What’s Possible

Inside The Edythe

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I had a remarkable experience a few months back that I wanted to share with you.

My teammates and I at the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation went on a “What’s Possible Tour” courtesy of the Philanthropic Services Team at Bank of America. We work closely with the team on all issues relating to philanthropy. They consult on governance, technology, best practices and any questions we might have about how to be good philanthropists. They are invaluable and we treasure their expertise and kindness.

They bring a national perspective to our “place-based” local philanthropy.

So, in the spirit of finding out ‘what’s possible’, we ventured to Central Florida to check in with the Dr. Phillips Foundation, the Edythe Bush Foundation, the Winter Park Health Foundation, Lift Orlando and the Central Florida Foundation. We also had an opportunity to visit the sensational Morse Museum on Park Avenue in Winter Park for a behind the scenes tour that served as a lesson in what culture can do for a community. The Morse is a local and national treasure.  With our local arts scene threatened by funding cuts, we need to be vigilant and make sure we don’t lose what makes us special.

We came back from Central Florida brimming with ideas and filled with inspiration, excitement and motivation. We saw ‘what’s possible’ and we are determined to pursue transformation.

It’s a good lesson for all of us. Regardless of what you do for a living, it’s important to step back and explore what’s possible. For a small investment of time, we had an opportunity to refresh, recharge and change our thinking.

I think people crave inspiration. We want to be moved by a mission, we need to know our “why” and we long to find opportunities to pursue big ideas, ideas that will outlive us.

The best philanthropists, the leaders who matter, the entrepreneurs who make a dent in our world do so with posterity in mind. They understand that their highest calling is to plant seeds that others will benefit from. They plant trees knowing that others will enjoy the shade. In that spirit, here’s what we saw. I encourage you to design your own “What’s Possible Tour.”

Dr. Phillips Charities

We were blown away by the Dr. Phillips headquarters. Words cannot do justice to the building and the grounds…just a remarkable space and a statement that Dr. Phillips is here for the long haul.

It’s hard to overstate the influence Dr. Phillips and his family foundation have had on Orange and Osceola Counties. Phillips made his fortune in the citrus industry which shaped The Sunshine State. That fortune is now being used to enhance health, culture, education and the economic and social well-being of the region.

We turned to the leadership of the Dr. Phillips team  when we were tasked with forming the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation and their guidance was invaluable in our start-up days.

To experience their work up close was breathtaking.

Dr. Phillips has significant real estate holdings, and they are busy turning those assets into places that will benefit the greater Orlando area.

Perhaps the most exciting project they have is the 202-acre “Packing District” which is being transformed into a vibrant mixed-use project.

One of the original citrus producers in the region, Dr. Phillips used the land that stretches along Orange Blossom Trail near College Park as the site of one of his multiple packing houses, creating a key place in the early economic ecosystem of Orlando. The site was the first industrial property in Central Florida and the crown jewel in Dr. Phillips’ real estate holdings. The plan includes 97 acres of mixed-use and residential development (1 million square feet or retail/office and 3,500 units) and a 105-acre regional park which will include a 40-acre urban farm which will focus on fixing a broken food system offering learning experiences and using sustainable practices from around the world to grow healthy food.

Our team was struck by Dr. Phillips long-term vision and the importance they place on being good stewards, which was a key principle of their founder.

Edythe Bush Foundation

Stewardship and legacy are the guiding values of the Edythe Bush Foundation, which also assisted us with key advice in our early days. The Edythe Bush Foundation’s visionary leader David Odahowski has been called the “dean of Florida philanthropy.”  We wanted to borrow David’s brain and absorb his decades of wisdom. He was kind enough to cooperate.

The Edythe Bush Foundation has had a huge impact in Winter Park, which is somewhat reminiscent of Delray Beach in terms of scale and charm.

Mr. Odahowski reminded us that we probably won’t solve the many issues facing society, but we can move the needle and make a difference.

That’s good news for nonprofits, those of us who give to charity and those of us who aspire to move the needle in the right direction. Edythe Bush’s tagline is “providing a legacy of leadership” and they have done just that with a variety of investments that have helped make Winter Park, a jewel of a city. One of those newer investments is the foundation’s gleaming headquarters located downtown strategically near Rollins College.

We met inside their new building which is called “The Edythe.” It’s stunning. The Edythe welcomes the community with a variety of activities and offers meeting space to community groups. It’s designed like a theatre, which honors Mrs. Bush who was an actress and dancer. The family’s philanthropy was derived from the success of 3M, a Minnesota based conglomerate.

The foundation is unique because it has a local focus and serves as a convener. Over the past 50 years, Edythe Bush has served close to 900 nonprofit organizations and given over $114 million in grants to alleviate human suffering and help people help themselves, that is a concept that drove our founder, Carl DeSantis.

But what’s also interesting is that the foundation and its leader have served as beacons for the state of Florida. They were instrumental in founding the Florida Philanthropic Network, an organization that enables foundations to learn from each other and leverage their collective knowledge of challenges and opportunities facing Florida. The foundation also works closely with the Florida Chamber Foundation on future goals for the state. We have learned a lot from Edythe Bush and their talented staff.

 

Winter Park Health Foundation

Nearby is the headquarters of the Winter Park Health Foundation, which uses the proceeds from the sale of a hospital to offer programs that promote community health. The Winter Park Health Foundation has created a special space in a park-like setting where people of all ages come for classes, exercise, healthy food and solace from a busy world. I was especially taken by their “Nutrition Theatre” which serves as a learning kitchen where people can come to take classes. It reminded me of the work that Ali Kaufman is doing at the Community Classroom Kitchen in Delray Beach, which we are proud to support.

The Winter Park Health Foundation model is a little different from many other foundations in that they operate their own program. We saw the complexities of this model, but also its potential.

Central Florida Foundation

For 30 years, the Central Florida Foundation has been serving as the “community foundation” for their large and diverse region.

From these experts, we learned the importance of data analysis and the need to look at root causes of community challenges to ensure that philanthropic dollars are spent wisely.

The Foundation also serves as a convener and has found innovative ways to bring the community together around issues and opportunities. Currently, I’m bingeing their podcast “First You Talk” which covers issues including homelessness, housing and health.

What struck us the most was their “Thrive Central Florida” initiative which brings together the collective brainpower, funding and skills needed to address the most pressing challenges facing a region which is growing rapidly. The premise is simple: Central Florida leaders are smarter and more impactful when key players work together.  A good lesson for other regions to emulate.

Armed with this information and passion for our mission, we are so excited about “What’s Possible.” I encourage you to ask and answer that simple, but profound question.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Essential Service…The Essential Relationship

The Delray Beach Police Department has a proud history and has played an enormous role in the city’s success.

