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.

2 November, 2026 0 Comments

The House That Memory Built

November 2, 2026 By Leave a Comment

At Delray Beach’s Spady Museum, a new program reminds us that while memories may fade, the human need for connection never does.

 

There are certain things we never forget.

 

The smell of Sunday dinner.

 

The sound of a favorite song.

 

The feeling of getting dressed for school, the excitement of a family gathering, the voices of people we loved who are no longer with us.

 

These are more than memories.

 

They are the threads of our lives. They connect us to our families, our neighborhoods, our culture and ultimately to ourselves.

 

And sometimes, when age or illness begins to steal those memories, the right song, the right photograph or the familiar smell of a treasured family recipe can bring them rushing back.

 

Even if only for a moment.

 

And sometimes a moment is everything.

 

That’s the beautiful idea behind a new program at Delray Beach’s Spady Cultural Heritage Museum called “The House That Memory Built: The Memories We Weave.”

 

Beginning in November, the museum will welcome people experiencing Alzheimer’s disease and cognitive decline, along with their caregivers, into the historic Williams Cottage for a yearlong series of experiences designed to stimulate memories, encourage connection and celebrate lives well lived.

 

It’s a wonderful concept.

 

And it’s happening right here in our community.

 

The program draws upon the rich traditions of Black culture and the Black experience, using familiar activities to help participants reconnect with their personal histories.

 

Imagine preparing a recipe handed down through generations.

 

Or hearing a song that takes you back to a school dance, a family celebration or a Sunday afternoon when the world seemed full of possibilities.

 

Imagine writing a letter to someone you love, remembering the rituals of getting ready for church or sharing a childhood story with someone who understands exactly what you’re talking about.

 

These activities may seem simple.

 

But their meaning can be profound.

 

Because Alzheimer’s doesn’t just affect memory. It can disrupt identity, relationships and the connections that give our lives meaning. You end up losing someone—twice.

 

And it doesn’t just affect the person living with the disease.

 

It affects spouses, children, grandchildren, friends and caregivers who sometimes find themselves mourning pieces of someone who is still very much here.

 

That’s why I find this program so compelling.

 

It recognizes something that can get lost when we talk about Alzheimer’s in purely medical terms.

 

Behind every diagnosis is a person. Behind every person is a story. And every story deserves to be honored.

 

At the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation, we are deeply interested in brain health, Alzheimer’s research and the extraordinary work being done to understand, treat and ultimately defeat this devastating disease. That’s why we are supporting this program and other efforts through our support of Max Planck Florida Institute, Florida Atlantic University, the Mayo Clinic, the Brain Coast and the Alzheimer’s Drug Discovery Foundation.

 

We believe in science. We believe in innovation. And we believe that breakthroughs in neuroscience have the potential to change millions of lives.

 

But we also believe that caring for people means meeting them where they are today.

 

Research offers hope for tomorrow. Programs like The House That Memory Built offer connection, dignity and moments of joy today.

 

We need both.

 

And there’s something particularly meaningful about this program taking place at the Spady Museum.

 

For years, the museum has served as a keeper of stories, preserving the history, culture and contributions of Delray Beach’s Black community.

 

Now, in a lovely extension of that mission, it is using history to help people reconnect with their own.

 

As a result, the Williams Cottage becomes more than a historic structure.

 

It becomes a place where the past is welcomed into the present.

 

Where memories are invited to return.

 

Where caregivers can share an experience with their loved ones that isn’t defined solely by illness.

 

And where the stories of a generation are treated as treasures worth preserving.

 

The program was designed by Deborah Germain, MPH, CDP; Claudia Moore, MPH; and the team at The Mosaic Thread Practice. It combines cultural experiences, historical storytelling and therapeutic approaches in a setting designed to encourage engagement and belonging.

 

In addition to twice-monthly activity sessions, the free, 12-month program will feature a speaker series and six months of legacy quilt-making sessions.

 

I particularly love the quilt idea.

 

Because isn’t that what life is?

 

A collection of experiences, relationships, triumphs, disappointments, joys and sorrows stitched together over time.

 

Every square tells a story.

 

Every thread connects us to something or someone.

 

And together, those pieces become something beautiful.

 

The Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation is proud to invest in this pilot alongside our friends at the Quantum Foundation, the Palm Beach County Cultural Council and a private donor.

 

We hope it becomes a model for what is possible when cultural institutions, health professionals, philanthropists and communities work together.

 

We also hope it reminds us that innovation doesn’t always require expensive technology or a laboratory.

 

Sometimes innovation is recognizing the extraordinary power of something we’ve had all along.

 

A song.

 

A story.

 

A familiar place.

 

A human connection.

 

We don’t know how many memories this program will unlock. We don’t know how many smiles it will inspire or how many families will experience a precious moment of recognition.

 

But we know those moments matter.

 

And we know that a community is measured, in part, by how it cares for people when they are most vulnerable.

 

In Delray Beach, we have a place dedicated to preserving memory.

 

Now that place will help people celebrate their own.

 

There’s something beautiful about that.

 

Because even when memories begin to fade, the love and meaning woven into a life remain worthy of our care.

 

And that’s a story worth remembering.

 

About the program

 

The House That Memory Built: The Memories We Weave begins in November 2026 and runs for 12 months at the Williams Cottage at the Spady Cultural Heritage Museum, 170 NW 5th Avenue, Delray Beach.

 

The program is free and includes:

 

Activity sessions: Twice monthly for 12 months.

 

Speaker Series: Once or twice monthly for 12 months.

 

Legacy quilt-making sessions: Once monthly for six months.

 

Participants and caregivers may register for the sessions and activities that best fit their schedules.

 

For more information, contact The Mosaic Thread Practice at admin@themosaicthreadpractice.com or (561) 210-4518.

 

 

Jose was special

The Delray community is mourning the loss of storied architect Jose Aguila.

Jose was a terrific guy, a talented architect and a devoted community servant who gave his time to local advisory boards and served as an elected official in Boynton Beach. Below is the warm note shared by his firm with friends and clients.

 

“With heavy hearts, we share the sad news of José N. Aguila’s passing. After retiring in 2023, José looked forward to traveling the world with his beloved Sue. A gifted architect, he first joined the firm in the late 1970s. In 1988, he returned to school and earned his architecture degree from Florida A&M University. He then came home to South Florida, working for the City of Delray and a local contractor before returning to the Currie organization in 1993. He earned his architectural license in 1995.

 

A no-nonsense architect, José kept a firm hand on the firm’s rising professionals, consultants, and contractors. He was also an exceptional project manager who earned the respect and appreciation of his clients. Elevated to principal in 2000, he was a devoted mentor, colleague, and dear friend to his Currie Sowards Aguila family.

 

José will remain forever in our hearts as we celebrate his life and cherish the decades we shared with him. José expressed in his own words, the 2023 retirement celebration was everything he could have imagined and he was there. He was deeply honored by the outpouring of love and treasured the time and stories shared with everyone who attended.”

 

Rest in peace, José

 

26 October, 2026 0 Comments

Field Of Dreams

October 26, 2026 By Leave a Comment

Baseball is about going home, and how hard it is to get there and how driven is our need. It tells us how good home is. Its wisdom says you can go home again but that you cannot stay. The journey must always start once more…” A. Bartlett Giamatti, former baseball commissioner. 

