energy, and commitment remind us of what is possible when passion meets purpose. You can’t apply for this award; it is something we present when we see special people in our community that embody the heart and spirit of Mr. DeSantis.

Mr. D, as we called him, passed two years ago, but his spirit lives on in our work. And when we comb the landscape looking for catalysts, we ask ourselves, is this someone Carl would embrace?

This year, we found two people that Carl would have adored.

Chuck Halberg, the consummate Delray volunteer and Maria Hernandez, a Vice President of the United Way of Broward County, fit our vision of a catalyst to a tee.

They also fit in nicely with past winners: Delray’s Ted Hoskinson, founder of Roots and Wings which helps young readers thrive, Danny Pacheco of the Delray Beach Police Department who started the innovative youth soccer program Delray Kicks , Pastor Bill Mitchell, founder of CityLead which gathers the community for lessons in life and business and Julia Kadel co-founder of the Miracle League of Palm Beach County have been our previous winners. We’re proud of them all.

This year, we selected two very special people who create what we call “ripples” of goodness in the community. Their good deeds are so widespread that it becomes hard to fully quantify their extensive reach.

Chuck Halberg—whose generosity of time, talent, and heart has touched countless lives for decades, is the newly named president of Delray Citizens for Delray Police. In his day job, he runs Stuart & Shelby, a busy home building company.

Chuck has become a model for what it means to give back fully, with humility and with joy. I would list his civic resume, but its almost endless, let’s just say he has given his all to dozens of nonprofits with a special emphasis on causes that support law enforcement and children in need.

Maria Hernandez—is a true dynamo who is a leader at the United Way of Broward County. Maria’s drive, creativity, and relentless focus on people is legendary. Her work, her heart, strengthens families and is building a stronger community. Everywhere we have gone in the past year in Broward, Maria’s name has come up as someone to know—she’s a true catalyst with a tremendous reach. Like our founder Mr. DeSantis, Maria makes things happen. She’s a go-to person. She shakes it up and we are proud to honor that spirit.

Thomas Watson, the United Way CFO, called us up after the event to sing his colleagues praises.

“Maria’s work is known nationally,” he said. “She’s amazing.”

Together, Chuck and Maria embody the very best of what this award stands for: the belief that one person can ignite a wave of change that benefits all.

So, when you run into them, and you are bound to do so, because they are everywhere, please take a moment to say thanks. Be inspired by them as well. Because in celebrating their work, we remind ourselves that each of us has the power to be a catalyst; to leave a legacy of love, kindness, grace and generosity.