I don’t know the nitty gritty details of the contract dispute between the Delray Beach police union and the City of Delray Beach.

I know the basic parameters, but I can’t argue the merits of either side.

But speaking as a longtime resident, I’m rooting for this standoff to end—fairly. For all parties.

The issue must be resolved. Hopefully, soon because real and lasting damage is occurring.

What I am most fearful of is that the fracture goes beyond a contract dispute, as serious and complicated as that may be. What’s at stake is an essential connection. It’s important that a city and its police officers and firefighters have a strong relationship. Ideally that relationship should be built on trust and mutual respect.

Public safety is an essential service.  As such, we need to provide our taxpayers and visitors with top notch police and fire services. Our personal safety and the security of our homes and businesses depend on it. In many ways our economic future depends on public safety as well.

So, this labor issue needs to be resolved. It was comforting to see the fire department’s staffing issues settled, although it came at considerable cost and I am not talking about money.  Allow me to explain.

Every endeavor, at its core, is a human one.

We are emotional beings, and it matters how we speak to each other and about each other.

We want to be seen and we want to be heard. We want to be respected and considered—always.

If disputes linger and get nasty it is hard to put the toothpaste back in the tube. Words and gestures leave a mark. Those words can either build a relationship or cleave it apart.

I’m seeing some real damage being done with statements that won’t be soon forgotten even when a contract is signed.

And the longer this goes on the more we will chip away at departments that we not only count on but can thank for the quality of our community.

I’ve said on many occasions that the men and women who have served and are serving in the Delray Beach Police Department are the unsung heroes of Delray’s renaissance.

The Fire Rescue Department has been invaluable as well.

The quality of these departments, their effectiveness and their professionalism should be a source of civic pride. We have outstanding police and fire services.

Achieving and maintaining that excellence has been a joint effort between those who serve at great risk and the taxpayers who have invested in these departments.  City leadership also plays an essential role.

Supporting our public safety departments is table stakes for a quality community. The men and women who serve depend on mayors, commissioners and city managers to stand by them. They must know that if the going gets rough—and it always does—that leaders have their backs. That doesn’t mean there’s no accountability; it just means that support trumps political expediency. Good leaders take bullets for their people. They stand by them. In good times and in not so good times.

And that means that when things get hot, cooler heads need to prevail. There’s simply too much at stake.

It’s not just about money and benefits although it’s essential to be competitive. It’s also about support and respect.

Those intangible but invaluable assets need to flow both ways. It once did.

It’s going to require a lot to get back to that place. Respect is earned. So is trust. But it’s worth the effort. Failure is not an option here.

I care about the Delray Beach Police Department and Delray Beach Fire Rescue. Over my nearly 40 years here I’ve gotten to know and befriend many officers and firefighters. I admire their dedication, and I respect their commitment to the job and to us as citizens.

Earlier this year, my heart was broken when we lost legendary Officer (and former union President) Vinny Mintus followed by the loss of Fire Chief Kerry Koen, the brilliant architect of modern-day Delray Fire Rescue.

These dedicated and talented public servants loved their city. Hundreds of others past and present have devoted their lives to protecting and serving us. We have been blessed with so many special and talented officers and firefighters and they have made an immense and lasting difference.

So, there is a lot at stake in this dispute. Relationships matter.

Personally, I don’t know what it’s like to go to work in the morning, not knowing what dangers I’ll face or what horrors I might see during the day or night. But I have spent many hours “riding along” with both police and firefighters. I’ve had a glimpse into that world. Enough to be aware and grateful for people willing to do this work for a living.

They do not get rich doing this job. But officers and firefighters deserve lives and retirements that provide dignity and security.

The men and women who work in law enforcement are wired to serve. Firefighters are as well.

They enjoy the camaraderie of working with others who share the mission, and they take pride in running into buildings that others are running out of.

I’ve also been in the shoes of elected officials who have a duty to protect all stakeholders.

We faced an attrition and recruitment issue before in the early 2000s. At that time, we were told by our chiefs— both police and fire —that we were bleeding personnel and that we needed to step up and figure out a solution to stop the attrition and become competitive again.

We did.

It wasn’t cheap and it wasn’t easy. We also suffered the slings and arrows from the armchair experts who thought we were selling out to the unions.

We weren’t.

It wasn’t about generosity; it was about being competitive with our neighboring departments so that we could continue to provide an essential service.

Without public safety, you can’t have a viable city. To provide quality public safety costs money. Lots of money.

To not offer quality public safety costs even more. Businesses leave. Property values plunge, visitors and patrons who support your economy go where they feel safe.

There’s a lot at stake here.

This is where we depend on leaders to find a way forward—together.

The time has come to stop the bleeding and repair this essential relationship. I have faith that will happen because it must.

 

Keep The Cannons Thundering (a nod to Jimmy Buffett)

The historic (and very beautiful) Delray Beach Playhouse has been giving a voice to local playwrights since 2019.

The hardest thing about writing, for me, is facing the blank page- Octavia Spencer. 