I’ve loved baseball since I was a little boy. 
My older friends will argue with my next sentence because they will tell you that the 40s and 50s was a golden age for baseball, and it was, but 70s baseball was the best. 
We can start with the cool uniforms, the bushy mustaches, the mutton chop sideburns and the great teams of the era: Charlie Finley’s A’s, the Big Red Machine, Earl Weaver’s Orioles and of course the Yankees and the Bronx Zoo. 
Even the Mets made the World Series in 1973 before beginning a painful slide that lasted into the 80s. 
Then there were the personalities: Mr. October Reggie Jackson, Tom “Terrific” Seaver, Thurman Munson, Johnny Bench, Vida Blue, Catfish Hunter, “Hammering” Hank Aaron, Willie “Pops” Stargell and the list goes on and on.
To be a kid in that era was to collect baseball cards, read sports magazines, pour over box scores in the newspaper, beg your dad to take you to Shea or Yankee Stadium, play Little League and come home and practice on a pitch back. I’d hit tennis balls with a wooden bat and have my little sister chase after them until she wised up and said no more.  
It was a golden era. 
I met my oldest friend David when I was six and he was five. He drove his bike to my block and we traded baseball cards. We started a conversation that continues to this day. 
Dave lives in the Milwaukee area these days. We see each other every other week via a Zoom call he has hosted since Covid with a gaggle of old friends who live everywhere these days. Those calls have become a highlight of my life. An hour or so of connection with guys who share the same history. Honestly, there is nothing like it. 
We knew each others parents, siblings, girlfriends, teachers and childhood homes. They were the wonder years but honestly we rarely talk about them anymore. There’s a lot of current stuff to sift through together. And that’s the operative word. We are in it for life. We know what we share is rare, precious and valuable. 
Life unfolds much like a baseball game. Inning by inning. Pitch by pitch. We circle the bases and we search for home. When I see these guys faces on my computer screen I feel like I’m on a team. We found each other early in the game and have remained in each other’s lives through the seasons. In a fast-paced and often crazy world, that’s a significant comfort.
Anyway, my Milwaukee friend Dave has been closely following the Brewers and they made the World Series for the first time since our senior year of high school 44 years ago. 
He’s happy. So am I: for him, although I wish our Yankees didn’t get booted by the Rays. 
Regardless, the Brewers are good for baseball. So are the Rays. 
Two small market teams at the top of the sport. 
Their fans are savoring the moment.
I’m not one for advanced metrics, launch angles and exit velocity–terms that accompany today’s game.  But baseball itself endures. 
I’m not sure it’s the national pastime anymore. That feels like it’s football these days but baseball remains a great game. 
Here’s to a great series. Here’s to upstart teams, good friends, baseball cards and the thrill of the game. 
Remembering Anne

Delray Beach lost a special person recently.

Anne Bright was a friend to many, a dedicated community servant and a wonderful person.

I last saw her a few months back at a friend’s birthday party that she and her husband Reeve graciously hosted at their home.

Anne wasn’t feeling great that night, but we managed to see her briefly and she was in good spirits. Despite her many health challenges she always thought of others. She would contact me frequently via social media to ask about my dogs and plays. Just a lovely person who touched so many. Below is her obituary. I urge you to read it to get a sense of her.

Anne S. Bright, The Queen of Delray, entered her heavenly retirement on October 11, 2026. She was born in Bryn Mawr, PA, on October 7, 1943, the only child of Henry Stokes and Isabell Paul Stokes. She spent her youth in Saint-Jovite, Quebec; Northeast Harbor, ME, New York City, NY; and with her maternal grandparents at Box Hill, Radnor, PA. She graduated from The Chapin School in Manhattan.

 

She married Karl Negley Mellon in 1962 and divorced him in 1969. That marriage produced two children: Matthew T. Mellon and Henry C.S. Mellon and six grandchildren (Araminta, Force, Olympia, Parsons, Gwendolyn, and Stokes). In 1975 she married J. Reeve Bright in Northeast Harbor, ME, a union that produced one child, Nicholas R. Bright, and two grandchildren (Drexel and Mills).

 

Anne and Reeve built a life in Delray Beach, FL summering in Maine. Anne founded and ran The Frame Factory in Boca Raton while being involved civically in Delray Beach. She was a long-time member of Delray Rotary Club and spent over 35 years advancing the cause of Achievement Centers for Children and Families in Delray Beach. Her physical abilities became impaired by lupus, which led to her raising enormous amounts of money for Lupus Foundation of America, as Reeve served as National Chairman of that organization. The foundation awarded her the Fleur de Lis Award for volunteer fundraising.

 

Anne was a devoted mother, grandmother, wife and friend whose warmth and generosity touched everyone who met her.

Instead of flowers, the family asks that you donate in her name to Lupus Foundation of America or Achievement Centers for Children and Families, Delray Beach.

5 October, 2026 2 2 Comments

The Lawn on Swinton

October 5, 2026 By 2 Comments

It was 2001 and I was on vacation.

I forget where.

Delray Beach had just won the All-America City Award in Atlanta — our second — and I left  Georgia and took my family somewhere to get lost for a few days.

But we learned that there was going to be a celebration on the grounds of an old house on Swinton Avenue that had a big lawn.

We looked at each other and started packing.

That’s the part I keep coming back to; not the award. The packing. Nobody had to convince anybody. My family cut a vacation short because we didn’t want to read about the celebration in the paper or hear about it later. We wanted to be there. With our neighbors. We couldn’t imagine being anywhere other than home with our friends.

I’ve been thinking about why we felt that way.

The lawn that night was full. People who had made the trip to Atlanta and people who hadn’t. People who had worked on the application for months and people who couldn’t have told you what an All-America City was the week before. Kids everywhere. Nobody checking a program because there wasn’t one.

What I remember most is how long people stayed. They stood on the grass in the warm evening air and talked, and the talking was the thing. We had gone to Atlanta to tell a panel of judges what kind of city we were. But standing on that lawn, we weren’t telling anyone anything. We were just…being it.

Around that same time, in the early 2000s, the city commission started hosting community dinners at the Old School Square fieldhouse.

The formula was almost embarrassingly simple. Pick two neighborhoods — different parts of town, different histories, people who would likely never otherwise sit at the same table. Invite them to dinner. Potluck. No agenda.

That last part mattered more than anything else.

No agenda.

Not a listening session, not a charrette, not a strategic planning exercise dressed up with casseroles. Just dinner and fellowship, which is an old-fashioned word I’ve never found a replacement for.

I was in government then, and government is agenda. Government is action items and public comment and three-minute limits at the podium. I believed in all of it — still do, I think, who knows. It no longer matters as much to me. Other things have come to fill my life.

But I watched something happen at those dinners that never happened in a commission chamber.

People from neighborhoods that had every reason to see each other as strangers — or worse, as competitors for the same scarce attention — passed dishes down long tables and discovered they wanted the same things. Safe streets. Good schools. Somewhere for their kids to be kids. A place where someone would notice if they went missing from their routines.

Safe places for our families. A community where everyone has a chance to thrive. That’s it. That’s the whole list.

Nobody announced this discovery. There was no facilitator with a marker asking us to identify shared values. It just surfaced, the way it does when people eat together, in the small talk that turns out not to be small at all.

I read a piece recently about a backyard concert in another town — three hundred neighbors, folding chairs across three yards, a host whose roots ran generations deep. The writer marveled at how easy it was. Nobody had to sign up or agree on anything. There was simply a reason to gather, and a place to do it.

I felt every word of that story. And it sent me back to that lawn, and that fieldhouse.

Here’s what I can’t stop thinking about. In my years in public life, we spent real money and real effort trying to build community — programs, initiatives, plans with tabs and appendices. Some of it worked. But the moments I’d point to now, the ones that changed how this city felt about itself, cost almost nothing. A lawn. A fieldhouse. Covered dishes. A reason to gather and a place to do it.

Did we build those moments, or did we just get out of their way?

I honestly don’t know. Maybe the best thing an institution can do is set the table — literally set the table — and then stop talking. Maybe trust isn’t something you can program. Maybe it’s something that happens to people while they’re passing the green beans.

What I know is this: at the end of those dinners, the fieldhouse emptied slowly. People lingered by the door the way they’d lingered on the lawn on Swinton, finishing conversations that didn’t want to end. Somebody’s dish went home lighter than it came. Somebody who arrived a stranger left with a phone number on a napkin.

Twenty-some years later, I couldn’t tell you a single agenda item from that era.

But I can still see the lawn. And I miss it.

Note:

I find I’ve been thinking a lot about Dolly Parton since she passed. We lost a true legend August 25. Dolly Parton was 80 and she packed a lot into those years.

 By the time Dolly Parton died on Tuesday, August 25, at the age of 80, her Imagination Library had delivered more than 332 million books to more than 3 million children.

“When I was growing up in the hills of East Tennessee, I knew my dreams would come true,” the Imagination Library website reads. “I know there are children in your community with their own dreams. They dream of becoming a doctor or an inventor or a minister. Who knows, maybe there is a little girl whose dream is to be a writer and singer. The seeds of these dreams are often found in books and the seeds you help plant in your community can grow across the world.”

When children age out of Dolly’s Imagination Library, they receive a final letter from her hoping they would “have a great time” in school and urging them to keep reading.

The letter ends: “You and all of your friends are very special. There is no limit to what you can do or how far you can go. Just remember the lessons my family taught me—dream big dreams; learn everything you can learn; and care for all those who care for you. You do all of these things and you can be anyone you want to be.

“You are terrific, and remember…

“I Will Always Love You.”

We need more Dolly Parton’s in our world.

