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Poetry…

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

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

So is Dylan.

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

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

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

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

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

My friend Andrea is a poet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Looking Ahead: Notes On A New Year

Wishing you a happy, healthy and safe new year.

Looking Ahead: Notes on a New Year

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

2025 tested that belief. For a lot of us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

What am I wary of?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He will be missed.

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

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

Front Row Blues

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

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

I’m a fan of the playwright Ken Ludwig so when I saw that the theatre department at Palm Beach Atlantic University was producing one of his works I jumped on it and snagged tickets in the front row.
I thought it was great. The actors, singers and dancers in this amazing production were a few feet from us. I felt like we were in my living room.
My partner wasn’t as thrilled. She will go nameless, but I was advised “please, no more front row seats.”
This puzzled me. I mean we just had a wow experience enhanced—I thought— by our proximity to the performers.
So I asked why and was told that being too close made it impossible to zone out, cough, etc.
Fair enough. That’s honest. And next time I will shoot for second row seats but it got me thinking.
Isn’t it the point to pay attention?
For me, one of the pleasures of live performance is it places me in the moment and I stay there.
When I’m at home watching Netflix, I’m often scrolling on my phone, nodding off, playing with the dogs and generally daydreaming.
But at the theatre I’m in it. I’m listening. I’m watching. I’m off the phone and if the play is doing its job I’m in the story.
I find it a great respite. My phone, full of texts, emails and notifications will be there waiting for me when the show is over.
Attention is what I love about theatre.
At a time when distraction is constant and authenticity feels scarce, the theatre remains one of the last places where we must show up fully, listen closely and connect honestly.
Count me in!
Magic happens when we show up.
Knowing this, I recently gave myself a challenge. 
Let me see if I could pay attention at home, in my comfortable chair, with a chihuahua on my lap and a golden retriever staring at me with a toy in her mouth begging for yet another game of tug of war. 
I’m proud to say I did it! 
I started with the amazing Beatles Anthology documentary on Disney Plus. 
I saw it 30 plus years ago and had forgotten how amazing it was. As a lifelong Beatles fan, I was cheating a little bit. I mean it’s not hard for me to immerse myself in the music and the story of my favorite band. The songs remain sublime. The charisma of John, Paul, George and Ringo radiates off the screen and the story itself is remarkable. So much amazing footage to enjoy , so many songs that just make you feel good. Breathtaking…
Now Disney Plus, at least my version, has a lot of ads. And so I was able to indulge the dogs, check my phone and lose four games of tug of war while the ads ran. 
Armed with the confidence that I could pay attention to the content if I really put my mind to it, I upped the ante and rented one of my favorite movies while my anonymous entertainment partner was out at a party last week. 
I ordered the 1979 movie “Starting Over” starring Burt Reynolds, Jill Clayburgh, Candice Bergen and one of my favorites Charles Durning. 
“Starting Over” is a criminally underrated romantic comedy and I’m pleased to report the movie holds up despite being 46 years old. 
It’s funny, touching and I’ve been a fan of Burt Reynolds for decades. When I was a cub reporter I did a story about the Burt Reynolds ranch and met his dad Burt Sr. A year later, I interviewed Burt himself when he filmed an episode of B.L. Stryker at the Cathcart House (now part of Sundy Village) on Swinton Avenue. What a thrill! I got to meet and interview Burt and his co-star Maureen Stapleton. He was gracious once he was convinced that I wasn’t working for the National Enquirer which was just up the road in Lantana. 
Anyway, I made it through “Starting Over” without any commercial breaks. It helps that I’ve had a crush on Jill Clayburgh since “Silver Streak” and once clipped her picture out of Newsday because I thought she looked like the girl I liked in English class. When I presented the photo to the young woman after class, she looked at me funny. I think she was insulted. Turns out, my Jill look alike grew up to be a prominent prosecutor. Here’s hoping the statute of limitations on poor flirting strategies has passed. 
But I digress; the point is paying attention is possible. It’s hard, but still doable. 
It just takes a front row seat, or Beatles music or great stars acting in a beautifully written story with music by Marvin Hamlisch. 
Now if I can just make it through a Giants game.