I’ve heard various descriptions of the daunting blank page  for as long as I can remember.
But I have a confession to make: I love the blank page. 
I absolutely, positively crave the blank page.
In fact, nothing gives me more satisfaction than staring down that blank page and filling it with words and thoughts. 
Now those thoughts may be well received or they may be despised; it doesn’t matter. The words may land or miss the mark. It doesn’t matter.  Writing gives me joy. 
I’ve written journalism, bad poetry, books, essays, blogs and plays. I’ve written editorials, columns, screenplays and love letters. I’ve enjoyed it all. 
I love the challenge of the blank page. And I think as we get older, we need to find our own “blank page” in life and fill the space with gusto. 
On my way to work this morning, I heard one of my favorite songs– “A Pirate Looks at 40” by Jimmy Buffett.
“The cannons don’t thunder,” he sings. “There’s nothin’ to plunder, I’m an over 40 victim of fate.”
It’s a poignant song, tempered by the knowledge that Jimmy Buffett was not that guy…he kept the cannons thundering until the end. My goodness, how I miss his presence on this Earth.
All of this is to say a heartfelt thanks to the good folks at the Delray Beach Playhouse for giving local playwrights a chance to fill their magnificent stage with our words. 
This past weekend, 12 playwrights and a few dozen local actors and actresses brought 12 short plays to life at the annual Playwrights Festival. It was wonderful. 
Two sell-out houses came to cheer our work. And I have to say there is no better feeling than to hear gifted actors speaking your words while you sit with an audience that is reacting to your work in real time. Talk about adrenaline!
My play was called “Love After Love.”  It’s a love story that takes place just outside the playhouse on a bench overlooking picturesque Lake Ida. 
Diane and I were there one day with our dogs Gracie and Emmitt, when I saw a lonely looking man staring straight ahead. Something about the scene struck me; maybe it was the way he braced himself against the wind, maybe it was the “thousand yard” stare he had as he looked at the water. 
I built a story around that indelible image. 
That’s the magic of theater, you can try to build a world around a simple image. I’m not sure I pulled it off, I’m still learning, but I sure am having fun. 
This is the second year my work was in the festival. Last year, my play “The Cafe on Main” made its debut. It was the first play I wrote and it took all I had to hit send and give it a shot when I saw the call for entries. I encourage all of you to “hit send” and take a shot yourself whether it’s playwriting, poetry, painting or playing in a pickleball tournament. 
I learned a lot from my director last year Marianne Regan and learned some more this year from “Love After Love’s” director Brenda Aulbach. The cast and tech crew taught me as well. 
After last year’s amazing experience, I spent the next several months working on craft, taking a 10-minute play course by Delray’s own Arianna Rose, going to see plays at Theater Lab, reading plays, books about playwriting and listening to podcasts. I also started working with NY playwright Jack Canfora, a wonderful writer/teacher who has a way of making me see things I miss in my own writing and ideas. 
It has been a magnificent journey.
I’m writing at night and early in the morning. In July, my short play “Press Conference” will be performed by a Massachusetts based company on Zoom and in August the same play will be performed on a stage outside Columbus, Ohio as part of a “Brave Voices” festival. 
Inspired by my experience last year, I expanded “The Cafe on Main” into a full length play that will be performed at The Arts Garage, a venue and organization I adore. I’m also working on two additional full length plays that I’m excited about. 
I don’t have any expectations or dreams of glory or riches (there’s not a lot of money in local and regional theater) but I’m having fun. Lots of fun. I picked up this hobby at age 60–so it’s never too late to try new things. My fellow playwrights this year include an actor/filmmaker, a mother of five who somehow finds the time to write and two writers who write laugh out loud comedy–that’s no an easy feat. 
The blank page doesn’t scare me, or them I suppose. But the blank page does represent possibility and promise. We can create new worlds if we try and if we dare to “hit send.”
I began to realize how important it was to be an enthusiast in life. If you are interested in something, no matter what it is, go at it full speed. Embrace it with both arms, hug it, love it and above all become passionate about it. Lukewarm is no good.” – Roald Dahl

 

Good Vibrations

Brian Wilson’s musical vision inspired generations of people who believed in an Endless Summer and the California Dream.

Brian Wilson was a once in a lifetime talent.
The Beach Boys founder and principal songwriter died June 11. He was 82.
My friends and I saw The Beach Boys in March 1982 at the Westbury Music Fair. (Thanks for the date verification Scott, our group historian).
Brian Wilson was there, a rarity for a musician who was loathe to travel and perform at least at that time. Mr. Wilson wanted to his spend his time in the studio creating songs that have stood the test of time.
When I learned of Brian Wilson’s passing, I fired up Spotify in my Delray office and spent the afternoon typing away as hit after hit played. The music swept me away, conjuring images of beaches, sand, surfing and the promise of an endless summer. It was magical.

My musical bliss was interrupted by  a Zoom call with a CEO in the drug discovery business. He was around my age, and we didn’t know each other prior to the call.  But we connected over our mutual love for The Beach Boys.  That’s the power of rock ‘n’ roll.  Good rock n roll anyway.

We didn’t have to say anything. He saw me, I saw him, we realized we were within a few years of each other’s age and we instantly started talking about Brian Wilson’s beautiful music. Good Vibrations indeed.

God Only Knows if we’ll see another songwriter like Brian Wilson. Our generation was blessed with scores of great songwriters, but Brian was at or near the top. Good enough that Paul McCartney felt compelled to answer Pet Sounds with his own masterpiece Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. “We nicked a few ideas” Sir Paul said.

Every generation thinks their era has the best music. But in our case, it was true. The Beatles, The  Stones, The Who, Led Zeppelin, Springsteen, Dylan, Neil Young, U2, Seger, Petty, CCR, Paul Simon, the Byrds, Eagles, Joni, Jackson, Bowie, Elton….the list goes on and on.

Of course, there’s some great new music being released but we experienced a gusher of greatness.
Wouldn’t it Be Nice if we could catch a wave and experience some more Good Vibrations.
Thank you Brian Wilson. Turns out our summers aren’t endless, but they sure are unforgettable and the music lives on.

Here’s what Beach Boys lead singer Mike Love had to say about his cousin and band mate.
“ Today, the world lost a genius, and I lost a cousin by blood and my partner in music.

Brian Wilson wasn’t just the heart of The Beach Boys—he was the soul of our sound. From the first time we sang together as kids in my living room, I knew there was something otherworldly in him. His musical gifts were unmatched. The melodies he dreamed up, the emotions he poured into every note—Brian changed the course of music forever.

Our journey together was filled with moments of brilliance, heartbreak, laughter, complexity and most of all, LOVE . Like all families, we had our ups and downs. But through it all, we never stopped loving each other, and I never stopped being in awe of what he could do when he sat at a piano or his spontaneity in the studio.

Brian’s unique artistry and our collaboration gave the world the American dream of optimism, joy, and a sense of freedom—music that made people feel good, made them believe in an endless summer and endless possibilities. It was one of the greatest blessings of my life to experience that creative space with him.

It was our privilege to make the world believe in sunshine, surfing, and teenage dreams. My life was forever changed by Pet Sounds, God Only Knows, In My Room, Good Vibrations, The Warmth of the Sun and a hundred other pieces of his soul wrapped in music. He allowed us to show the world what vulnerability and brilliance sound like in harmony. He was fragile, he was intense, he was funny—and he was one of a kind.

My wife, Jacquelyne, and I are heartbroken. She stood beside me through so many chapters of this story, and we both send our love and prayers to Brian’s family, his children, and all who were touched by his life and gifts.

Brian, you once asked, “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older?” Now you are timeless. May you rest in the peace you so deeply deserve, surrounded by the heavenly music you helped create. May your spirit soar as high as your falsetto, may your wings spread in effortless flight.

Thank you for the harmonies, the memories, and the love.  Death leaves a heartache no one can heal, Love leaves a memory no one can steal.

I’ll miss you forever, my beloved cousin.
– Mike

Remembering Sonny

Delray Beach lost another contributor June 5 with the passing of Harold “Sonny” Van Arnem.

Mr. Van Arnem was 84.

I’ve known Sonny since the early 90s, and we recently met for lunch a few times to catch up. Sonny was a fascinating guy with a fascinating history in tech, real estate and hospitality. He was always thinking about the future and always looking for innovative ways to make a difference.

Locally, he was active in educational causes and served on the Downtown Development Authority and Chamber Board.  He was very proud of the new Hampton Inn he opened on U.S. 1 which was named for his son Adam.