21 September, 2026 0 Comments

A Two-Fer: Housing Thoughts & Old School Square

September 21, 2026 By Leave a Comment

These sure are interesting times.

Recently, I  celebrated my 39th year as a resident of the Sunshine State.

Back in 1987, I was a kid fresh out of college seeking solace from the harsh winters I experienced going to school on Lake Ontario where it would sometimes snow in May.

Florida in the 1980s was affordable paradise.

I rented a two-bedroom apartment with a “Florida” room and tons of amenities for $600 a month. In 1988, when I bought my first home in Delray Beach, we spent $69,000 for a new townhouse off Barwick Road. That price included all the upgrades that were offered. Insurance was nominal (this was pre–Hurricane Andrew) auto insurance was less than half what I paid in New York, and there was no income tax.

Palm trees, warm breezes, year-round tennis and my childhood best friend living across the line in Broward made me a happy camper. I quickly fell in love with my new home.

After all, what’s not to like? (Heat, Humidity, Hurricanes—the three H’s –didn’t factor into my thinking at the time, Happy hour, Home fries at Poppie’s and Har-tru tennis courts did.)

But over time that affordability has eroded.

We’re not alone, but the situation in Boca-Delray is particularly acute especially when it comes to the cost of housing.

Insurance is no longer cheap. Auto insurance is very high, and the overall cost of living makes this a place where it’s hard to make ends meet unless you’ve been here a long time and already have a home, make a lot of money, have a lot of money, win the lottery or live on a friend’s couch.

Personally, I don’t know too many people who could afford to buy the house they are living in if they had it to buy it today.

Yet the notion of homeownership is a key to the American Dream.

As America marks its 250th birthday, perhaps it’s a good time to assess the state of the American Dream.

I think a corollary to homeownership is the power that Americans possess to create communities. Typically, that was made possible by the ability of Americans to tax themselves to fund local infrastructure and services.

According to a recent Wharton business school article: “After World War II, states legislated for, and localities implemented, master land-use plans that created an economic boom without rising home prices. We became a nation of homeowners as the homeownership rate went from less than half to two-thirds of American households. Although lagging other groups, a majority of minority households also became homeowners by the end of the 20th century. Nearly 90% of Americans achieved the American Dream of homeownership at some point in their lifetimes.”

That system allowed young people to become independent at a young age, typically starting their own households in their 20s or early 30s at the latest. Today, the median first-time home buyer is in their 40s, middle aged before they get their starter home.

Wow.

Just absorb that for a moment.

Since 2022, housing costs for new homes have more than doubled. In my neighborhood, they’ve quadrupled since we moved there in 2003.

Mortgage rates have gone from 3 percent to around 7 percent and rents have skyrocketed. Miami just passed New York City to become the most expensive big city to live in.

All this adds up to a very tough climate for people to live the dream. (Inflation, high health insurance rates, spiking food prices and expensive gas and electricity doesn’t help).

Economists are calling these factors the “Great Postponement” meaning young people are delaying key life decisions like marriage, having kids etc., because they just can’t get traction.

It’s interesting that housing and taxation are twin topics of concern these days, because they are linked.

Florida voters will decide in November whether to severely cut back on property taxes by increasing exemptions.

As a former elected official who worked on 7 budgets (which by law must be balanced, unlike our friends in Congress) I struggle with how this is all going to shake out especially since more than half of city budgets are devoted to police and fire services.

Yet, I understand the public’s need for relief. And I also understand that tax revenues, tied to rising property values, have made city budgets very large indeed.

Add a general lack of trust in government at all levels and it becomes a toxic stew.

Still, I think we should be careful what we wish for; and let’s be clear–this isn’t a tax cut, it’s a tax shift and we may end up paying more in assessments and fees because the need for public safety, roads, water, drainage etc. isn’t going away.

I noticed that the City of Delray Beach went on social media recently to thank taxpayers for the services they fund.

Cities are not supposed to advocate for ballot issues—but they are allowed to educate. I thought the post was interesting—but a strategic misstep. It just didn’t sound right, and it was met with a slew of comments complaining about spending and poor service delivery. Fair or unfair, it felt like the post invited a barrage of negativity.

Yes, government can always tighten its belt. Yes, services can always be improved. Government should be accountable for every dollar spent.

But that’s a different conversation from what I’m seeing. Granted, I’m not sure social media is a good gauge of public sentiment but there does seem to be a belief that either these services will magically pay for themselves or that we don’t need them.

On TV news, I keep seeing people saying that since their kids are no longer in school, they don’t want to pay school taxes. Well, don’t we have an obligation to invest in our future? Aren’t these kids our kids too? Don’t we owe them an education? Didn’t we help pay for your kids’ schooling?

The most disturbing thing I’m seeing is the lack of regard for home rule from our friends in Tallahassee. Since when does some legislator hundreds of miles from Delray or Boca know better than us how to run our cities?

Now if you don’t like the way your city is being led, run for office or vote for someone else who might do a better job but to cede control over your budget, land use decisions and other things seems to be fundamentally anti-Democratic.

One size usually doesn’t fit all. What works for West Palm Beach may not fly in Boca Raton. Cities and their stakeholders should have the right to create their own vision for what they want to be.

Regardless, we do have to tackle affordability, especially housing.

One out of three young adults ages 24-35 are living with their parents, according to the latest stats I could find — a return to the historic high point during the pandemic and earlier during the Great Depression.

The median age for a first marriage has risen by nearly a decade since the 1970s, and the average age for a first birth continues to increase. Just a generation ago, becoming a first-time parent after age 30 was viewed as unusual.  Today, it’s common.

So, what can we do?

Tools include zoning reforms, allowing accessory dwelling units, allowing higher density development (never easy politically) and hopefully lowering interest rates if economic conditions allow for it. Taming inflation would also help, also easier said than done despite the promises of politicians on both sides of the divide.

In the next few weeks, I will be speaking with some affordable housing experts about ways our philanthropy might get involved. I’ll let you know what I learned.

Meanwhile, buckle up. The next few months and years promise to be very interesting.

We need a national commitment to make sure our children can achieve the American Dream. A hand up, not a handout as they say.

Editor’s Note: And now for something different. I’ve rarely turned over this space to another voice, but when my friend former Commissioner Jim Chard asked if he could talk to you about the future of Old School Square, I said yes. On Tuesday, September 22, the Commission will be talking about the future of Old School Square. So this is certainly timely. Jim, take it away.

 

Restoring the Cultural Vibrancy Delray Once Had

By Jim Chard

Introduction

This study takes a deep dive into what has happened to Old School Square. It examines why the campus was shut down, what the citizens lost, and how we might possibly return to a vibrant cultural center at the heart of Delray.

  1. Once upon a time many years ago, Delray was a cultural center

The Crest Theater went dark on August 10th, 5 years ago. Not only the theater but many other cultural activities including an art school and concerts were terminated.   In a surprise move, the City Commission voted to terminate the contract with the Old School Square Center for the Arts without cause. And without a replacement strategy.

It is long past the time for the contentious groups to put down their pitch forks and implement a plan to return Delray to its position as a beacon of culture in South Florida.

This study will explore what we have lost as a community, reveal the roadblocks to returning to its former glory, and put forth a modest proposal to return the Old School Square campus in the center of Delray to its former glory.

Starting with a small group of visionaries in 1970s, the cultural center was built piece by piece over 30 years. By the early 2000s Delray had an active theater and lecture hall, a jewel of a museum, an amphitheater for concerts, a prestigious art school, and a lively community center in the Vintage Gym. The cultural campus at the center of Delray catalyzed the rebirth of downtown and energized civic renewal. With the exception of the Cornell art museum, none of the other cultural venues have approached their former prominence.

The campus was active 365 days per year, with some evenings offering activities in all the buildings and spaces.  Old School Square (OSS) at its height offered more than 3,000 activities per year.

 

Despite the termination of the OSS lease, the not-for-profit which founded and built Old School Square has not gone away. It is raising funds and offering grants all dedicated to teaching the value of arts and culture to our children including grants for school art supplies, scholarships for students, and the 6×6 art sale and show.

After all this time the key question is how to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Where does the money come from? Who or what manages, schedules, recruits, and delivers all these activities.  Previously 75 to 80% of the annual costs were paid by the not- for-profit. Now the City (i.e., taxpayers) carries 100% of the cultural center expense: maintenance, programming, operations. Some of the costs are buried in the Parks and Public Works budgets, others consist of grants to the Downtown Development Agency. This strategy is not viable particularly with the current threat of a drastic reduction in property tax revenues.

