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Lessons in Lift, Lessons in Leadership

Lift Orlando provides actionable lessons for other communities seeking lasting and meaningful change.

A few weeks ago, I told you about a business trip we took to Central Florida.

We were there to check out other foundations on what we call a “What’s Possible Tour.” The trips are designed to expose us to different types of thinking and models that we may customize and bring home with us.

While in the Orlando area, we visited a number of successful philanthropies and a few innovative programs.

In a trip full of stand-out experiences our visit to Lift Orlando stood out.

Lift is part of the “Purpose Built Communities” movement, an effort to lift distressed communities and help them meet the hopes and dreams of their residents.

The Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation recently invested in a “Purpose Built Community” in West Palm Beach called Northend Rise. We are bullish about the future of the Coleman Park neighborhood and believe strongly in the formula honed by Purpose Built Communities. What I like most about their model is that the needs, hopes and aspirations of residents come first; frankly it’s the only way you can be successful.

So, we visited Lift Orlando armed with excitement to see what we can learn from a community that has been hard at work since 2013.

What we saw was remarkable.

Unfortunately, when we visited, the president of Lift Orlando, Eddy Moratin, was on vacation. His talented team took great care of us, but everywhere we went in Central Florida people were talking about Eddy. I wanted to meet him.

Recently, we made it happen, via Zoom.

It was worth the wait.

Eddy is a dynamic, energetic leader willing and eager to share his insights. He’s one of those guys who has an intangible quality—yes he’s charismatic, passionate and smart. But there’s something else too. He has what our founder Mr. DeSantis called the “it” factor. In short, he’s a leader.

Anyway, the Lift Orlando experience contains lessons for communities trying to achieve lasting and sustainable change in neighborhoods that have been plagued by neglect, crime, blight and bad health outcomes.

On our Zoom call, we reviewed five takeaways Eddy learned from his Lift experience. I thought I’d share.

Take it away Eddy…

Eddy Moratin

“After $100M in Community Building Investments, here’s “Five Things I’ve Learned About Community Leadership.

Twelve years ago, we set out to do something that felt impossible:

Build a movement of business leaders and residents working together to create generational cycles of prosperity in neighborhoods.

Fast forward more than a decade…

  • Hundreds of safe, beautiful homes built.
  • Jobs created.
  • Children educated and given scholarships
  • A proud community celebrated

It’s been an incredible journey—and one that’s taught me countless lessons about what it takes to make lasting difference.

But perhaps the most important realization?

The best way to multiply our impact is by helping others do the same.

  1. Doing the Impossible Is Often Easier Than Doing the Reasonable

Big, bold visions are magnetic.

People want to believe in something transformative.

But trying to get buy-in for “good enough” ideas? That’s where the real resistance lies.

 

  1. The World Is Malleable When You Have a Clear and Compelling Vision

People don’t follow spreadsheets, they follow stories.

Cast a vision so clear and hopeful that it feels inevitable, and back it up with the spreadsheets.

You’ll find that moving mountains is easier than you thought, with the right partners.

 

  1. Everyone Talks About Collaboration—But We Don’t All Mean the Same Thing

True collaboration requires shared sacrifice for there to be shared wins and shared credit.

The most successful partnerships come from clarity and humility-not convenience.

 

  1. Caring More About Impact Than Credit Can Be a Superpower

 The less you focus on getting the credit, the more trust you’ll earn.

The more clearly you’ll see the path.

The more opportunities you’ll attract.

And the more lasting change you’ll create.

 

  1. Your Greatest Influence Comes From Your Hardest Lessons

It’s the missteps, the failures, and the moments of doubt that shape the wisdom others need most.

Don’t hide them—share them. That’s how we help others do more, better, faster.”

 

It’s me again, I’m back.

Isn’t that great?! Thanks Eddy!

When we toured the many triumphs of Lift Orlando, I couldn’t help but think about my leadership experience in Delray.

In the early 2000s, we created a bold, transformational vision for our downtown. We called it Downtown Master Plan.

The plan was a success, because we invited the community to the table and they showed up in record numbers. It was the most gratifying policy experience of my brief career in local politics.

One of the animating ideas of the process was the redefinition of the boundaries of our downtown. Traditionally, East Atlantic Avenue from Swinton to A1A was thought of as the downtown. But the master plan expanded those boundaries to  include West Atlantic Avenue and a few blocks north and south of the Avenue, all the way to I-95.