He was a unique man. I will miss seeing him around town. May he rest in peace.

A Fitting Honor

It was wonderful see a post office in Delray Beach renamed to honor Benjamin Ferencz, a Nuremberg war crimes prosecutor, human rights champion and long-time resident of Kings Point in west Delray.

The post office at 14280 S Military Trail was renamed this month. Mr. Ferencz passed away two years ago at age 103. He was a truly remarkable man.

As a war crimes investigator and a Nuremberg prosecutor, Ferencz witnessed the horrifying effects of Nazi crimes. He became convinced that the world can prevent such atrocities only by outlawing and systematically punishing aggressive war and acts of genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes. He devoted his career to creating an international system of justice that protects everyone’s right to live in peace with dignity.

Mr. Ferencz became a celebrated figure around the world. 60 Minutes featured his work in a memorable segment and he was awarded a Congressional Gold Medal.

On October 30, 2023, U.S. Representative Lois Frankel introduced H.R. 6116, a bill to designate the facility of the U.S. Postal Service located at 14280 South Military Trail in Delray Beach, Florida, as the “Benjamin Berell Ferencz Post Office Building.” The bill was signed by President Biden on January 2, 2025.

 

The Other Washington

I just took a business trip to Washington D.C.

I came back inspired.

Now Washington and inspiration are rarely used in the same sentence these days but I came back full of patriotic fervor—albeit with a dash of melancholy.

First, Washington is a beautiful city.

The office buildings and museums are stunning, the monuments magnificent and the flowers provide an invigorating splash of color this time of year.

It’s fun to walk around and marvel at the sites and to soak up the energy of an important and substantial city.

We took a day trip to Baltimore for a few meetings and the vibe there was decidedly different.

Baltimore is a mystery to me.

It has great “bones” so to speak, row houses, several great universities, a picturesque harbor and a world class hospital. It also suffers from substantial blight, including thousands of abandoned buildings.

Based on its assets, you’d think Baltimore would be thriving, but it struggles. Years after the show ended, it still feels like you’ve arrived on the set of the great HBO series “The Wire.” But hope abides and we visited two amazing foundations hard at work to heal and help Baltimore.

The Annie E. Casey Foundation and the Goldseker Foundation were gracious enough to meet with me and my colleagues at the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation to share their work and best practices. We left energized and educated.

Baltimore has dedicated people who continue to believe. That makes a big difference.

Back in D.C. we met with the wonderful people at the Bainum Family Foundation, the Aspen Institute, the Smithsonian Institution and the National Portrait Gallery to discuss the state of philanthropy, our nation and the possibilities that lie ahead as we gear up to celebrate America’s 250th birthday.

Across town at the Capitol, Congress passed the “big, beautiful bill” at 4 a.m. while we slept. I doubt anyone read all 1,100 pages.

Democrats see the bill as catastrophic. Republicans hailed it as a nation changing (for the better) investment that will lower taxes and increase border security. Two vastly different perspectives that dovetail with the state of our nation these days.

I happened to fly to Washington seated next to my Congresswoman Lois Frankel. It was happenstance. I’ve known Rep. Frankel for a long time. We were mayors together back in the day, Lois in West Palm, me in Delray.

Also, on the plane, surrounded by a phalanx of Secret Service, was Eric Trump. Yes, he flew commercial.

Frankel and Trump—two ends of our national spectrum.

One side believes we are making America great again, the other believes we are in danger of losing our Republic.

Never the twain shall meet, wrote Kipling.  Rudyard’s old poem proves prophetic. We are so different it feels like we can never be brought together again. That saddens me, it ought to sadden all of us.

But when we landed, I saw the Washington Monument, the beauty of the Old Executive Office Building, the grandeur of the White House and the magnificence of the Smithsonian. And briefly my melancholy for a more united United States lifted–for just a moment.

We toured the newly built African American History Museum, toured the National Portrait Gallery and met with the men and women who bring these places to life.

We got insights from the head of the Marriott Family Foundation and the president of the National Center for Family Philanthropy who also happened to be the person who shepherded the “Giving Pledge” which is an effort by the nation’s richest to donate their life’s savings to charity upon their deaths. Not every rich person is an oligarch. But the oligarchs seem to get more attention than those who use their money to help people. It seems in vogue to be all out of empathy these days.

But from these philanthropic experts and historians we heard about innovative ways to impact problems, help those in need and move our nation forward.

All are concerned about our current state of polarization and dysfunction, but all are confident that we will have a brighter future.

On our third day in D.C. I awoke to the news that two young Israeli Embassy employees were murdered outside the Capital Jewish Museum, a few blocks from where we were staying.

The news shocked and saddened me. The two young people were known as “bridge builders.” We can hardly afford to lose those willing to extend a hand across the divide. And so, amidst my pride and hope, in crept a feeling of melancholy. Sometimes it can feel crushing.

But the people I had the privilege of meeting are smart, gentle and empathetic individuals dedicating their lives to the betterment of our world.

They are data driven but lead with heart and compassion— as all leaders should.

They are better than our politics.

The best of us serve. The best of us empower. We build up instead of tear down.

So, I hold on to my optimism about the future despite the headwinds which are substantial and at times seemingly intractable. But I also know that until ‘we the people’ demand more from our politics and our parties (both of them) we will never get to the promised land. We will never reach our potential as a nation.

Division, corruption, money, partisanship, chaos and plain old meanness are in the way of what we can be.

We need more independent leaders and far fewer sycophants who put their wallets and careers above the country’s future.

A visit to Washington reminds me of why I love America. I feel blessed to have been born, raised and educated here (thanks to the sacrifices of my immigrant grandparents).

It’s time to insist on a better path forward. America and its people, the world and its people deserve leaders focused on the future not the next political or financial opportunity.

I saw “the other Washington”. It’s full of wonder and possibilities. It deserves the support of those who currently spend their days fighting.

They are endangering the greatest nation this world has ever seen.

Granger’s Was A Great, Good Place

Granger’s Grille.

Note: This is an early version of the blog. I’m traveling to our nation’s capital next week on business and won’t be at my desk to write and post Monday. I hope you don’t mind the intrusion in your inbox.

 

I’m going to miss Granger’s.

The iconic restaurant on Federal Highway closed its doors last week with a sad sign off on Facebook thanking patrons for their loyalty.

I’d like to thank Granger’s for their grilled cheese, their turkey burgers and their home-made chips—which were unparalleled. Granger’s Grille felt like the Delray version of “Cheers”—a place where everybody knew your name. We need these kinds of places; in fact we crave them.

It was interesting to see the reaction to the surprise announcement. Lots of regulars expressed genuine sadness at the news and lamented the loss of yet another local staple—and a relatively affordable one at that. Across the border in Boca, I watched a similar reaction to the news that Belzers Hardware announced that it was closing after many decades. Locals talked about shopping at Belzers in the 50s.