The City owns the problem since they terminated the contract and repossessed the buildings. It’s past time for the City Commission to recognize its responsibilities and begin to rebuild what we once had.

  1. Cornucopia of Culture and Entertainment

This section is written to briefly mention a few of the activities we no longer have or are a shadow of their former selves. Old School Square was a magical place for events in the heart of the City – St Patrick’s Day, First Night, 100-foot Christmas Tree (including staffing) and Hannukah candles, and the Delray Affair. A few of the many examples are listed below:

  1. Speakers and Lecturers, some humorous, some musical, some thought provoking (Barbara Bush, Sandra Day O’Connor)
  2. Town Hall meetings educating all of us on issues that matter to Delray

(High Cost of Free Parking, Comprehensive plan)

  1. Extensive education programs for children and adults

Arts and culture were provided to public school children that were no longer available at school.

  1. Community gathering space, common ground to celebrate or to mourn

(student rally after mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School)

  1. Concerts in the Crest Theater and the Amphitheater

(Jimmy Buffet, Palm Beach Symphony Orchestra)

  1. Partnerships in the community

(Delray Art League, Orchid Show, first All America City award, Delray Beach Historical Society)

  1. Festivals found an inviting, affordable venue at Old School Square

(Roots Cultural Festival, open air art festivals, art of John Lennon and Yoko Ono))

  1. Education

(Full school – both day and night, National Water Color Society, League of Historic American Theaters)

  1. Lecture Series – nationally recognized figures spoke with Delray residents

General Alexander Haig– Sec of State, Bob Scha effer, Jane Russell

  1. Theater Productions

(Quest Black Theater group – Raisin in the Sun, Ain’t Misbehavin, Broadway’s Q Street)

  1. Cabaret Theater – patrons could gather at tables, enjoy a refreshing beverage and almost

reach out and touch the stars (Chita Rivera, Ann Hampton, Liz Calloway)

  1. Concerts at the Crest

(Jennifer Holiday, Lea Salonga)

  1. Minority Representation

(Preservation Hall Jazz Band, Tina Turner Review, Copeland Davis)

 

  1. Fund Raising and Programming Metrics

To give a sense of the activities available at OSS, here is the programming for a typical year

5 lectures per year

5 Broadway Cabarets (2 showings each)

10 mainstage shows

Art Exhibits 4- 6 per year

Field House (Vintage gym – 250 events

Art School – 25-30 teachers, 4000 students

16 free movies

10 free concerts

5 special events

5 comedies

Operations

Obviously such an encyclopedic schedule requires manpower and funding

Staff – 18 full time, 7-10 parttime

Volunteers 12 – 14 per Crest Theatre event, total of over 100

Members – 400 official members, donations exceeding $100k from Inner Circle

Annual ticket subscribers – 1,300

Total capital raised – $11 million to construct the campus

Economic Impact  (Source – Americans for the Arts) -$11- 15 million per year into the local economy

Fund Raising and Sources

National Endowment for the Arts

Grants – State Cultural Facilities and Historical Preservation

Elmore Family Fund, Lettie MacNeal Foundation, Laettner Fund, Cornell Family

Local donations and sponsorships from citizens and corporations

Florida State grants

Palm Beach County Tourist Development Council

Expense budget averaged $3 million per year

75% raised by OSSCTA, 25% from the City

  1. Call to Action

Four years ago the City Manager promised a “seamless transition with more and better cultural opportunities”. Obviously, that’s not the case…because we have lost so much. In August of 2022 the City held a charette to determine what residents and stakeholders wanted on the OSS campus.  The consensus was loud and clear, the participants wanted what they had previously.

 

As can be seen above, there are many moving parts to consider.  Several options have been attempted, including asking the Boca Museum to run OSS. Why should we ask another community to come in and run cultural programs in our town? A formal Request of Interest was posted nationally.  Although some entities expressed interest, no bids were received.

Meanwhile the Delray taxpayers are paying millions of dollars to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. However, no conversations are being held to solve this expensive problem – no plans for fund raising, programming or managing are being discussed.

With impending state legislation threatening a $21million revenue reduction and a change in Home Rule preventing investments in cultural affairs, it is hard to envision how the City can rebirth Old School Square. Meanwhile there is concern over deterioration of the 100-year-old buildings, especially the theater.

 

A Modest Strategy

The City should of course have great aspirations but minimize wishful thinking. We must recognize that at 350 seats, the Crest is a small theater with modest revenue. The average Broadway theater is 1500 seats and the Kravitz in West Palm is 2200, allowing more and higher priced tickets. Our expectations must be adjusted accordingly.

A smoothly operating cultural center must have a first-class management team, a governing entity like a board, a membership base, and a not-for-profit corporate structure with a strong local presence. This structure should not be imported from New York or Los Angeles (or Boca), and not be staffed or controlled by City Government.  Of course, we should look for a “Broadway angel” or bluebird financier but the likelihood of finding such is near zero.

To relaunch a cultural center, the key ingredients are

  1. Management by a not-for-profit dedicated to art, culture and education.

The Arsht, Kravitz Center, Lincoln Center, and Palm Beach Dramaworks are all

501(c)3 not-for-profits.

  1. The plan should start small and build over a 5 -10 year period. An overly ambitious plan is likely to fail. We only have to look at Boca and its $50 million plan at Mizner Park to see the result of overweight plans.
  2. The not for profit has to be staffed and managed by theater and cultural professionals, ideally with a stake in Delray.
  3. A cultural center must reach out to multiple funding sources – grants, donations, tickets, sponsorships and memberships. It is unlikely that such an enterprise is ever going to make a profit; plans must recognize that cultural institutions rarely, if ever, make money.
  4. Involvement with Delray Beach government must be limited despite the fact that the City is the landlord of the buildings. The not-for-profit must have a long-term lease that doesn’t include a clause that permits termination without cause if donors and grants are to be a major component to the funding. And whatever the organization chosen; it should be considered a partner not a “tenant” as some City officials want to do.  That approach demeans the organization and makes it nearly impossible to recreate what we had…a thriving cultural center in the heart of Delray.

7.Leadership of the organization must redefine the cultural activities accounting for differences that have occurred since 2021in the current population, new competition, importance of home entertainment, and higher operating expenses (especially for talent).

 

 

Since it is going to take a long time and heavy lifting, we should start now. The City has many priorities but returning Old School Square to its former glory should be one of the top ones. A consultant’s proposal will be considered at City Commission on September 22. Let’s hope it incorporates most of the features listed above.

 

 

 

 

3 August, 2026 16 16 Comments

Say My Name

August 3, 2026 By 16 Comments

So I premiered a play Off Broadway recently.

That’s a sentence I never thought I’d write.

Excuse me for a moment… I did it! Sorry, thanks for the indulgence, I’ll try and behave from here on out.

 

Say My Name opened at the AMT Theater as part of the 10th Annual Broadway Bound Theatre Festival, and I’m still trying to process everything I felt that week. I don’t think I’ll ever forget those three performances.

 

A Play That Wouldn’t Let Me Go

 

I wrote Say My Name about a year ago, and it’s gone through more drafts than I can count. It began as a ten-minute play called Press Conference, which won a few contests along the way and is still licensed in that form by Tiny Scripted, a distribution company.

This was a story I couldn’t quite let go of. The characters kept talking after the curtain came down on the 10-minute version, so I expanded it into a full-length play and brought it to Working Title Playwrights in Atlanta for development.

 

That process reminded me of something I believe more every year: writing may begin alone, but good writing rarely stays that way. A good play requires collaboration; people who help you wrestle with the work, talented artists who help you bring it from the page to the stage.

Throughout the process, I’d send pages written on my phone or in my mancave at home.  My collaborators, first in Atlanta, later in New York City, asked hard questions. I’d process the comments and then rewrite. Then we’d do it all over again. It’s the kind of collaboration that keeps a writer honest, and it’s why I seek out thoughtful partners whenever I can. Writing is solitary work. It doesn’t have to be lonely.

 

A great dramaturg knows when to challenge you and when to step aside. He or she pushes you toward a better version of your play without ever forgetting that it still belongs to you.

 

But once a playwright hands over a script, something remarkable happens.

 

It stops being my play.

 

It becomes our play.

 

That may be my favorite part of theater. That’s when the fun begins.

 

Words that lived for months inside one person’s imagination suddenly belong to actors, designers, directors, stage managers, technicians, and eventually an audience. Every one of them finds something you never knew was there.