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

—Phillips Brooks

An Extraordinary Life

An extraordinary life

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

 

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

Isn’t that beautiful?

That happened everywhere Tony went.

Gratitude followed him like a shadow.

 

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

 

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

That’s what legends do.

They wake up with purpose.

They live to serve.

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

 

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

But through it all, Tony never wavered.

He never stopped caring.

He never gave in to anger.

He never lost hope.

He responded to darkness with light.

He met judgment with kindness.

He met despair with possibility.

That’s rare.

That’s heroic.

That’s Tony.

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

 

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

 

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

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

 

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

 

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

The message was clear:

People are counting on us.

Meetings can’t be missed.

Lives are at stake.

 

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

We got the message.

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

 

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

 

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

There will never be another Tony.

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

But here’s the part that gives me comfort:

People like Tony live on.

His legacy is alive in every person he helped recover.

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

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

 

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

Those ripples endure.

They always will.

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

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

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

Tony was a bright light.

And that bright light will continue to burn bright.

It lives in us now.

It is our turn to carry it forward.

Thank you.

 

Celebrating Placemakers

Carol Coletta

Here’s to the placemakers…the visionaries who build our communities.

Placemaking– the art of planning and designing public spaces that strengthens the connection between people and the places they share—breathes life into our cities.

The best placemaking is community-driven and focuses on the social, cultural, and emotional life of a space—not just its physical features. At its best, placemaking helps communities create public spaces that are welcoming, active, inclusive, and reflective of local identity.

It turns people into co-creators, honors everyday life as rich with possibility, and transforms parks, streets, plazas, and neighborhoods into vibrant places where community can flourish.

It’s an art form.

I’ve been thinking about the special people attracted to this pursuit of late.

First, we lost Kathy Madden, a legendary placemaker, with long time ties to Delray Beach and then my friend Carol Coletta received the 2025 Urban Land Institute’s Prize for Visionaries in Urban Development, the most respected and prestigious honor in the land use and development community.

If the name Coletta rings a bell its because two decades ago, we hired Carol to help us draft the Delray Beach Cultural Plan, a wonderful vision that in a roundabout way led to the creation of the Arts Garage, which has become a local jewel and an important cultural institution in South Florida.

I discovered Carol through her excellent radio show “Smart City” which used to air on public radio. I used to wake up early on weekends to catch the program. Later, I was thrilled to be on the show to talk about what we were building in Delray Beach.

I recruited Carol to help us devise a strategy for the arts and culture in Delray Beach. She worked with the community and produced a plan that 20 plus years later is still relevant and actionable. Yes, she’s a visionary.

Since those days Carol has left her mark on cities. As president and CEO of the Memphis River Parks Partnership from 2017 to 2024, she led an effort to raise more than $100 million for riverfront improvements, including $61 million for the award-winning Tom Lee Park, a national model for inclusive public space.

These days Carol is a Bloomberg Public Innovation Fellow at the Bloomberg Center for Public Innovation at Johns Hopkins. Prior to her current position, she held leadership roles at the John S. and James L. Knight Foundation and The Kresge Foundation.

She’s the real deal. But besides her resume, she’s a terrific person whose passion for cities and placemaking is contagious.

I’ve kept up with Carol through the years following her work and occasionally reaching out to say hello. Here’s some things she’s taught me and others.

Four lessons for transformational placemaking:

  1. You Have to Really Want Change—and Be Ready to Persist

 

Transformative placemaking is not for the faint of heart. Carol reminds us that change always meets resistance, and nostalgia—“the most powerful hallucinogenic”—can stop a community in its tracks. Visionary leaders must be prepared to push through doubt, fear, and opposition. You can’t create great places unless you’re willing to fight for them.

I’m intrigued by her reference to the nostalgic “hallucinogenic.” I get caught up in nostalgia—often. And when I was an elected official I ran into that mindset whenever we proposed change. In hindsight, just about every major project or initiative was met with resistance—often tied to nostalgia. Such an interesting insight.