It was a simple but important distinction. We were seeking to erase the invisible dividing line in Delray. We were trying to achieve what we called “community unity.”

We invested in sidewalks, decorative lighting and landscaping all the way to the interstate. And we added a “welcome” feature at the I-95 exchange to signal to everyone that you were entering  a special place. That’s the entrance feature you see today, which if you slow down, depicts the rich history of Delray Beach and the diverse cultures that shaped our community.

There was also an investment in trying to restore some vibrancy to Northwest and Southwest 5th Avenue, a traditional hub of commerce.

An artist worked with the community on sidewalk art, the historic La France Hotel was redeveloped into senior housing and there was city support for a grassroots effort to create the S.D. Spady Museum. We also saw the first significant private investment in the corridor—the Atlantic Grove development—which today is home to offices, housing and great restaurants like Ziree. That development was led by a private sector developer, New Urban Communities, and two local nonprofits that shared financially in the success of the project.

Running parallel to the master plan was an effort called the “southwest plan”, a grassroots effort by neighbors to revitalize the southwest neighborhood located south of West Atlantic. That effort yielded a plan that led to the creation of The Village Academy, the first new school to open in the neighborhood in decades. Later, that plan would be updated into the Set Transformation Plan, another grassroots effort to revitalize neighborhoods north and south of West Atlantic. Tens of millions of dollars were invested in neglected neighborhoods, building sidewalks, paving dirt roads and investing in projects to improve water pressure. A new splash park was built and named after the first female mayor of Delray, Catherine Strong.

I was reminded of those days when we toured Lift Orlando. When the tour was over, we spent time with Lift’s Board, staff and area residents. At that time, I shared that what I saw in Orlando reminded me of what I failed to see in Delray when I was involved as a commissioner and mayor.

We really were making progress. We had a great CRA, a committed city staff, residents who were engaged and a supportive business community and so I thought that momentum would continue. I was wrong.

Things change. Elected officials come and go. Key staff, come and go. The CRA, once independent and focused, was taken over by the commission which has a big enough job looking at the whole city meaning that the independent, somewhat apolitical focus of a volunteer board gets replaced by elected officials, who are naturally concerned with politics.

Our unity, once rock solid, developed cracks and then fissures.

The Set Transformation Plan became embroiled in politics, a great many items in the downtown master plan and southwest plan got done, but those efforts were never replaced with a new plan.

My great lesson as an elected official was the work of building community, nurturing a city, is never done. You can never declare victory, you must wake up a little scared and constantly take stock of your strengths, weaknesses, opportunities and threats. Complacency is a killer, so is division.

I missed all that and thought the efforts would keep going. I shared with my Lift Orlando friends my hard learned lesson, and I commended them for seeing what I missed.

Lift built an infrastructure and a model that moves them forward regardless of the politics. They move forward whether friends or enemies or those who simply don’t engage are in office. They have relationships with funders, donors, business leaders that are long term and rock solid.

They understand that success is a game of addition and so they add new friends along the way.

I never had a sustainability plan, neither did my colleagues, we just had assumptions that things would go on.

I am not one for regrets, I find it a useless emotion. But I do like to learn from mistakes and see if there is a way to apply those lessons to what I’m doing today.

So as we invest in purpose-built communities and root for those good people trying to lift up Coleman Park, I will see these efforts through the lens of experience. And I will ask those we invest in to think about a time when support wavers. It’s hard enough to make change when everyone is rowing in the same direction, but it’s very hard when the pillars you rely on fray or crumble. You have to think about what you’ll do when, not if, that happens.

Community building is like a retirement portfolio–you must diversify.

 

Trust vs. Dominance

Trust vs. dominance.
That’s the battle we’re in.
I’ve been thinking about the world through this prism lately particularly when it comes to leadership.
Personally, I’ve always been a believer in the trust model of leadership. Transformation becomes possible if you can earn trust.
Trust is the currency.  The gold standard.

Trust is the end result of an investment in a relationship.
It takes time, there’s will be up and downs, but if you can get there the rewards are infinite.
The All America City era Delray Beach was  built on trust.
And trust needs to be built brick by brick. So the process is important too. It requires an investment of time.
Time.
Now there’s a concept.

Today’s world teaches us to be impatient.

We want instant results, therefore we’re often unwilling or unable to commit to a process that does not offer immediate rewards or guarantees.
But if you choose trust over dominance there are no shortcuts.  You have to put in the time. You have to take the risk.