Say My Name tells the story of a 15-year-old boy who was shot and killed outside a school dance. I wrote the play to honor the memory of Jerrod Miller, a 16-year-old who was shot by a rookie police officer in 2005 outside the Delray Full Service Center. I was mayor at the time.

The tragedy left a hole in my heart and the hearts of many, many others. The loss has also been largely forgotten by many, something that didn’t sit right with me. I wanted to write something that forces audiences to stop and consider the names that scroll by on TV screens when violence occurs. It is not Jerrod’s story per se, but it is a composite of too many young lives lost in this country.

I sent it in for consideration to the Broadway Bound Theatre Festival, a prestigious event that celebrated its 10th year in 2026. It was chosen and I was thrilled to lead off the festival which runs through August at the AMT Theatre in the heart of the NY’s theatre district.

I was fortunate to work with visionary Director Reena Dutt who saw things in the script that I hadn’t seen myself. Every conversation we had, every adjustment she suggested, every staging choice she made ultimately strengthened the play. It’s a rare gift to trust someone so completely with something so personal.

 

Working mostly from Florida, I leaned heavily on our extraordinary stage manager, Lauren Linsey, who somehow managed to make the distance disappear with grace, kindness, and remarkable organization.

Then there was the cast.

Watching actors breathe life into characters who had existed only in my head for more than a year was one of the great privileges of my life.

 

Acclaimed stage and screen actor Tim Redmond brought intelligence and warmth that audiences immediately embraced. Eric Ruffin told me he had read the script more than a hundred times and every ounce of that commitment showed in a performance filled with quiet gravity and extraordinary compassion. Veteran actor Guiesseppe Jones gave Reverend Clayton exactly the presence I had imagined when I first wrote him.

 

Jennifer Laine Williams did something I’ll never forget. Audience members told us afterward they had expected to dislike her character. Instead, they found themselves understanding her—perhaps even rooting for her. There may be no greater compliment an actor can receive than making people reconsider their own assumptions.

 

Imani Jones brought enormous tenderness to her role, often leaving audiences in tears. Craig Cartwright embraced one of the play’s most difficult characters with remarkable courage. Richard Yarrell III’s voice, by more than one account, was simply heavenly. And Amanda Bailey captured my heart on our very first Zoom encounter, became exactly the spiritual heartbeat I had imagined for the ancestors guiding Eric’s character Marcus. Her voice alongside Richard’s created moments I’ll never forget.

Actors are remarkable people. Impossibly dedicated, smart and passionate, they can make even a newbie like me look good.

 

The Hours Nobody Sees

 

People see opening night.

They don’t see the months that come before it.

For me, rehearsals began after my workday ended; night after night from seven until eleven, weekends included. Most of my work happened over Zoom before I finally joined everyone in New York for final rehearsals and tech. I was so happy to be with these people, even for a few hectic days. I savored every moment. It still feels like a dream.

There is something wonderfully surreal about the creative process. One evening you’re discussing where a scene should go and rewriting a speech alone at your desk. A few months later you’re watching an actor deliver those same words to a silent theater full of strangers, and they’re wiping away tears.

When the house lights dimmed on opening night, I realized there was nothing left for me to do.

For months I had rewritten scenes, questioned every choice, and obsessed over every page. Suddenly the play belonged to the people onstage—and to the audience sitting in the dark. For the first time since typing “END OF PLAY,” I was simply another audience member.

 

What You’re Actually Chasing

 

People sometimes think theater artists chase applause.

Applause is wonderful.

But that’s not really what we’re after.

When a play truly works, you can feel something move through the room. You hear people laughing or crying together. You feel something that can’t be described, energy, emotion, connection to a story. Then the lights come up, and nobody rushes for the exits. They linger in their seats. They gather in the lobby. They continued conversations they weren’t having two hours earlier on the sidewalk with the actors and each other.

That’s exactly what I hoped this play would do.

The cast got a standing ovation which they richly deserved for immersing themselves in their roles and telling a story that is important. The tears, and the generous applause were deeply moving, but the moments I’ll remember most happened afterward. I collected dozens of audience comment cards over those three performances. Nearly every single one praised the extraordinary work of the cast, the direction, and the production itself. More importantly, people wanted to keep talking. They debated. They reflected. They asked questions.

That was always the goal.

To help people feel something.

To help people think and remember.

And maybe, just maybe, to help them talk to one another again.

 

Full Circle

 

What made the experience even more meaningful was looking out into the audience and seeing people who had been part of this journey long before opening night.

Friends traveled from far and wide to support me.  A wonderful group from Delray Beach made the trip north as well, a reminder that while this play opened in Manhattan, it carries a great deal of Florida with it.

More people than I can count have told me they hope this story finds a larger audience.

I hope it does too.

If it does, I hope this same creative family is standing beside me again. I can’t imagine a better group of artists, or a more compassionate group of human beings, to continue telling this story.

At its heart, Say My Name asks us to do something both simple and impossibly difficult: to truly see one another, to love one another, and to remember our shared responsibility to serve and protect each other.

Reflections

Ten years of the Broadway Bound Theatre Festival.

And somehow I had the privilege of opening its tenth season.

I still catch myself saying it out loud every now and then, just to make sure it’s real.

I premiered a play Off Broadway.

That’s still a sentence I never thought I’d get to write.

I hope this story inspires you to try something you never thought possible.

 

6 July, 2026 8 8 Comments

Retired Old Men Eating Out

July 6, 2026 By 8 Comments

The wonderful cast and director of The Romeos. From left, Matthew, Shelly, Kathryn, Gary and Peter.

Imagine this.
You invite people to a beautiful, historic space with plush chairs, great sight lines, professional sound and lighting and ask them to listen to a wide variety of stories told by a talented team of writers, actors and directors whose only goal is to inspire and entertain.

There are no screens. No ear buds. No algorithms and no cell phones.
Instead, you’re asked to lean in and pay attention–all at the same time, together.
That’s the magic of theatre and when it comes together, when the actors are clicking and the storytellers are doing their job you get swept away by the experience. And when it’s over, you have something to talk about, something to think about. You will have laughed, you may have cried but you will depart feeling human again, part of a community that enjoys the immense pleasure and value of storytelling.
That’s theatre. And that’s what the Playwrights Festival at the Delray Beach Playhouse delivers year after year.

The 7th annual Playwrights Festival recently wrapped on a scorching hot Sunday afternoon.
A sold out weekend ended with my play The Romeo’s closing the festival.

Afterwards, the playwrights gather on stage for a talkback. The audience asks questions, share their thoughts and for a few golden moments we get to shine.
It’s a heckuva feeling my friends.

But then you get to walk through the theater greeting audience members, actors and stagehands because nobody really wants to let go just yet.
For the performers and playwrights the nervous tension has been released.
There’s a feeling of “we did it” permeating the air. It’s not easy to get up on a stage and try to transport an audience for 10-15 minutes—the length of the plays featured by the festival.
It’s not easy to write dialogue either, unless you’re Nora Ephron or Neil Simon.

Most of us mortals sit staring at blank screens trying to wrestle an idea into something coherent through trial and a whole lot of errors.
To see that work come to life through the talents of gifted actors shaped by visionary directors is a feeling that is indescribable. It’s worth the labor. Every time.
But there’s risk involved. Delicious risk because you never know if what you’ve written is any good until you hear it out loud or as theater people say “on its feet.”

I wrote “The Romeos” after a weekend family reunion where my brother in law Paul talked about “retired old men eating out.” Get it. Romeo’s.
At the time, I didn’t know it was a thing. All I knew, was that it was a great concept for a play. So I got to work. Now that I have a little experience and have met several actors I find myself writing with those actors in mind.

For the Romeos I imagined my friends Shelly Pittleman and Peter Salzer in two of the lead roles.
I saw Shelly as Frank, a widowed plumber grieving the loss of his wife Marie. And I saw Peter as Morty, a health conscious accountant.
We needed a third character so I created Sid, a retired English teacher and poetry aficionado who is also a romantic and a bit of a ladies man.
I put them in a diner on 441 and imagined that they met weekly in the same booth where they were ably waited on by Jessica, a younger waitress with aspirations and wisdom forged by hard won experience.

If I am to be honest, this one came easy. A first draft was done in about an hour. I saw the characters clearly. I had the set up, and I think I knew what life lessons I was hoping to convey in a quick s few pages.
Now all I needed was for it to be funny and touching. No problem.

Yeah right.

The truth is sometimes writing comes easy, it just flows and sometimes, most of the time, it’s a slog of self doubt. You search in vain for magic and you wrestle with a feeling that it’s lacking that certain something you just can’t put your finger on.