 

  1. Think Bigger and Smaller at the Same Time

Great public spaces require a big vision—not just a single park or plaza, but the context, connections, and complementary uses that allow a place to thrive. But we can’t forget the small stuff either: plants on a porch, a flag on a stoop, a neighbor’s handmade sign.

Carol calls this the balance between engagement and agency. Engagement is when people show up to a meeting. Agency is when they shape their block with their own hands. Transformative places embrace both scales.

 

  1. Lead With Narrative—the Soft Infrastructure of Place

 

Storytelling is not decoration; it’s foundation. Carol’s work at Tom Lee Park shows how a powerful local story can animate an entire public realm, giving a place emotional meaning and civic identity. Narrative turns a park into a memory, a plaza into a shared inheritance.

Great placemakers don’t just design spaces—they surface stories that bind a community together.

Frances Bourque, the founder of Old School Square, was the best example of a local storyteller that I’ve encountered. She used narrative (and it was natural for her to do so) and built an army of civic changemakers who bought into the vision.

 

  1. Design for Belonging—On Purpose

 

Connection doesn’t happen by accident. Carol argues that public spaces must start with the explicit intention to mix people across lines of class, race, and background. At a time of increasing income segregation, parks and plazas may be among the few democratic spaces left where diverse people can encounter one another.

Placemaking at its best creates welcoming, inclusive, human environments where everyone feels they belong.

As for Kathy Madden…well she leaves behind a remarkable legacy. We lost her in October. It’s a big loss for those of us who value placemaking. While I’m in fairly regular touch with Kathy’s husband, Fred Kent, legendary founder of the Project for Public Spaces (PPS), I only met Kathy on a few occasions. But she was Fred’s partner in life and placemaking, serving as co-founder of PPS and later co-founder of the Placemaking Fund, Placemaking X and the Social Life Project–global networks aimed at expanding the reach of placemaking even further. Despite health challenges, she remained active and engaged, still showing up (virtually or in person) to conferences and summits, including recent gatherings in Mexico City and Toronto.

Kathy is perhaps best known for her work in placemaking education. She co-authored and wrote several books and articles, including the PPS best-selling publication “How to Turn a Place Around”, translated into more than ten languages. She also launched PPS’s popular training course of the same name. In fact, the very term “placemaking” first appeared in Kathy’s educational materials, describing PPS’s collaborative approach to the design and management of public spaces.

I’ve read many of her works and she taught me a lot about what it takes to make a place.

She wanted people to understand that great places aren’t designed by experts working in isolation; they’re shaped by the people who use them, love them, and depend on them every day.

Delray was Kathy’s second home for 68 years. She had deep family ties to our town. Fred remains deeply involved and the two created a series of interesting in-depth articles about Delray that can be found on their Social Life Project website.

Delray was not just one more project location — it was part of her personal geography, a place she kept returning to and cared about deeply.

I recommend reading “How Delray Beach’s Atlantic Avenue Can Become the Best Main Street in Florida.” Here’s the link: https://www.sociallifeproject.org/delray-beach-atlantic-avenue/

We Remember, We Mourn

This has been quite a year.
I’ve literally lost count of the friends I’ve lost. Today, I want to call your attention to two more special people who passed in recent days: Keith O’Donnell and Tom Johnston.
I don’t relish writing these tributes but I think it’s important to celebrate the lives of extraordinary people who made a difference in our community.
Keith was a local legend in real estate and civic affairs. He was a thinker, a believer. He liked big ideas. He saw the big picture and remained focused on what I call “the big rocks.”
He played a major role in bringing corporations to Boca Raton and Palm Beach County. He was involved in just about all the big initiatives that you can think of in Southern Palm Beach County and beyond.
Lynn University, the Arvida Park of Commerce, the Congress Avenue corridor in Delray, downtown Boca, Mizner Park and the list goes on.
I can’t remember exactly when I met Keith. I know we served on the Business Development Board of Palm Beach County together. I know he was active when I was elected official and he was at the center of some of my company’s work in recent years including the purchase of the old Office Depot headquarters and the Bank of America assemblage on US 1.
I considered Keith to be a friend and a teacher of sorts. He always left me with something to think about. He was a big believer in Boca, Delray, Boynton and all of Palm Beach County.
He saw places and immediately knew how they could be better.
I will miss Keith. He left his mark on our community. He was a long term player. And we need those.
Last week, we also lost Tom Johnston, a retired teacher, all-around good guy and the man known as “Mr. Garlic” thanks to his long term affiliation with the Garlic Festival.
Tom was a former neighbor of mine. He was a favorite teacher for many children who attended Banyan Creek Elementary School in Delray and he and his late wife Beth were active in many local activities.
Tom had a wonderful laugh. He also had a great sense of humor and was always quick with a kind word, a timely text and a good joke.
They don’t make em like Tom or Keith anymore.
I sure wish they did.