We feel these losses somewhere deep in our souls. These places are what make us feel that we’re home.

As for me, I’m still mourning the closure of The Annex in Pineapple Grove—but the loss of Granger’s  stings even more.

Granger’s was my “go-to”, an easy answer for lunch, a place where it was easy to park, the wait staff was friendly, and best of all you can always count on finding at least six other friends among the tables.

I was a frequent flier at Granger’s for years—first at their old location near Rex’s Hair Salon (also gone but never forgotten) and later at the new location which was spacious and featured easy and ample parking. I was there at least 1-2 times a week, even during Covid, when they were a great place to pick-up some tasty take-out.

I finally mastered the credit card machine, a considerable accomplishment for a tech luddite such as myself. And while I never made it to rib night, I had planned too. But alas that opportunity has passed unless of course they find a new location and get the band back together. (One can hope).

My friends in the restaurant business tell me times are tough for independent proprietors. Food costs are high, insurance is expensive, the workforce can’t afford to live here and rents are astronomical. There’s also an immense amount of competition. It can’t be easy to fill seats on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, and the summers are long, hot and devoid of snowbirds. It’s hard to know when and if our friends from Canada will return; who can blame them.

But all I know is that places like Granger’s are important.

Life is funny, you never know when your last time doing (fill in the blank) will be. We remember the first times, but we often don’t recognize last times.

My “last time” at Grangers was two weeks ago when I had a chance to have lunch with the legendary Tony Allerton and the soon to be legendary Steve English.

Tony is a long-time friend. He’s a local icon who has literally saved thousands of lives through his work at The Crossroads Club.

Tony is in his 90s now, sharp as a tack and still working.

We share a lot of history and a love for Granger’s, what I call a “great, good place” —a phrase I’m borrowing from Ray Oldenburg.

Mr. Oldenburg is gone now. But he made a great and lasting contribution to our culture. He was an urban sociologist who coined the term “third place” to describe the importance of informal gathering spaces—coffee shops, parks, bookstores, cultural venues and the like.

First place is the home, second place is the workplace, and third places are the anchors of community life where we find connection and community.

They are important civic assets.

Oldenburg’s ideas remain influential, and the best cities embrace his “Third Place” philosophy by encouraging and supporting these gathering spots.

According to experts, there are several characteristics of a third place.

A third place accepts people from all walks of life.

Conversation is the focus.

They are accessible and accommodating.

There are regulars who hang out.

They tend to be low profile.

They are playful, fun and casual.

They are “a home away from home.”

Granger’s ticked most if not all those boxes.

Sadly, third places are declining.

We don’t go to the movies anymore, we don’t join bowling leagues like we used to do and service clubs are struggling to attract young members.

We do play pickleball, so that’s a plus.

Anyway, Grangers was a great, good place. I sure hope they find another location. But if they don’t, I will cherish the memories. I’m already wistful when I drive by….

 

This week, I was honored to eulogize my friend Nancy Stewart-Franczak, who passed away recently. A huge crowd turned out on a rainy night at the Delray Beach Golf Club to pay tribute to a woman who meant so much to so many. Nancy’s loss leaves a huge void in the lives of her husband, her family, her friends, work colleagues and the communities she served with her outstanding special events.

I got several requests to share my remarks so here they are…

 

Delray Beach has lost a true friend.

There are no words to adequately describe what Nancy meant to her family, her friends, her community.

We loved her.

She loved all of us, touched all of us, inspired all of us and led by example.

She was tough and soft. Resilient and loving. Determined and sensitive. She was fun and funny, warm and wise.

She put this town on the map with her vision and grit. She was a force —full of ideas and the rare visionary who not only dreamed big but had the skill to execute on those dreams.

She made so much happen. So much. It’s staggering what she accomplished with a small but powerful team. But she was always humble. Always willing to listen and always open to new things. Nancy never stopped growing. She never stopped learning, and she never stopped dreaming. She set an example for all of us.

 

I’ve had a few days to reflect on my friend Nancy and I’m left with a bunch of emotions: I feel deep sadness over this loss, I’m in awe of her legacy and like you I’m absolutely heartbroken. We were not prepared to let Nancy go… Somehow, we thought that Nancy was indestructible.

But while she is no longer here with us, she will always be with us in spirit. And the seeds she planted, the dreams she realized, will long endure.

She touched so many, so deeply. And I think I know why.

It’s because she was genuine.

In a fast-moving transactional world, our Nancy was real and rooted.

She wore her passion on her sleeve, spoke her mind and loved this place. She loved Delray Beach, even when the powers that be didn’t love her back.

What I’ve seen in the past few weeks is a tremendous outpouring of love from people in this community that Nancy touched. They never went away. They never left her side. Nancy’s community never left her. And she never left our side either. She never stopped taking pride in a community she helped to build.

 

I saw Nancy weather a lot in recent years. Illness.  Pain. Toxic politics.

I debated whether to mention what Nancy and her team at FMG went through relative to the Garlic Fest.

But I think the story is essential to Nancy’s story and a testament to her strength and character.

It’s also a teachable moment. And it has a happy ending because after 9 years, Garlic Festival is coming back. And Nancy knew that. Her pride and joy is coming back to Delray; where she wanted it to be, and where it belongs.

I was mayor when Nancy asked me and Diane, then the CRA Director to travel with her to Gilroy California to show us what a Garlic Festival can mean to a community.

She wanted me to see her vision. She was going to build a festival that gave back to Delray. And she did. Because when Nancy set out to do something it got done.

When the powers that be sent her away, she stood her ground. She told her story. She stood up and spoke truth to power.

It was during this time that we grew closer. Being forced to take Garlic Festival to a new location was hard for Nancy and her team. But they made it work, and the festival grew. But she never gave up on bringing it home.

This is where we saw Nancy’s strength. We saw her faith. Her ability to pivot like all great entrepreneurs and her ability to reinvent and grow her business with other signature events.

She led by example, and she set an example.

When our community learned of Nancy’s passing, we saw a tremendous outpouring of love and respect.

Words like icon, visionary, resilience and kindness were used to describe Nancy.

I can add many: honest, loving, passionate and courageous are just a few  that come to mind. Nancy was something else; she was truly remarkable.

I hope we have learned to appreciate and respect these special people in our midst. That’s the teachable moment.

Cities are cities. It’s the special people who show up, roll up their sleeves and get to work that make them special. It’s people like Nancy who make our hometowns feel like home.

Nancy’s life was devoted to building community, she benefited several cities in the area but none more than Delray.

We need to cherish people like Nancy. The people in this room certainly do. We need to insist that the visionaries in our midst are treated with grace and compassion.  That’s what makes or breaks a village. Nancy knew that. She got up every day and worked hard to strengthen the village. And she succeeded. With kindness, humor and a fierce determination that made her uniquely our Nancy.