For me, and other writers I’ve spoken to, we live for those flow moments when the words just appear from some mysterious place. But we also relish the struggle because we have faith that the struggle will make us better. When you struggle and solve the riddle it’s a great feeling. It’s also a great feeling when the characters cooperate and write for you.

The Romeos was the latter feeling for me. I heard Peter and Shelly. And when we cast Gary Eggers as Sid and Kathleen Shelton as Jessica they slid into the characters I imagined.
I can see myself writing with them in mind in the future.

The next step is to turn your script over to a talented director in this case the remarkable Matthew Schenk.
Matt and the cast made it sing.
And then, it’s over.
It’s performed and it vanishes.

That’s the cruelty and the grace of live theater. It’s not a movie. You can’t rewind it. You can’t stream it at midnight in your pajamas. You were either there or you weren’t. And if you were there– if you were in that room on that Sunday afternoon, then you own something that no one can take from you and no one else will ever have. Your version. Your experience. The way that particular line landed in your particular chest on that particular afternoon.

A film is a recording. A book is an object. A play is a séance.
You summon something into the room. It lives for a few minutes. Then it goes back to wherever it came from. And you sit there in the dark after the lights go down and you think: “was that real”?
It was real. It was a Sunday afternoon in Delray beach and it was real.

I’ve written a number of plays now. Some of them have been produced, some of them live in drawers, some of them are still becoming whatever they’re gonna become. But I will tell you this; nothing, nothing compares to sitting in a theater and hearing an audience laughing at the line you wrote alone on your phone at two in the morning. Nothing compares to the actor who finds something in the words you didn’t know was there, a pause you didn’t write, a gesture you didn’t imagine, a take that elevates a line and creates a magical moment.
Once you turn a play over to a creative team, it’s not your play anymore. It becomes our play and that’s my favorite part because the team takes the writing to places you never imagine.

The Playwrights Festival does something that almost nobody does anymore. It bets on new work. It bets on the unknown. It says; we don’t know if this piece is going to work, but we’re gonna put it in a room with real actors and a real audience and find out together. That’s not programming. That’s faith.
And as festival co-creator Marianne Regan reminds audiences, this work matters because we are creating the theater of tomorrow. We are building the canon in our own humble but sincere way.
We are also building community.
The festival sells out. In the middle of summer, the so-called slow season.
But there’s clearly a hunger for stories and live performance. There’s clearly a desire to get together and experience something live and in person with our friends and neighbors.
If I could, I’d live in that world.
It is hard to leave it.
I noticed that people linger. They want to talk to the actors and playwrights and each other. That’s so beautiful.
But eventually we leave, the curtain goes down, the lights go off. The actors go back to their lives.
That’s theater.
You build a world. You fill it with people. You let strangers into it for a few minutes and then you strike it, pack it up and carry it home where nobody can see it but you know it’s there.
The Romeos lived for one afternoon in Delray beach.
The imaginary booth is gone. The props are in a box somewhere.
Frank and Morty and Sid and Jessica are back in the script, where they live, waiting for the next time someone gives them a room, a light, and an audience.

29 June, 2026 4 4 Comments

My Friend The Pioneer: A Personal Tribute

June 29, 2026 By 4 Comments

Linda, her brother Howard, Scott and me at the U.S. Open celebrating our 50th birthdays.

My friend Linda Cohn announced her retirement from ESPN last week after 34 incredible years.

Because she’s been an important trailblazer for women in sports journalism, Linda’s announcement was big news.

But long before Linda Cohn became a household name — before the record 5,500 SportsCenter broadcasts, before the National Sports Media Hall of Fame, before she was the most prolific anchor in ESPN history — she was my friend Howie’s older sister. His cool, very cool, big sister. I’ve always admired her.
Linda was a terrific athlete, had a great sense of humor and impeccable taste in music and never made us feel like we were in the way.

Howie (now Dr. Howard Cohn) and I were born a week apart. So, we often celebrated our birthdays together with a visit–accompanied by our good friend Scott– to an amusement park near Amityville off the Long Island Expressway.

Amityville became better known for a horror movie bearing its name, but to us it was home to a place full of rides and arcade games. Linda or her dad would often drive us.

She also took us to concerts. One memorable show was the Doobie Brothers at Nassau Coliseum.

We scored great seats because Howie and Linda’s mom worked as a store nurse at Macy’s. Her office was next to what I think was called the “ticketron”, which meant we had an “in” to score tickets to the best shows of the day. Billy Joel at the Garden, Foreigner and Johnny Winter also at the Garden, Styx at the Coliseum. It was the 70s, and rock ruled the land.

 

My memories of Linda from those days are vivid. She knew more about sports than anyone, loved the Knicks, Rangers, Mets and Giants, played goalie on an ice hockey team and was an awesome tennis player.

Yes, Linda was cool. She also had a great laugh, put up with our jokes and never seemed to be annoyed when forced to hang out with us. And folks, we could be annoying.

One time, we went to see Beatlemania at the Winter Garden Theatre on Broadway. We went with Linda and my friend’s Scott’s big sister and probably somebody else. Being young and foolish, we wanted some distance from these older women, so we sat in another car on the Long Island Railroad on the way to Penn Station.

When we heard the conductor announce Penn Station, we got off the train, only it wasn’t Penn Station. It was the stop before. The big sisters watched in horror as the train pulled away with us standing on the podium. Eventually, we reunited in the actual Penn Station. I don’t remember their reaction, but I think they were forgiving. I’m also pretty sure we stayed together until we returned safely to Stony Brook.

There were more trips and experiences. We went to Central Park when John Lennon was killed in 1980 for the vigil. That was unforgettable.

We also visited SUNY Oswego, where Linda played on the hockey team and studied broadcast communications.

My memories are her always laughing with us.

That’s the thing about knowing someone before they become someone.

You carry a version of them that the world never gets to see. The Linda Cohn who became a pioneer for women in sports journalism is the same person I watched grow up — or rather, the person who watched us grow up, shepherding a bunch of younger kids around Long Island with the patience of someone who probably had bigger things on her mind already.

She started at WALK-AM/FM in Patchogue N.Y. in 1981, covering news and sports. By 1992 she was at ESPN, and the rest is television history. But numbers don’t really tell the story. What Linda did was simply show up, every night, and treat sports like it mattered — because to her, it genuinely did. As mentioned, she was a former college hockey goalie. She wasn’t performing enthusiasm. She had it.

For those of us who spent decades watching SportsCenter, Linda was the constant. Generations of kids fell asleep to her voice recapping the late scores. And quietly, without making a crusade of it, she was showing a generation of young women that the anchor desk belonged to them too.

She said it herself, in her retirement statement: “What I’m most proud of is that my career lasted long enough for me to see little girls grow up watching SportsCenter, enter this business and succeed in it.”

That’s the whole thing, right there.

At a Queen concert in Sunrise, Florida.

 

 

When Howie and I turned 50, Linda did something I’ll never forget. She treated us to a sports weekend in New York City, access to the ESPN box at the US Open, sideline passes for a Giants preseason game (we were a few feet from Tom Brady and he waved to her), up close at a Mets game. It was one of those weekends that reminds you how lucky you’ve been with the friends you’ve collected across a lifetime. She could have made arrangements for us and said have fun, but she came with us instead. We got to hang out and joke all weekend. It was a magical time.

The teenager who drove us to concerts became the woman who changed what sports television looked like. But she never seemed to forget where she came from, and she never stopped bringing people along with her.

In recent years, we attended a Queen concert in Sunrise (just like old times) and met for dinner at La Cigale in Delray Beach.

There are texts, mostly during football season, where all of us lament life as Giants fans.

We share photos of people we used to know, poke gentle fun at the world and follow each other on social media.

Recently, Linda did a great podcast with Rich Eisen as part of his series “That was SportsCenter.”  Don’t miss it, it’s awesome. Here’s a link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8hGFBz5iv7k

Linda has met all the legends in just about every sport. Walking around NYC with her was a trip. She was stopped for photos etc., and my friend Scott photo bombed every single one.

And we laughed. How cool is that?

Linda, congratulations on a career that mattered. You earned every one of those record setting broadcasts and inspired a generation of women entering sports journalism. Wow.

And thanks for the rides too. Can’t wait to see what the next chapter holds.

15 June, 2026 0 Comments

Culture Is Essential Civic Infrastructure

June 15, 2026 By Leave a Comment

Marjorie Waldo hosts an excellent podcast exploring all aspects of arts and culture.