Trust is fragile, it depends on people showing up, it depends on institutions living up to their promises, and it depends on citizens doing their part by getting and staying engaged.

The matriarchs and patriarchs of our Black community called it “the covenant”—you either lived up to it or you didn’t. The best leaders strived to honor the covenant, to keep their promises and follow through on plans co-created by leadership and citizens.
The worst “leaders” we’ve had abused that trust. Invariably they failed. It’s a guaranteed way to lose.
And those who violate the covenant harm us all. For every breach, for every broken promise, the price gets higher and higher. It gets harder and harder to rebuild trust.
What results is cynicism.
Cynicism is hard to overcome.

Sadly, we live in a cynical age. It is the highest tax in the land.
Other “leaders” bypass trust altogether and go straight for the exercise of raw power.
Dominance seems to be the “style” of the moment. Pick a team, stick with the team (no matter what) and double down on mean. If you have an advantage press it, if your opponent is down kick them, and if you are caught in a lie never admit you were wrong and question why anyone would ever dare question you.

What results is a bullying model in which those charged with serving us turn the tables and demand that we serve them, or else.
Granted, you can achieve short term results via this method. But you don’t get buy in, you don’t get the benefit of all the people, only those on your team. This model also creates followers not leaders so those benefits are minimal.
I don’t think this is a sustainable model.
But dominance is having a moment, there’s no doubt.
Dominance is also exacting a price, because bullying leave scars. You may get some results by breaking dishes, but you create a mess too, with some sharp edges to clean up.
I’m hopeful that we can get back to a trust based model of leadership, where consensus building, compromise and talking to others who don’t share our views is the way forward.
It’s a move toward unity—knowing we will never quite achieve it but believing it’s worth the effort to be inclusive.
It’s also a move toward community, a move toward a more perfect union, a kinder and gentler place where empathy, trust and freedom of expression are cherished, appreciated and protected. A place where we feel safe from bullies. And when they show up, we send them packing.

Good Trouble…

“Do not get lost in a sea of despair,” John Lewis tweeted almost exactly a year before his death. “Do not become bitter or hostile. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble. We will find a way to make a way out of no way.”

We recently marked the fifth anniversary of Congressman  Lewis’ death from pancreatic cancer at the age of 80.
Rep. Lewis, a civil rights icon, was famous for urging people to get in what he called “good trouble.”
I watched his funeral from a bed in Bethesda Hospital where I was fighting for my life after contracting Covid. That was bad trouble.  But I remember being inspired by the words of those mourning a great man.
It’s been an impactful five years for all of us.
We’ve experienced a pandemic, J6, rampant inflation, market volatility, war, natural disasters in places we thought were relatively safe (western North Carolina), toxic politics not seen in our lifetimes and divisions in our society that were once unimaginable.
We’ve been through a lot.
I have a feeling that we’re not done—there are more shoes to drop, more hits to absorb, more opportunities to tear at the seams of what used to bind us.
I also have a sense that a great many people are sick and tired of the nonsense and anxious to get to a place where we can stop fighting and get about the business of living. We inherited a wonderful country built by generations who moved mountains, who strived to create a more perfect union. To tear it apart is sinful. To those who say we are fixing things, consider this: if half the country feels left out, ignored, bullied and hated we aren’t fixing anything. The answers do not exist on either extreme, the way forward is together and that requires compromise, tolerance and bipartisanship. Both parties have failed us. We, the people, deserve better.
I’m just back from a few weeks in Maine. 
I love my time off the treadmill, its restorative, relaxing and grounding. 
The beauty of New England is stunning. There are rocky coastlines, lush woods, mountains, streams, waterfalls and flowers everywhere. 
There’s also history, culture, walkable little towns and architecture that feels very much like America. 
I feel rooted there.  I’m a native New Yorker who has spent nearly 40 years in South Florida but for some inexplicable reason I feel at home when I’m wandering around New England. 
I’m “from away” and therefore will never be considered a Mainer.
I’m OK with that.
When I’m there I want to be respectful of my surroundings. I’m here to experience a special place. I’m here to respect and appreciate it. 
I felt the same way about Florida when I arrived on July  27 1987, a year out of school and just getting started in life. 
I came to South Florida to appreciate and enjoy a place I saw as affordable paradise at the time. Coming from the gray skies of upstate NY where I went to school and got my first newspaper job to The Sunshine State was like waking up from a black and white world to a world of bright colors. 
Florida was warm, fresh, the skies were brilliant, the ocean awesome and the palm trees were inviting. I had entered a world of tropical beauty. It just felt surreal to me, in all the good ways. Life here felt limitless, relaxed and easy. 
When I stumbled upon Delray it called to me. 
It also felt like home. 
In the late 80s, the village was more than a little scruffy. The beach was beautiful, the downtown was dead, but there was a downtown and there were some very rough neighborhoods. But there was potential and the vibe felt like something significant and cool was about to happen.
There was also an inclusive feeling in the air, a message of “roll up your sleeves, get involved, we want you to be involved” aimed at everyone willing. 
I fell. 
Hook, line and sinker. 
I was a newspaper reporter in those days. My job was to tell the story of my new home. And I relished every moment. There was so much to tell, so much going on, the place was brimming with aspiration and the message was let’s make some “good trouble.”
And lots of people did. 
They came from Pittsburgh and created festivals. 
They came from Illinois and built a modern day fire rescue system. 
They came from Orlando and helped to build a police department second to none and they came from Belle Glade and replaced blight with art, culture and community. 
I watched another native Illinoisan become a model mayor, saw a rebel looking kid from Indiana redefine the ocean front real estate market and guys from Maryland, Massachusetts and Michigan create value in neighborhoods nobody else would touch. 
It was magical to watch and write about. 
It was impossible not to get involved and swept up in the evolving story of this place. 
A generation was making good trouble…not all of it was perfect, maybe none of it was, but it was something to behold. And cherish. 
It’s more than placemaking, it’s making a place. 
I miss those days. For my town and my country. I know I’m not alone. 