I’ll conclude by saying that I felt very close to Nancy. She was easy to talk to; we laughed together and cried a few times too. She was a loyal friend. A trusted confidant and someone I deeply respected. I loved her. We all did.

Her memory will be a blessing to all of us…she’ll live forever in our hearts.

Last week, during a visit to Maine, I had a dream. I dreamt that I was in a storm with winds so strong that bricks were flying.

In the dream, I was dodging the bricks.

When I awoke, I thought about the dream and what it may have meant.

I think I figured it out, I was listening to a song the day before by Willie Nelson, it’s called “It’s Open Season on my Heart.”  There’s a line in the song that I think may have prompted my dream. Here’s the line.

The days go by like flying bricks

Leave gaping holes too deep to fix.

When we reach a certain stage of life, we start to lose people who are essential to us.

Every day the bricks are flying and sometimes they hit us and leave gaping holes too deep to fix.

Losing Nancy leaves a gaping hole to deep to fix. But while the loss hurts, we wouldn’t trade a moment, because the love we’ve experienced transcends the loss.

To Nancy’s husband John, I’m so sorry for your loss. You’ve shared with me your faith that she is with G-d. We wish you peace during this difficult time.

To Nancy’s family. Thank you for sharing Nancy with us. She enriched our lives immensely.

To Nancy’s family at FMG…I know how hard this has been for you. I hope you feel the support of an appreciative community who very much want you to continue Nancy’s remarkable work. We love the FMG team.  And we  love Nancy…

Through the Lens

Lenses and viewpoints

I believe all of us have a unique way of looking at the world.
We possess a personal frame of reference that helps us make sense of the world as we work our work our way through the days of our lives.

I look at the world through three distinct lenses; that of a journalist, a mayor and lately a playwright.
Let me explain.
When I see something new or interesting I think about how I’d report on it (the journalist in me), how I’d approach it or adapt it to my town (if I were a mayor) and lately how I’d dramatize it (my new passion, playwriting).
My friends view the world in their own way.

Some think about how they’d monetize a thought (the entrepreneur), how they’d develop it (a real estate mind) or how they’d market it (a branding guru or salesperson).
Yes, we all have our lenses.

Here’s an example, when I’ve been out with police officers for dinner, I noticed that they look at their surroundings differently. I can see them scan the room. The veterans have a sixth sense honed by years of experience. It’s fascinating to witness.

Recently, I participated in a think tank exercise about the future and I was struck by how one of the participants saw the recent volatility in the stock market.
Personally, all this jumping around has freaked me out a little. Ok, a lot.
I’m not used to checking the futures market before going to bed fearful of what the next day will bring.
Maybe it’s because I’m nearing retirement and getting to an age where I will be relying on investments to see me through the rest of my life. Or maybe it’s because you reach an age when your window for making back your losses shrinks. We know that nothing goes up forever, but it’s hard when the market resembles a Six Flags rollercoaster.
But I digress.
One of the participants in the session seemed resigned and somewhat OK with the loss of value seeing it as a good thing that will force positive changes in America.
While I don’t agree, I was fascinated by this man’s cool and his confidence that this was all meant to be and somehow good.
We see things through different lenses.

I grew up being taught that doctors were to be respected, that vaccines were a scientific blessing that would keep us safe from pathogens and that fluoride in the water would keep my teeth from rotting. I remember lining up in elementary school to drink a foul tasting shot of fluoride in a Dixie Cup. We were told it was good for our teeth and we believed our teachers.
All three of these beliefs-and a whole lot of other things—are being challenged today.

I was raised to believe that public service was a noble calling, that institutions were there to advance the public good and that America stood for truth, justice and equality and against tyranny, oppression and the violation of human rights.
Needless to say some of those ideals are being challenged like never before. Politicians have always lied, but this seems to be a new level. We can’t agree on basic information anymore. It’s a disorienting experience for those of us who have seen a culture where compromise and working together were viewed as a preferred method of doing business.

Some of my friends would take great exception to the above paragraph.

They see a  need for a wholesale and much needed reckoning, a recalibration of our ideals and a new path forward that will get us back on track.
I see us sliding into a pit.

I believe in due process (for everyone), the rule of law and checks and balances.
Different lenses, different outlooks, different and differing realities.
So how does it all reconcile? That’s my question.

Is it possible to stay united and see things so differently? Is it possible to be brothers and sisters and see the world and reality from totally different perspectives?
I don’t know the answer to those questions. But I know they must be answered, our current reality does not seem sustainable.
A guy I know tells me he’s going to home school his children when the time comes. The kids are young now, but he and his wife have no desire to send their children to public schools. They want to design their own curriculum for their kids. That is certainly their right. And I respect that; and the notion that our schools are lacking and in need of reform. But a part of me found it sad because I think public education is part of our genius as a nation and that the socialization that occurs on the playground, in the classroom, the gym and the lunch room are the common glue of experience that binds us together.
Today, we are trapped behind screens, separated from each other by algorithms, drugged by notifications and herded into tribes taught to hate the other tribes.
I get the lenses. What I see, I want to write about and dramatize.
But I sure hope that our lenses are not blinders. I hope they don’t stop of us from pursuing worthwhile goals.  I hope we leave room for peripheral vision and perspectives. I sure hope that we preserve what we used to cherish and celebrate—what we used to call the commons.

A Special Friend, A Special Man

Two great chiefs: Fire Chief Kerry Koen and retired Delray Police Chief Rick Overman.

A few more words about my friend, my teacher Kerry Koen.

Kerry’s funeral was last week at North Creek Presbyterian Church where he was involved for many years.

Kerry was a multi-faceted man. A gifted photographer whose photos of New England made me want to explore that region. He helped me discover a place called Woodstock, Vermont and we talked about the history of New England and its role as the cradle of our Democracy. Kerry was a talented chef, who went to culinary school and made wonderful chili.

He was well-read and had a deep appreciation for history. He would have been an amazing history professor or a wonderful photojournalist.

I spent the week reviewing the email he sent me over the years, each full of wisdom and useful information.

A few years ago, he gave me this quote from Einstein when we met for lunch at Ben’s Deli, a favorite spot of his. It resonated with me then and especially now, in the wake of loss.

“One cannot help but be in awe when he contemplates the mysteries of eternity, of life, of the marvelous structure of reality. It is enough if one tries merely to comprehend a little of this mystery each day. Never lose a holy curiosity. … Don’t stop to marvel.”