I love podcasts.
They keep me company every morning when I get ready for the day. They accompany me on long road trips and I count on them for information and ideas.
But appearing on a podcast is a whole other ballgame.

You just never know how it’s going to shake out. I’ve done a few over the years—a Springsteen related pod called “That One Lyric”, Kate Volman’s terrific podcast on creativity and a few related to city government, leadership and philanthropy.
I’ve always enjoyed the experience but it can be daunting.

Recently, I appeared on the Arts Garage’s excellent podcast called “Culture Under Fire.” I never miss an episode because they are all so good. The host, Arts Garage CEO Marjorie Waldo, is terrific. She’s  smart, engaging and passionate about all things culture. She has a wonderful voice and is a great interviewer—which is a skill I appreciate and admire. I think of her as the local Terry Gross or Sam Fragoso. If you know, you know. If you don’t check out Fresh Air and Talk Easy.
Back to Marjorie.

When you are one of Marjorie’s guests, you are in good hands. You forget you are on a podcast, you get swept up in the conversation.
I’ve known Marjorie for a lot of years now. Prior to her decade at the Arts Garage, she ran a charter school in Delray Beach that served as training ground for young people interested in automotive repair.
The school was the brainchild of Johnny Pun and Fred Glass who used to work for our Police Department.
Johnny and Fred attended a city commission goal setting session back in the day. They came with an idea to start a charter school that would teach kids automotive repair skills.
We thought it was brilliant and the Commission invested in the idea. I’m pretty sure it was the first time in Florida that a Police Department opened a charter school. We took pride in being innovative in those days.

Marjorie served as principal at the school and I admired her combination of administrative skills and passion for the mission. So when she was selected to run the Arts Garage I was
thrilled. For the past decade, she has done a remarkable job.
Let’s linger on that for a moment.

She stepped into to a turnaround situation at a politically fraught moment and knocked it out of the park. That’s not easy to do.
She’s provided stability, vision, fiscal discipline and leadership. She’s also a true believer in the power of the arts to transform communities.

I believe culture is essential civic infrastructure. The arts drives economic development, brings us together and offers quality of life benefits that sometimes can’t be measured but also can’t be denied.
Marjorie and her great team have made Arts Garage an important, integral and inclusive asset for not only Delray but also the region. A vast array of artists and patrons are grateful.
I’ve come to understand that communities thrive when special people show up and dig in. That’s what Marjorie has done; with heart, soul and a willingness to take some artistic risks.
We are better for all of it.

Working in the arts has never been an easy task.
Money has always been tight. It’s about to get even tighter. Donors have a vast array of worthy causes to chose from so the competition for grants and gifts is fierce.
Into this terrain, Marjorie and her small team happily venture.

In a time of screens, AI, division, algorithms and estrangement, culture is more important than ever.
It’s one of the very few things we can experience , in real time, together.
That’s worth a whole lot.
A few days ago, we traveled to Sarasota to see the world premiere of Lauren Gunderson’s new play “Lady Disdain.”
Lauren has been America’s most produced playwright for five of the past seven years. In short, she’s a rock star.
I got to know her through my recent adventures in theatre. When she invited me to the premiere, I jumped at the chance.
We sat next to Lauren and the amazing director Sean Daniels to see their vision come to life. It was remarkable to see their joy as they experienced à large crowd hang on every word and every action on stage. Nobody was on their phones. We were in the moment together. It was wonderful.
The best art challenges us to think, feel and hopefully talk to each other.
The Arts Garage provides this service several times a week. It is invaluable.
Check out the Culture Under Fire podcast available on all your favorite platforms. You won’t regret it. Here are some links.

To Listen on Spotify or Apple:

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/episode/0jziadv0kM4rIQhsUDGxJo

Apple: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/episode-20-stagecraft-statecraft-the-politics/id1834281851?i=1000771836508

To Watch on Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L8giQFEHgfk

8 June, 2026 3 3 Comments

Carrying The Dream Forward

June 8, 2026 By 3 Comments

Award Winner Emmanuel “Dupree” Jackson.

When people remember Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., they often think about the dream.

 

But Dr. King was more than a dreamer. He was an organizer, a strategist, and a builder. He believed that lasting change happens when people are empowered to lead, serve, and lift up their communities.

 

That legacy lives on in Delray Beach through the work of my friend  Emanuel “Dupree” Jackson Jr. Recently, Dupree was honored by the National Education Association with the

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial Award. The award is given to leaders who emulate Dr. King’s leadership and philosophy.

The recognition is a very big deal. A national award! I can’t imagine a more deserving honoree.

I’ve been watching Dupree for years now. He’s a special person and a special leader.

As founder of the Emanuel Jackson Sr. (EJS) Project, Dupree has dedicated his life to creating opportunities for young people. Named in honor of his late father, who instilled in him the values of education, service, and community, the organization has become one of the most impactful youth development programs in Palm Beach County and a national model.

 

The Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation is proud to support EJS because we believe in investing in people who are making a lasting difference in the communities they call home. Few people embody that mission more completely than Dupree.

 

For more than a decade, EJS has helped over 5,000 young people build brighter futures through academic support, mental health counseling, leadership development, workforce training, and paid internship opportunities. But the organization’s impact extends far beyond the services it provides.

 

EJS creates spaces where young people can have honest conversations about issues affecting their lives. Participants learn about history, current events, civic engagement, and the responsibilities that come with citizenship. They are encouraged not only to understand their communities, but to help shape them.

 

Through participation in City Commission meetings, engagement with the Delray Beach Police Department, and direct interaction with civic and business leaders, young people gain firsthand experience in leadership and public service. They learn that their voices matter and that they have the power to make a difference.

 

One of EJS’s signature initiatives, Purpose Pays, offers youth ages 14 to 18 compensated work experiences, and professional development opportunities. Participants earn income while learning teamwork, communication, initiative, project management, and workplace responsibility. The program reinforces a simple but powerful idea: opportunity creates confidence, and confidence creates leaders.

 

Anyone who knows Dupree knows his commitment goes well beyond programs and statistics. He organizes neighborhood beautification projects, sponsors after-school tutoring, and leads educational trips that expose young people to history and African American culture. For many participants, these experiences represent their first opportunity to travel beyond their immediate surroundings and see a larger world of possibilities.

 

More importantly, Dupree shows up.

 

He shows up for young people who need encouragement. He shows up for families looking for support. He shows up for a community that believes deeply in the potential of its next generation.

 

His personal motto—”Bout Dat Action”—is more than a slogan. It is a philosophy of service. It reflects a belief that meaningful change requires commitment, consistency, and a willingness to do the work every day.

 

That is why his recent recognition with the Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Memorial Award feels so fitting.

 

Like Dr. King, Dupree understands that dreams matter. But he also understands that dreams become reality only when people are willing to roll up their sleeves and get to work.

 

For years, he has been doing exactly that—helping young people find their voices, discover their purpose, and realize their potential.

Delray Beach is better because of it.

Check out the EJS Project. It will give you hope for the future. https://ejsproject.org/

 

 

A Teachable Moment

I had an odd experience recently, that I thought I would share because the story contains some lessons that I think may be helpful.

I subscribe to a real estate blog that I usually find interesting. It includes a video summary that covers what’s happening in South Florida.

Recently, when it showed up in my inbox it had a provocative headline referencing an “old” Delray mayor embarking on a real estate project.

I thought, “Which of my predecessors is taking on a project in such a challenging environment—high interest rates, inflation, labor issues, and more?”

Then, I read the story, and I realized they were referring to me. Only they were using the name of a work colleague, who never served as mayor of Delray Beach.

Many things about the story were inaccurate, starting with the names.

As a former journalist, this kind of stuff nags at me. I don’t get mad, just annoyed.

Now the blogger is not a reporter, he’s a real estate broker. But still, come on folks. Two minutes of checking via Google would have cleared up a few very basic things.

I shrugged it off ( even the reference to being “old” rather than being referred to as a former mayor) but then I clicked on the video which implied that the misnamed old mayor used his political influence to get the project approved. There were a few snarky remarks, a bunch of innuendo and the impression that this is how it works—elected officials serve so they can monetize their office.

Well, I’d like to say that’s never true, but I can’t. However, it’s not true for every elected official. And it’s not true for me.

I don’t use my former position to get favors from city government. There are five elected officials in Delray, I know four of them, have never met one, have never talked to another, and the remaining three I don’t talk to unless they call me, which is rarely if ever. I am friends with Commissioner Judy Mollica. Our friendship predates any thought of her running for office.