The Chiefs Among Us…

Riviera Beach Chief Coleman.

Note: Here’s a special early edition of the blog. I have jury duty next week…so here it is in case I get sequestered. 

If you can use a dose of civic pride stick with me.

Last week, late at night, I got a text message from the Riviera Beach Police Chief.

Now, normally a late night text message from a police chief is usually not good news.

But in this case, Chief Michael Coleman is a long time friend. And the text included a press release that made me smile.

Three Palm Beach County law enforcement agencies (Delray Beach, Highland Beach, and Riviera Beach police departments) were among 30 agencies from across the state who earned re-accreditation last week from the Commission for Florida Law Enforcement Accreditation.

That’s a big deal.

Accreditation is hard to achieve.

This recognition reflects a rigorous review of policies and procedures, affirming each agency’s commitment to excellence in law enforcement standards, accountability and community service.

They don’t just hand this recognition out. You have to earn it.

What makes this achievement especially noteworthy is a common denominator – all three departments are currently led by chiefs who began their careers with the Delray Beach Police Department. This shared legacy underscores the department’s longstanding culture of leadership development and professional excellence.

 

“This speaks volumes about the caliber of training that Delray Beach police officers receive,” Chief Coleman said. Coleman also serves as chairperson of the Palm Beach County Law Enforcement Planning Council (LEPC).

Highland Beach Chief Hartmann.

 

Reflecting on this milestone, “Accreditation is more than a certificate, it’s a commitment to our community. I’m proud of our team’s dedication and grateful for the foundation I received at Delray Beach P.D.,” Highland Beach Chief Craig Hartmann said.

 

“We are honored to be recognized alongside our neighboring agencies,” Delray Beach Chief Darrel Hunter said. “It’s a testament to the professionalism and heart our officers bring to the job every day. Seeing former Delray Beach officers now leading other departments is a point of pride for all of us.”

Indeed, it is.

Here’s a little historical perspective to put this into perspective.

When I came to Delray Beach in 1987, the Police Department had a very different profile in town.

There were scores of great officers and wonderful detectives, but the chief at the time was how shall we put it…controversial.

As a result, police/community relations had its challenges. As a young reporter, it was an interesting time to cover the Delray beat. There was a lot of crime and there was a lot of tension too.

Things began to turn around when Rick Lincoln briefly took the reigns. Rick was a great guy who came up through the ranks. He was respected and believed in what was then a new concept: community-oriented policing. Things really began to turn around when Chief Rick Overman came from Orlando and stepped on the community-oriented policing gas pedal.

In a few years, there were over 1,000 citizens on patrol, volunteers who provided a set of eyes and ears for officers. Chief Overman invited citizens into the department offering a Citizens Police Academy, which brought down barriers and lifted a veil of mystery. With officers assigned to neighborhoods they were encouraged to develop relationships and they did. It was a golden age and ushered in a sea change in police/community relations.

Delray Chief Hunter.

Chief Overman always preached that he couldn’t fight crime alone. He needed citizens to be engaged and take ownership of their neighborhoods. Crime fighting was a partnership.

Crime rates fell and the ground was seeded for a Delray revival.

I’ve long felt that public safety is the table stakes for a community. With it, you can attract investment, families and visitors. Without it, you’re toast.