Kerry’s funeral service was a beautiful tribute to a great man. Honor Guards from Boca and Delray Fire Rescue were there along with a large contingent of former Delray and current and past Boca city officials.  Kerry was proud to be a part of these municipal all-star teams. He was an MVP on those teams and his legacy will live on.
He took great pride in his public service. Boca City Manager George Brown did a wonderful job describing Kerry’s impact on Boca. I had the honor of speaking about his time in Delray and his impact on me and so many others. I thought I would reprint my remarks here for Kerry’s many friends and for the benefit of those who didn’t meet him but have benefited from his vision and stellar service. I will miss Kerry deeply.

Here are my remarks…

 

In Remembrance of Kerry Koen

We gather today to honor a great man. Kerry Koen was not just a fire chief – he was a builder of communities, a mentor to generations, and a friend whose love and wisdom touched countless lives.

The heaviness in our hearts today speaks to the profound impact Kerry had on each of us. Even though we knew this day was coming, the loss weighs heavy – because great men like Kerry leave spaces that cannot be filled.

Kerry served as Fire Chief for both Delray Beach and Boca Raton, but titles never captured the essence of who he was. At his core, Kerry was a teacher. He taught through his actions, his integrity, and his unwavering commitment to service. Every time someone in our community dials 911, they are benefiting from Kerry’s vision and contributions, though they may never know his name.

Kerry’s intellect was extraordinary. Many have said he was the smartest person they’d ever met when it came to understanding what makes cities work. He saw trends before others did. He thought deeply about challenges and offered solutions that were both pragmatic and visionary. He didn’t just see challenges – he saw possibilities. And he didn’t just raise questions, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work. Kerry Koen was a problem-solver. The best you could ever imagine.

He did all of this without seeking fanfare…and he never stopped serving his community. He never stopped mentoring those of us lucky enough to know him.

But what made Kerry truly special was how he balanced that sharp intellect with an equally powerful heart. He led with love – love for his country, love for his firefighters, love for his cities and especially love for his wife Lynne and his family. In these past few years, as he faced health challenges that would have broken most of us, that love only grew stronger and more evident.

There’s a message from the fire union that captures Kerry’s impact perfectly: “Chief Koen didn’t just lead Delray Beach Fire Rescue, he built it. He laid the foundation for the professional standards we stand on today and gave generations of firefighters the opportunity to wear this badge with pride.”

Indeed. Kerry Koen was an exceptional man and an exceptional public servant.

Kerry wasn’t interested in the small stuff. He wrestled with big ideas, and he inspired us to think… really think about our world and our role in the community.

Kerry wasn’t interested in personal praise. He was interested in making things better – better training, better equipment, better leadership, and a better future for those who answered the call. He gave a voice to firefighters and fought for their safety with unwavering determination.

In leadership, Kerry showed us what calm in a storm looks like. What humility means. What protection of a community requires. He made hard decisions without flinching and never hid when things got tough.

In friendship, Kerry was generous beyond measure. He shared books, articles, and photographs. He invested in people. He ended conversations with “I love you” – not a common sign-off for men of his generation, but Kerry had grown even softer and more sensitive as he aged, navigating his health challenges with remarkable grace.

Hours before he left this world, Kerry sat with friends at his bedside. I was one of those friends. He calmly told us he was dying. We shared stories, looked at memorabilia, and marveled at the breadth of his life. He was present with us the whole time – one last gift, one final lesson in life, service, and love. When we left, Kerry told us he would see us on the other side. He said I love you, one last time. We said we loved him too….

Kerry and I shared a special bond. I can’t quite put it into words, but what we shared was special. It was precious. Every time we spoke, and we spoke often, he taught me something. He showed me something I didn’t see. Every time…he was my great teacher and his influence on me and others can’t be quantified. He touched so many of us.

To Lynne, his beloved wife and partner on this journey – our hearts are with you, your daughter, grandson and son-in-law.  What a team you two have been. How fortunate we are to know you and to love you. My friend Kerry never failed to tell me how lucky he was to have found Lynne; how he viewed her as a remarkable partner who helped him achieve his dreams in every aspect of life….

We throw the word “greatness” around too easily these days. But Kerry Koen was the real deal. He was truly great – not because of titles or achievements, but because of how deeply he cared, how wisely he led, and how generously he loved.

Some people come into our lives, and words simply cannot adequately describe their impact. Kerry was one of those rare souls.

The great ones leave their marks on our hearts and minds. If we are lucky, they arrive in our lives and communities, and if we are smart, we listen, learn, and appreciate them.

Many of us did just that with Kerry. We listened. We learned. And we are forever grateful.

As the fire union so perfectly said: “We’ve lost more than a former chief; we’ve lost a pillar of our department and community. But his legacy lives in every firehouse, in every crew, and in every firefighter who still strives to live up to the standard he set.”

Rest easy, Chief Koen. We’ll take it from here.

Good Bones

Good Bones, the book.

Good Bones

By Maggie Smith

Life is short, though I keep this from my children.

Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine

in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,

a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways

I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least

fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative

estimate, though I keep this from my children.

For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.

For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,

sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world

is at least half terrible, and for every kind

stranger, there is one who would break you,

though I keep this from my children. I am trying

to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,

walking you through a real s#&*@hole, chirps on

about good bones: This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful.

 

I discovered this poem last week while listening to a podcast interview with writer/poet Maggie Smith.

As usual, I’m late to the party. “Good Bones” became a viral sensation in 2017.  Somehow, I missed it.

But now that I’ve found it, I find myself going back to the poem and reading it again and again.

Good writing impacts us in a special way, if we slow down and take the time to read, absorb, and think.

I’m not a big fan of poetry, although I love song lyrics and consider the best songwriters to be poets.

Still, I love words, and good writing has a way of helping me make sense of the world. As someone who writes—a lot—I long for the times that I can get into what they call “flow” state.

Flow isn’t something you can summon; it just happens—rarely for me — but it’s a real thing. In between flow states you rely on craft, the muscles you’ve developed by writing for years and years.

I’m in awe of great writers because I know how hard it is to write at a level that moves hearts and minds. I am not a great writer, but I aspire to be. And I write in the hope that someday I will experience—even for a moment– what it must feel like to write like Maggie Smith or Maya Angelou or my new writing crush Chisa Hutchinson.

The Good Bones touched me because I’m distressed by the state of our union and our world. Division is no bueno. No good ever comes from hatred, recrimination and callousness.

The Good Bones reminds us of what sustains us amidst the chaos and horror and relentless crazy of this time.

Here’s a list:

Connection and friendship.

Moments of respite when we can recharge and renew.

Creativity, kindness, kinship and care.

Beauty, generosity, excellence and meaning.

It also reminds us that we have a role to play. We are not just passive actors that allow things to happen to us, we are people who have the power to shape our destinies and determine our destination. We are called to bring beauty into this world.

“This place could be beautiful,

right? You could make this place beautiful.”