For Frances, With Love

Frances Bourque: one of a kind.

We lost Frances Bourque July 15.

The loss wasn’t unexpected, but when the news came it hit hard. Sledgehammer hard.

There’s  never enough time with the people we love, we want them around forever.

People around Delray know the highlights of Frances’ wonderful life—founder of Old School Square, key figure in the redevelopment of Delray Beach after blight, vacancy and crime took root in our now thriving downtown.

I’m sure the avenue will buzz with activity in the coming days but it wasn’t always so. Many of the patrons probably never heard of Frances Bourque and maybe Atlantic Avenue and Delray itself would have been saved without her someday, someway.

Or maybe not, many towns never get it right. But our town did, and largely because of Frances’ vision, drive and relentless pursuit to restore three old dilapidated buildings at the corner of Atlantic and Swinton.

Thank G-d for Frances.

She will be remembered as a local icon, but I will remember Frances for more than her civic resume.  She was, and will always be, a special person in my life, a second mom in many ways after my mother passed young, someone I could confide in, someone I could always count on for guidance and perspective.

The remarkable thing about Frances is that she served that role for so, so many.  We were all blessed to have her in our lives and frankly it’s hard to imagine what life will be like without her text messages, phone calls, infectious laugh and encouragement. A kind word from Frances had a way of washing away whatever was ailing you.

I will miss her terribly.

But I will always remember the moments and I will cling to the many lessons she imparted for the rest of my days.

All of us who loved Frances will do the same.

The weekend we all spent celebrating Frances and her wonderful husband Dr. Bob in Crescent Beach, the enthusiasm in which she shared her favorite spots in Maine after we bought a place in Portland and the fact she made it to the Delray Playhouse a few weeks ago to see a short play I wrote even though she felt tired and weak. It was the last time I saw her.

Her last words to me: “I love you.”

My last words to her were the same exact three word phrase that makes our crazy world bearable. People like Frances enrich us beyond measure. Hold them close. Tell them how you feel.

While my heart feels heavy, today I want to celebrate a life that transformed our community and touched countless hearts. For me, for her friends and family,  Frances was more than the founder of Old School Square—she was our mentor, our inspiration, and our muse. She was the embodiment of graceful leadership, unwavering vision, and boundless kindness.

I’ve often said that if we lived in a kind place, there would be a statue to Frances on the grounds she saved 32 years ago. Not that Frances would want that—she was far too humble—but her friends would, because we want future generations to know about this wonderful woman who looked at a collection of dilapidated buildings behind a rusted chain link fence and saw so much more.

Frances didn’t just see potential; she saw possibility. She saw culture where others saw decay. She saw community where others saw blight. She saw hope where others saw only problems. That vision—that extraordinary ability to see what could be rather than what was—changed Delray Beach forever.