As a result, the Delray Beach Police Department is the unsung hero of Delray’s success. Along with Fire Rescue, Delray offers citizens and businesses outstanding public safety services.

Along the way, Delray became known as a breeding ground for chiefs. I’ve lost count of how many former Delray officers became chiefs in other cities, a testament to the department’s training and leadership. It’s also a credit to the taxpayers who have wisely invested in these life saving and life protecting services.

We’ve sent chiefs to Stuart, Waco, Texas, Juno Beach, Peachtree City, Georgia, Manalapan, Douglas, Arizona, Lighthouse Point, Longboat Key, Lantana, Tequesta, Lauderhill and yes Riviera Beach and Highland Beach. I know there are more. Chief Lincoln ended up as the number two at the Palm Beach Sheriff’s Office, a huge organization.

It’s a proud history. Other cities look to the Delray PD for leadership and innovation.

I wanted to share, because it’s important.

 

 

 

 

Next Chapters…

Aarif Khan with EJS Project founder Dupree Jackson.

Recently, I saw a post on social media about golfer Rory McIlroy donating $10.9 million to build housing for orphans and homeless people in Northern Ireland.

Sadly, those stories were fake. One more piece of evidence to make us feel bad about the state of our world. Why would anyone lie about such a thing?

When we write the story of what happened to our world, when we focus on what drove us apart, I suspect that social media will be at the top of the list of causes. Thanks Elon. Thanks Zuck. Hope you enjoy your fortunes.

With the advent and maturation (an oxymoron) of social media, we have let go of moderation, curation, editing and fact-checking. We’ve fallen into a deep crevasse which seems bottomless. Goodbye propriety, hello deep-fake AI. Sigh…

I cut my teeth in the newspaper business an imperfect model that nevertheless strived to be fair and accurate. If that sentence somehow offends you or makes you gag, I get it.

Newspapers and media in general are a human business and humans make mistakes. People come to their work with inherent bias.

But in the newsrooms where I worked, I saw journalists who strived to be accurate and took pride in their reporting.

Before I handed a story to an editor, I usually read it five or six times. I worked with a range of personalities, some kind, some curmudgeonly, but all experienced. Their antennae were always on alert for errors of fact or omission. I lived in fear of being called out for writing something inaccurate.

I made my fair share of mistakes; like I said reporting is or was a human business. My era was well before the days of AI. Now you can feed your work to ChatGPT for a quick scan of facts. In my day, I had to rely on sources, frequent trips to a physical library and City Hall to access government documents and reports. Our most productive time was spent out of the newsroom; today I suspect you don’t have to leave your desk and that’s a crying shame. The best stuff is discovered when you are out and about, just like the best parts of life happen when you leave your screen behind and explore the world.

Anyway, I was saddened that the Rory story was false. We can use some uplifting news these days.

So, I went looking and I found some.

I’m a big fan of the EJS Project, a local nonprofit that is changing lives right here in Delray Beach.

Emmanuel “Dupree” Jackson is a leader to watch. He’s devoting his life and considerable talents to the next generation. The foundation I work for supports his work and because we believe in Dupree and his team.

We believe in Dupree’s heart and we’ve seen the results; local teens stepping into their potential, learning how the world works and gaining confidence and experience to lead our community someday. Hurry up, next generation, our world needs you. Our current generation is failing us miserably.

Anyway, we recently  received word that one of EJS’ talented leaders is leaving the organization to pursue his next chapter in life, an MBA at Duke.

Aarif Khan was a senior program manager at EJS. Since joining EJS in 2021 he has touched lots of lives. The lessons he taught, the experiences he helped facilitate will stay with the young people he touched for the rest of their lives.

I’ll let Aarif tell you himself.

“My connection to EJS began in 2021 while studying at the Watson Institute at Lynn University. My mentor, Jerry Hildebrand, encouraged me to find a social impact internship and circled the EJS Project on a list of options. He said it was the perfect match for my “boots on the ground” attitude. Unfortunately, later in the same semester, on October 5, 2021, Jerry passed away. Jerry was an integral part of my life at a time when guidance, inspiration, a friendly face, and an ear to listen were very much needed.