Indeed, we can.

Last week, my colleagues and I spent some time with the CEO of a nonprofit called FLIPANY.

Flipany provides nutritious food to thousands of people in South Florida every day. They serve 130 plus sites over a vast region with lots of needs. It’s a logistical miracle pulled off every day.

I find beauty in that story of grit and determination. The founder started with one site serving 40 children and grew the organization into a trusted partner for schools, camps, churches, community centers, senior citizen facilities etc.

She’s tough as nails. Resourceful too. But there’s a beauty to her work, she brings love and sustenance into the world.

I was glad she made the trip from Dania Beach to Delray Beach to spend some time….

So why is it important to seek out beauty.? Why should we remember “good bones” and seek to understand what it means?

Maybe, it’s too remind us who we’ve been; to remind us that those good bones are still somewhere in our DNA. So, we are reminded of what beauty and goodness look like, so that when it shows up in our world, we can see it.

We have good bones in America. We have good bones in this community. We should strive not to break those bones. We should strive to make this world beautiful.

 

 

 

 

Kerry Koen: Teacher, Mentor, Leader

Chief Kerry Koen was an innovator. He built our modern day fire department in Delray and also led Boca Fire.

We lost a great man last week.

And the loss weighs heavy.

Even though we knew it was coming… the loss weighs heavy.

Former Delray Beach and. Boca Raton Fire Chief Kerry Koen passed away April 11. This is a tremendous loss for the thousands of people whose lives were directly impacted by Kerry and for the communities that benefited from his vision, courage, intellect and care.

Every time someone dials 911 in our community they benefit from Kerry’s  contributions and ideas.

At heart, Kerry Koen was a teacher. He was also a protector and a public servant whose body of work made our hometowns safer for all.

**************

Four of us went to see Kerry a few hours before he left this world and we were grateful to have one last memorable conversation  with a man who has occupied a big piece of our hearts for a long time now.

We sat bedside and he calmly told us he was dying. And when we left he said he would see us on the other side. He said he loved us and we said we loved and respected him.

In between, we shared stories, looked at his memorabilia and marveled at the breadth of his life and the strength he has exhibited through a series of health crises these past two years.

He was with us the whole time. It was a last gift, a last lesson in life, service and love.

To the end, our friend Kerry was involved in the communities that he loved–Boca Raton and Delray Beach. He sat with mayors and city managers, mentored fire chiefs and those climbing the ranks and worked hard to find a way to keep our cities on track. He told me he wanted to be relevant. And he was, until his last breath and now beyond because Kerry Koen’s accomplishments, lessons and example will inform leaders for years to come.

**************

We throw the word greatness around with abandon these days.

But Kerry Koen was the real deal. He was a great man. A great fire chief.

Some people come along in our lives and words just can’t adequately describe the impact they make on our world.

Kerry Koen was one of those men.

In the past few days, I’ve heard from firefighters, business and civic leaders and friends of Kerry who were touched in deep, lasting and profound ways just by having known him.

I’ve known Kerry for about three decades. He became a teacher, mentor, friend and sounding board.

We spoke frequently and toward the end we ended our conversations with “I love you’s.”

That’s not a common sign off for guys.

But Kerry, who always led with his heart, had grown even softer and more sensitive as he aged and as he gracefully navigated a series of health issues that would have leveled another man.

We saw his strength. We saw his resolve. We saw his fighting spirit and we saw his soft side as well.

It was all a gift. Kerry Koen was a gift. They don’t make them like this anymore and we are worse off as a result.

While Kerry led with love; love for his country, love for his firefighters, love for his cities, he also led with a sharp intellect.

He was well read. He was a deep thinker and someone who saw trends before anyone else.

He was the smartest person I’ve ever met when it comes to understanding what makes cities work. He saw the big picture and shared his knowledge generously. If you were smart enough to listen you got a master class every time you spoke with him. Every single time.

He loaned me books and articles. Showed me photos that he took and those that he loved. He invested in me as a friend and as someone active in the community. We worked well together when I was on the City Commission. But we grew closer after I left.

I loved him.

The great ones leave their marks on our hearts and our minds. If we are lucky they arrive in our lives and in our communities and if we are smart we listen, learn and appreciate.

I did.

I listened. I learned. And I’m thankful for it all. I’m not alone. Kerry touched so many of us in just this way. I’m thinking of those people too today, because I know losing Kerry weighs heavily on their hearts.

And I’m thinking about his lovely wife Lynne as well. Lynne is so very strong. So kind. So loving. What a team these two have been. How lucky we are to know them and to love them.

*********

I wanted to share the message shared by our fire union. I thought it was perfect. Here it is.

With heavy hearts, IAFF Local 1842 honors the life and legacy of retired Fire Chief Kerry B. Koen, one of the most influential and respected leaders our department has ever known.

 

Chief Koen didn’t just lead Delray Beach Fire Rescue, he built it.  He laid the foundation for the professional standards we stand on today and gave generations of firefighters the opportunity to wear this badge with pride.  For many of us, he was the one who gave us our chance to serve.  That kind of belief changes lives, and it changed many of ours.  He taught us what service truly meant—not just responding to calls, but showing up for your crew, your city, and your values, day in and day out.

 

He wasn’t interested in politics or personal praise.  He was interested in making things better…better training, better equipment, better leadership, and a better future for those who answered the call.  He gave a voice to firefighters and fought for our safety.

 

Chief Koen led with heart and backbone.  He didn’t flinch in the face of hard decisions, and he didn’t hide when things got tough.  He showed us what real leadership looks like: calm in the storm, humble in success, and relentless when it came to protecting both his firefighters and his community.

 

We’ve lost more than a former chief, we’ve lost a pillar of our department and community. But his legacy lives in every firehouse, in every crew, and in every firefighter who still strives to live up to the standard he set.

 

Rest easy, Chief. We’ll take it from here.

Honoring Perry

The City of Delray Beach gave much deserved recognition to Delray Citizens for Delray Beach Police founder Perry DonFrancisco last week.

Perry, who ran the police support organization as a labor of love for four decades, recently stepped down and handed the reins to the very capable Chuck Halberg. He leaves behind a long legacy of caring for the men and women of the Delray Beach Police Department and the broader community as well.

I’ve written extensively of my admiration for Perry in the past, but I couldn’t let the occasion pass without saying that people like Perry are rare finds in life. He’s been Delray Beach’s best friend—there in every season, through every storm, a beacon of decency, civility, grace and kindness. He has worked a whole lot of behind-the-scenes magic over the years, quietly solving problems, mediating disputes, providing invaluable guidance and leading by example.

Whether you know the man or not, please trust me when I tell you that if you live, work or play in Delray, you have benefited from his hard work and steady presence.

Perry Don Francisco is the definition of a great man and a great citizen.