When I think about Frances, I think about seeds. That’s what she spent her life doing—she planted seeds. And everywhere you look in Delray Beach today, you can see those seeds blossoming. Old School Square alumni are giving back throughout our community—volunteering for the Achievement Center, leading at the Chamber of Commerce, serving on the Business Development Board of Palm Beach County, giving their time, their talent, and their treasure to good causes. Frances planted those seeds of service and civic engagement.

But Frances taught us something even more important than vision or community building. She taught us about grace under pressure. When faced with challenges that would have broken lesser spirits, Frances remained steadfast. When critics questioned her work or when politics threatened and ultimately tried to wash away what she had built, she never lost her composure or her conviction. She understood that true leadership isn’t about commanding from the front—it’s about inspiring others to find their own greatness. And let me tell you, those who came for her work didn’t erase a thing.  No, her legacy endures. There’s a gaping hole that yearns to be filled, but the magic she created can be found in the hearts she nurtured for decades.  Oh how she touched our hearts.

A few years ago, I had the privilege of working with Frances’s sister and others to nominate Frances for a statewide award from the University of Florida, honoring Floridians for “exceptional achievement, impact, and leadership.” When Frances won— we weren’t surprised, though she was—the first thing she did was credit others. “No MAN (or WOMAN) is an island,” she wrote in an email. “This recognition belongs to ALL of us!”

That was Frances. Always deflecting praise, always sharing credit, always lifting others up. She made everyone around her better, and she did it with such grace that you barely noticed it happening until you looked back and realized how much you had grown under her influence.

Frances, you were our teacher in ways you probably never realized. You taught us that public service isn’t about personal glory—it’s about leaving something better than you found it. You taught us that vision without execution is just dreaming, but execution without vision is just busy work. You taught us that kindness isn’t weakness; it’s the strongest force we have for building something lasting. Let that sink in. Kindness is the strongest force we have for building something that lasts.

But kindness isn’t bullet proof. It doesn’t protect you from bad decisions. It doesn’t offer us immunity from disease.  It should, but it doesn’t.  We learned that too.

I haven’t been to Old School Square in a while.

Frances’ dream.

The brilliance of her vision is that the project addressed the past, the present and the future. Hard to find something that touches on history, enriches our present and speaks to what’s to come.

It worked because it was community run…that was the magic. Someday someone will realize that and bring the community back to their cultural center.  And when it happens, and it will, we will remember Frances’ heart and vision.  She is not done teaching us, not by a long shot.

For me, Old School Square was home. It’s where I got married, it was where my kids took classes and it’s where we spent evenings with friends listening to music under the stars.  I’m not alone. So many had that experience  because Frances created a place where community could flourish, where arts could thrive, where people from all walks of life could come together and discover what we share rather than what divides us.

We needed it then, we need it even more now.

Old School Square became more than Delray Beach’s version of Central Park. It became our heart. It’s where we gathered after the Parkland shooting.  It’s where we gathered after 9/11. It’s where the Olympic torch came in 1996. Frances understood that a community needs a place to gather, to grieve, to celebrate, to hope.

Frances, you once said that recognition belongs to all of us, but today I need to say this: while you shared the credit, the vision was yours. The determination was yours. The grace was yours. The love you poured into this community was yours, and it has multiplied beyond anything we could have imagined.

You showed us that one person with a clear vision and an unshakeable commitment to community can indeed change the world—or at least change our little corner of it. You proved that leadership isn’t about having all the answers; it’s about asking the right questions and inspiring others to help find the solutions.

To Frances’s family, please know that she didn’t just leave behind a civic legacy. She left behind a way of thinking, a way of leading, a way of loving a community so deeply that you’re willing to fight for its soul. She left behind hundreds of people who are better leaders, better neighbors, and better human beings because they had the privilege of learning from her example.

Frances, you made me so proud to call you my friend and mentor. You taught me that when we become silent about things that matter, our lives begin to end—but when we speak up for what we believe in, when we work together, when we plant seeds of hope and nurture them with dedication, we can create something beautiful that will outlast us all.

Your legacy isn’t just in the buildings you saved or the programs you created. Your legacy lives in every person you inspired to be better, to do more, to see beyond what is to what could be. Your legacy lives in every act of graceful leadership, every moment of kind mentorship, every vision turned into reality by someone who learned from your example.