Honoring his guidance, I pursued an internship with EJS. With help from a friend, Ricky Aiken from Inner City Innovators, I connected with Dupree, and what began as a three-month internship evolved into almost four years of meaningful work.

We still laugh about my first day: I showed up in a three-piece suit, clip-on tie and all, for what was supposed to be an informal conversation. That moment set the tone for my time here: showing up with intention, ready to go beyond expectations. It’s a story we now share with students to remind them that how you show up can open doors.

From my first tutoring session, I felt a sense of family at EJS. Students gave up Saturdays to help their peers, parents stopped in to greet staff, and neighbors treated our space as a true community hub. That spirit has never faded, and I know how blessed I am to be part of this community.”

Wow.

Aarif’s words take my breath away and remind me of the beauty that still exists in a world that seems to amplify ugliness.

I noticed that he “name checked” two people in his letter to the EJS community. The late Jerry Hildebrand and Ricky Aiken of Inner City Innovators.

I served on Jerry’s board at the Social Impact Lab at Lynn University. As I write these words, I’m looking at a beautiful scarf Jerry gifted me from a trip to Africa. A handwritten note mentioned that scarves and head wraps were once symbolic of oppression and subjugation but were later transformed into a powerful symbol of dignity, survival and resistance.

When I consider Aarif’s value to our children, I wonder how many other young leaders Jerry touched in his life. I trust that the waves of goodness they create are ongoing and that’s how people like Jerry Hildebrand live on.

The other name mentioned was Mr. Aiken. I just met Ricky at his office at the wonderful 1909 incubator in West Palm Beach. My team was invited to join a meeting of the Inner City Innovators and we were deeply moved by their mission and commitment to saving inner city youth from the violence and dysfunction that plague some of our neighborhoods.

They are making a difference (without the need for federal troops) by developing relationships, meeting the emergency needs of kids who struggle financially and showing up with a heart for their work. What they do is beautiful and breathtaking.

And there’s more good work to share.

The Delray Beach Playhouse and The Arts Garage are showcasing local talent, sharing important stories and giving artists an outlet to spark conversations. That is invaluable. We need to talk, we need to gather, we need to share or we will lose each other. It’s just that simple.

Her Second Chance, a beautiful nonprofit in Boca, is saving the lives of women in recovery by giving them a purpose, support and the skills they will need to rebuild. I urge you to visit, your life will change when you see their work up close.

Visit the Achievement Center for Children and Families and see our most vulnerable little ones thrive in a loving environment. Attend an event at Max Planck, an amazing institute and witness scientists engage the community about brain health and see up close why it’s important to support scientific research. It’s an investment in us.

And the list goes on.

Once again I come back to the words of Aarif Khan about his experience at EJS.

“Thank you, Dupree, for trusting me to lead. EJS has always been about one thing: unlocking potential that others overlook. You did that with me and helped me find and grow into my fullest self. I may not have come in through an intake, or with a parent asking for help, but I am just as much a student of the EJS Project as I am a staff member.”

Beautiful.

So maybe Rory didn’t take his Ryder Cup bonus (apparently there is no such thing) and give to the needy in Ireland. But he has given in the past. I don’t pretend to know why someone would plant falsehoods into the algorithm, but I do know that real and positive work is being done right here at home and all over the world.

Let’s be thankful for that.

 

Cafes, Community, Connections & Gratitude

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

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

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

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

Really hard work.

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

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

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

It’s  also intoxicating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What a wonderful experience.

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

I’m grateful.

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

Catalysts Leave & Weave A Legacy

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

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

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

The surprise part is important.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Shape Of Things To Come

 

I’ve been thinking a lot about stories lately.

Storytelling is a fundamental human art form and the most powerful way to convey ideas, create connections, and understand the world.

It has been said that all great literature is one of two stories; a person goes on a journey, or a stranger comes to town.

I have to think about that one, but it sounds about right.

Anyway, I was thinking that places have stories as well. America has a story (and may need a refresh to bring us together) and certainly cities and regions have their narratives as well.