In addition, I barely know anyone who works at City Hall these days. The folks I worked with are long gone.

It’s nothing personal. I’m at a different place in life. I wish them all well. Go forth and build a better Delray. It’s someone else’s turn now and has been since 2007 when I was termed out.

Don’t ask me about parking. Don’t ask me about beach renourishment. Don’t ask me about the Coco Market.  I am no longer current. And when it comes to development, I have one piece of advice: follow the rules.

I sent an email to the blogger/real estate guy clarifying the facts. A few hours later I got a response from his “content manager” assuring me the blog was corrected and it was. The content person also said that associated materials were also corrected. But the video is still floating around, which isn’t cool.

I bring this up because I think it’s what they call a teachable moment.

We miss local journalism, done well by people trained in how to obtain and verify facts. I am not saying that the press is perfect, they’re not. They make mistakes, there are biases (reporters are human) but there used to be curation and fact checking. I miss that.

I listen to a podcast called Top of Mind Florida which is co-hosted by former Channel 5 anchor Michael Williams and long time Palm Beach Post political writer Brian Crowley. It’s on all the usual platforms and I highly recommend you check it out. What makes it stand out  is the perspective these two veteran journalists bring to the subjects they cover. They know Palm Beach County, they know Florida, they know about life and it shows in the questions they ask and the context they bring to the podcast.

Journalism is the only profession named in our Constitution and it’s at risk. Democracy really does die in the darkness.

Now, I am not saying that a real estate blog that made a mistake is a threat to Democracy. But I am saying that facts matter.

On a recent visit to Chicago, my colleagues and I sat down with the president of the legendary MacArthur Foundation in his incredible office in the famed Marquette building.

John Palphrey is an impressive person. A great grandson of Teddy Roosevelt. A man who has taught at Harvard, written books, ran an elite educational institution and now is making a big mark in philanthropy around the world.

I asked Mr. Palphrey where his foundation’s investments made the most impact. His answer surprised me.

“Local journalism” he said without hesitation. He saw an immediate impact via investment in supporting local news.

It was an interesting answer. And one that surprised me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about what he said that day. I heard a similar sentiment during a recent visit with the head of the Arthur Vining Davis Foundation.

On another note, there’s a business lesson in how you handle mistakes, which do happen. You own them and you correct them, personally. I wrote to the real estate blogger. I got a kind response from the content manager. That’s a missed opportunity.

When I screw up, which I do from time to time, I try to take responsibility, learn from my mistakes and personally apologize. I don’t outsource that part of my life.

Often, in life and business, it’s not the mistake that matters, it’s how you handle it.

 

25 May, 2026 4 4 Comments

The Creative Life

May 25, 2026 By 4 Comments

Where it started for me and I’m sure others.

Memorial Day 2026…I found this story of a Civil War soldier that I thought was beautiful and sad. If you get a chance, look up Major Ballou’s letter. It’s remarkable.

Major Sullivan Ballou is remembered not only for his service in the Civil War, but for one of the most moving letters ever written by an American soldier. Just before the First Battle of Bull Run in 1861, Ballou wrote to his wife Sarah about his love for her and his willingness to sacrifice everything for the Union. He was killed in battle a week later at the age of 32.

On Memorial Day, Ballou’s words remind us that behind every flag and every ceremony is a human story — of love, duty, sacrifice, and the families forever changed by war. His letter endures because it speaks not only to patriotism, but to the cost of service borne by ordinary people asked to do extraordinary things.

 

You find out via email.
“Thank you for sending your play. We received a record 647 submissions for our festival and regrettably we can’t produce your work this year.”
They go on to say how brave you were for sending your work, how appreciative they are for your submission blah blah blah.
Yes, the theatre world is polite.
Yes, the competition really is that fierce.
But it does take a little out of you when you get that dreaded rejection.

It reminds me of junior high school when you would bravely cross the gym floor after spending two hours working up the courage to ask Regina from sixth period Earth Science if she would like to slow dance only to have her tell you no. Talk about crushing.

I once got so nervous asking a young woman for a date that I forgot her answer.
I walked away from her locker so fast I  couldn’t remember a word she said.
It must have been yes, because a few days later she told me she had to cancel because her uncle was taking her fishing.
I never worked up the courage to ask her again.

My supportive friends, ever sensitive to my feelings, made t shirts memorializing the incident. I can’t complain though, I eagerly awaited any misstep to make fun of them. Yes, being a teenage boy in 1980 should have come with a suit of armor.

Playwriting feels a little like what I just described.
You walk across the imaginary room (by hitting send on your heartfelt work) and wait eagerly for acceptance or denial.
Denial stings—momentarily. You mean my play didn’t jump out among the hundreds of entries from across the globe to earn its place in your festival? Who are these judges anyway? Don’t they know talent when they see it?

Oh wait, maybe I don’t have what it takes, who am I kidding. I have no training and no business putting pen to paper. Who would want to see my plays anyway?
Sigh.

But you persist, because you know you must. Writing is fun so you keep typing.

And then lightning strikes. You get an acceptance —also via email from some theater you’ve never heard of in a town you’ve never visited and suddenly you are on top of the world.
Look out Neil Simon, here I come!

Just like that your confidence is restored and you Google the town and the theatre and you begin to imagine what it will be like to hear your words come to life in a distant locale.
A reason to persist, a reason to keep creating.

I’m just back from a trip to Maine, where my play “The Get” got a wonderful, staged reading at a beautiful synagogue as part of a Jewish play festival.
The acting was sublime. The director was fabulous. The other plays— four chosen from an international crop—were all terrific.

One other playwright, Michael Petshaft, a veteran writer and college professor from Connecticut was there. We were treated like VIPs, introduced to applause, approached afterwards by audience members who asked questions and wanted to talk about what they had just seen.

It’s very cool.

Magical. Inspiring.

It made me want to go home and write and write and write. And that’s what I did.

When my plays are selected I always like to connect with the director and actors. I like to thank them for their generosity, for putting in hours of time preparing and for having the courage to stand in front of a large crowd and perform.
I also like to get to know who they are.

In this case, our director Ann Tracy was a veteran of theater and a retired radio personality in Milwaukee, Denver and San Diego. She was lovely to work with.
The actors Hal Cohen and Claudia Hughes were also veterans and very talented. Claudia was a dancer, oil painter and well known local actress. Hal is a physician with an impressive background as an actor and playwright himself.

The event was a fundraiser for a local synagogue. I’m thrilled that they chose theater to gather their community to celebrate their mission which includes a heavy dose of community.
Live performance is one of the few things we have left that allows us to get together and share an experience in real time with our neighbors.

Many of us are stuck behind screens, doom scrolling, losing time on our apps—alone.
Theater, music, dance, comedy in a club or theatre or in this case a sanctuary allows us to mix and mingle.
A good play inspires us to think and talk to each other. Perhaps the story moves us in some way.  I think it’s essential civic infrastructure and maybe more important than ever. We can’t let the algorithm win. We have to stay human.

In about a month, on June 27-28, people in our community have a chance to attend the 7th annual Playwrights Festival at the historic Delray Beach Playhouse. The festival features local playwrights, local actors and local directors working together to tell short 10- minute stories. If you come, I promise you will be swept away.

The level of talent here is amazing.

This is the third year I’ve participated.
My full- length play “The Cafe on Main” —the very first play I ever wrote —started at this festival as a short.
The Arts Garage helped me develop it into a full-length, which was also a great experience.
Thanks to festival directors Marianne Regan and Dan Bellante, I’ve gained a whole new hobby since turning 60.
I’ve made friends with the actors, directors and fellow playwrights.
I’m taken by their talent, warmth and dedication.

This year I wrote a play called “The Romeo’s” (retired old men eating out).
It’s a sweet little story written for older actors and their affection for their favorite server.
I hope you can make it. The other plays sound great. For tickets visit https://na01.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.delrayplayhouse.org%2F&data=05%7C02%7C%7C3a736bba24c64f8117e508deb9b1520e%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C639152368390894652%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJFbXB0eU1hcGkiOnRydWUsIlYiOiIwLjAuMDAwMCIsIlAiOiJXaW4zMiIsIkFOIjoiTWFpbCIsIldUIjoyfQ%3D%3D%7C0%7C%7C%7C&sdata=eBApUKEcAPP11s4lVE6pO1KxiYLioIJqqb5W29YdbhI%3D&reserved=0.
Please support local theatre. It’s important. I guarantee you’ll make new friends and enjoy the experience.

 

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