Rest in peace, dear Frances. Thank you for showing us what it means to plant seeds of hope and tend them with love. Thank you for being our hero, our inspiration, and our guide. The garden you planted will bloom for generations to come.


“No man (or woman) is an island. This recognition belongs to ALL of us!”
— Frances Bourque

I also want to send my condolences to the family and friends of State Rep. Joe Casello who recently passed.

Rep. Casello dedicated his life to public service first as a firefighter, later as a Boynton Beach commissioner and then in the state house. He leaves a legacy of fighting for public safety and a slew of good causes.

He touched many lives. May he rest in peace.

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.

The Best of Us

Bound for College Founder Mark Sauer seen here with super volunteer Chuck Halberg.

In honor of Memorial Day: “Our debt to the heroic men and valiant women in the service of our country can never be repaid. They have earned our undying gratitude. America will never forget their sacrifices.” – President Harry S. Truman

I was sitting at the bar at the Hay-Adams Hotel in Washington when I got the news.

My friend, Mark Sauer had passed away.
I was in Washington on a business trip and stopped into the historic Off the Record bar to relax after several days of nonstop meetings when I got the news that literally took my breath away.
Mark was not only a friend, he was an inspiration and a personal hero of mine.
I got to know Mark when he founded Delray Students First which later became Bound for College.
The nonprofit is changing the lives of local students who without the help of Mark and the organization would never be able to go college. Many are the first in their families to get a higher education.
This effort is changing lives. This effort is saving lives and this effort is breaking the cycle of poverty. And it’s all because of Mark Sauer’s passionate and relentless work on behalf of young people who became his life.
He brought love, energy, ideas, grit, resilience and intellect to the cause. Mark’s dedication attracted a legion of donors, volunteers, tutors and students to the mission. Mark sparked a movement; losing him is simply devastating and beyond words.
Over the years, Mark and I became good friends. We adore his wife Donna who worked alongside him and helped Mark build something so beautiful and so special. That mission will go on.
The Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation is proud to support Bound for College. We knew that betting on Mark was a sure thing because he brought his heart to the work, making sure the kids had all they needed to make it. He spoke to teachers, coaches and employers. He handled dental and health issues, got involved with the families of those he served and led with love.
Mark and I had many conversations over the years. Usually at Granger’s where we discussed the great issues of the day and Mark’s plans for the kids he cared for so deeply. He was all about them.
He was all about changing the trajectory of their lives.  I will miss our talks. He taught me, encouraged me and inspired me.  And so many others can say the same thing.
His heart, his mindset was focused solely on the future. He wanted to help as many kids as possible and he was doing it.
Bound for College is spreading across the county and it’s making a difference.
Mark took on this work, this labor of love after a remarkable career in business which included running theme parks, the Pittsburgh Pirates, the St. Louis Cardinals and the St. Louis Blues. Mark was  modest about his career, but he was very proud of his efforts on behalf of young children who needed a helping hand. He fell in love with Delray Beach and he changed this place for the better. He woke up everyday focused on his mission: helping kids who needed it.
His work will continue and the dividends of that work will last generations.
I will miss him terribly. We all will.
But I want to celebrate Mark’s many accomplishments. I want to remember and appreciate his heart for children who needed a helping hand for a chance at a better life. Mark was that hand and that heart for so so many. His influence will live on in the lives of these wonderful young people Mark discovered and nurtured. He saw them. He saw their limitless potential. He saw their promise and their need and he dedicated his life to meeting those needs. He gave them an opportunity, a hand-up, not a hand-out and they took it and ran with it to places we cannot yet imagine.
Their lives are better because of Mark and Bound for College. He was the best of America. He was the best of us and his heart will live on.
J&J’s
Last week we also learned that J&J’s Seafood was closing June 14 after 26 wonderful years.
John and Tina Hutchinson are terrific people and restaurateurs and this news saddened their fans—my wife and I among them.
It’s where we got engaged so J&J’s holds a special place in our hearts.
Along with Granger’s, J&J’s was a longtime go-to restaurant, a place where I can walk from my office and have a great meal and enjoy excellent and friendly service.
John is an immensely talented chef and his creativity is legendary.
This great, good place will be dearly missed. I hold out hope that they can find a place in our high rent town. Their team is precious and special and we need that kind of hospitality in our community. My heart goes out to the wonderful people who made this restaurant soar for a generation. Here’s looking at you Claudia and Courtney.
We wish for more.