Recently, I tuned into a webinar presented by a cool company called Mission Impact Strategies which is led by my friend Alex Price. Alex is a talented leader with lots of energy and vision. His team is skilled in coalition building, strategy and leadership development. I think he’s going to make a big impact across our state in the next few decades. I look forward to watching him soar.

On the webinar, he interviewed another talented leader named Imran Siddiqui. Imran is another friend that I expect will do big things in his new role. He’s a super smart, deeply connected and driven individual. I enjoy our too infrequent chats because I always come away with a deeper understanding of our community.

Imran recently became CEO of South Florida Tech Hub which seeks to build, grow, sustain and brand South Florida as a globally recognized innovation hub. It;s a big and important mission. A heavy lift as they say, but Imran is a talent. He’s going to make a difference.

One of his main strategies—outlined on the webinar—is to create a new narrative (story) for our region emphasizing collaboration, talent and connection.

He has his eye on places like Austin, Texas, Silicon Valley, Denver and Atlanta—metros that are known for their tech talent, venture capital investment and job growth.

Imran told us that tech innovation in Miami-Dade, Broward and Palm Beach counties are on an “upward trajectory” based on job growth, VC money, deal making and reputation.

“Talent doesn’t have to leave South Florida to have a career,” he told listeners on the webinar, a group that included nonprofit executives, public officials, business leaders and academics.

Still, there are the usual headwinds which include affordability, fractured politics, competition from other regions here and abroad, the promise and peril of AI and the usual barriers to regional collaboration, which includes a parochial mindset that prizes winning over partnership.

The webinar was a fascinating overview of what’s happening in our economy, but Imran noted some of the factors creating momentum.

Among them:

The arrival of big players.

“Ken Griffin’s presence alone is a momentum shifter,” he said referring to the business titan who went to school in Boca and founded hedge fund giant Citadel.

Griffin has been making a splash throughout the region with his investment and philanthropy. Joining him is a raft full of Wall Street financial firms and real estate magnate Stephen Ross who has adopted West Palm Beach.

All of these data points, which include several high profile deals (Bain Capital investing in Boca’s Aerospace Technologies Group, a private equity giant buying a majority stake in Boca’s ModMed at a $5.3 billion valuation, Celsius’ remarkable growth which has turned the energy drink company into a company with a $14.5 billion market cap etc.) is changing South Florida’s narrative from a place to retire into a place where serious business is being conducted.

“Narrative matters,” Mr. Siddiqui told his audience. “Because perception drives investment.”

He’s right.

And so, I wonder what is our story in Delray?

Where do we fit in?

South Florida’s brand is driven by three dominant cities: Miami, Fort Lauderdale and West Palm Beach. But the other cities in the region matter as well. Boca is punching above its weight with more than half of Palm Beach County’s corporate headquarters calling Boca their home.

Boca is a compelling story and has been for a while now. The potential redevelopment of its city hall campus, the transformation planned at the former IBM campus now known as BRIC (Boca Raton Innovation Campus) and the announcement of a $1 billion fund by 1789 Capital (Donald Trump Jr. is a partner) is said to be focused specifically on Palm Beach and Boca. The fund is described as “anti-woke” (whatever that is) and is named after the year the Bill of Rights was adopted, according to the firm’s website, 1789 Capital.

 

Meanwhile, West Palm Beach’s newly announced Service Now deal is an important milestone for the local AI economy and comes with a promise of 850 plus jobs. Vanderbilt University is coming as well.

I recently had a chance to hang out with Fort Lauderdale Mayor Dean Trantalis at an FAU football game. There’s a lot happening in his city as well; it’s dizzying. Fort Lauderdale often gets lost in the conversation relative to Miami and West Palm Beach, but the one-time Spring Break Capital has been transformed with more investment on the horizon.

I think stories and narratives need to be shaped and updated by citizens and policymakers. They can grow stale. They must be true, or they are quickly discounted or even turned into objects of derision. If you bill yourself as a city on the move, well you better be.

Anyway, a lot is happening. And investment, opportunity and jobs will go the places that are switched on, visionary, open for business and tell a riveting story.