9 November, 2020 11 11 Comments

Choices

November 9, 2020 By 11 Comments

“The refusal of Democrats and Republicans to cooperate with one another is not some mysterious force beyond our control. It’s a decision. A choice we make. And if we can decide not to cooperate, then we can decide to cooperate.” President-elect Joe Biden Jr.

History is fascinating.
It delivers us moments in time where if we make a choice we can make progress, squander an opportunity or make a colossal mistake that will set us back.
Good leaders don’t miss the moments. They get them right.
Like most of you, I watched a blizzard of pundits opine on the election and what it means for America.
My personal read on the election is that moderation won and divisiveness lost.
One of the commentators noted that voters determine the direction of our Democracy and I agree. Government of the people, by the people and for the people is our American DNA.
But while the people have the ultimate say at the ballot box, those we choose to lead us play an outsize role in our society.
Their style, personalities and demeanor make a difference.
If our leaders have empathy, our communities feel a little more empathetic. If our leaders strive to listen, our communities will feel heard, not marginalized.
I had lunch with an old friend last week. He did a lot for Delray Beach over many, many years.
We talked about what’s happened in recent years: the vitriol of social media, the turnover at City Hall, the infighting on the commission dais.
And we talked about what works too—civic engagement, team work, goal setting.

Somewhere along the way, we as a country and a city decided to demonize those with whom we disagree. We chose not to listen. We chose to bully, marginalize, divide, disparage  and spread misinformation.
This choice—and it was a choice—has done a lot of damage to America and to our hometown of Delray Beach.
Nationally, we the people have watched helplessly as America has become tribal and we have paid a price as we watch the tribes do battle.
We have lost our unity, ceded our leadership position in the world and watched our problems pile up.
Problems can’t be solved if we can’t compromise and find a way forward together. They don’t go away either, they fester and grow in complexity.
Same in  our communities.
There was a time when other cities made pilgrimages to Delray to learn how it was done. How to rejuvenate a downtown. How to implement community policing and how to leverage culture to build community. We were a leading municipality; a place where talent longed work.
I miss those days. So do many others.
Partisan politics aside, I invite someone to argue with President-elect Biden’s statement that he will work as hard for those who didn’t vote for him as those who did.
That’s how it’s supposed to be.
In my hometown, I have friends who live in fear of retribution  if they back the wrong candidate—therefore the one who loses.
So rather than choose the candidate they feel will be best for Delray they try and pick winners. This isn’t good.
We shouldn’t feel threatened by our endorsements or lack thereof.
We should elect leaders who work as hard for their supporters as they do for those who didn’t support them. We should elect leaders who follow our codes and make decisions based on what’s best for our town. Period.
We can have those leaders.  It’s a choice.
There is no mysterious force keeping us apart. We just have to recognize each other’s humanity and good will and vote out those who divide.
2 November, 2020 4 4 Comments

November 4 Matters

November 2, 2020 By 4 Comments

Governing matters more than campaigning.

There was a time ,when win or lose , when we accepted the outcome.

We wished the winner well and went about our lives. And if we were patriotic, we hoped that whoever won would succeed.

Elections had consequences for sure. But we accepted them and hoped for the best.
We moved on.

If the winners were smart and magnanimous (and it’s smart to be magnanimous) they reached across the aisle and assured the opposition  that their interests would matter and their voices would be heard and respected.
We don’t seem to do these things anymore and it’s killing us.

It’s killing our spirit, our sense of unity and our hopes for a better future.
It doesn’t have to be with this way.

How we treat and view each other is a choice.

We can—if we want to—summon  our ‘better angels’ as Abraham Lincoln advised.

I have friends on both sides of our national political divide.

We will remain friends although we have struggled to understand how and why we think the way we do.

For the life of me, I can’t see what they are seeing and they can’t see what I am seeing but our affection for each other trumps (no pun intended) any ill will.
That’s how it should be.

But I would be less than honest if I didn’t say that at times it has been a strain to maintain these relationships.

I think the reason is that both sides see each other as existential threats to our way of life.

Democrats fear Republicans will role back rights and ignore climate change and science to the detriment of our planet and our health.
Republicans see Democrats as hell bent on rolling back rights they enjoy and endangering our capitalist system.

Those beliefs make it hard to accept outcomes that don’t favor your side.

But somehow we have to figure out how to live together.

If we don’t, this experiment in Democracy can’t survive. A house divided cannot stand to quote Honest Abe again.

I happen to think we are at the breaking point and the next few weeks or months may well determine the future of our nation.
We can decide to stick together or we can agree to blow it apart.
That’s our choice.

Sadly, it’s easier to destroy something than it is to build and sustain.
So the easier choice will be to indulge our anger and exercise our grievances.
But the better choice is always to seek common ground, learn to compromise, listen to each other and work to keep it together.
It’s not easy.
The differences are real and they are deep. The mistrust and hatred we are experiencing is also very real.

The formula to turn this around is not readily apparent. It is the leadership challenge of a lifetime.
But we need to meet that challenge. Or at least try.

In my opinion, whoever is elected —if they are serious about bridging the divisions, or if they even want to—should start by reminding us about what binds us. There are things we all agree on and we need to insist that those issues be addressed.
Our national leadership—both Democrats and Republicans—have let us down by failing to address problems or seize opportunities.
Washington is dysfunctional and the fact that we can’t find a way to work together to address health care, infrastructure, immigration and environmental issues is a disgrace. So is our response to COVID which is not going away November 4. Oh, how I wish it would.
There are scores of other issues that have gone unaddressed.
Most of these issues can be solved– but only if we work together. A good leader will focus on what binds us, not what divides us.

Still, this blog focuses on local life so here goes.

There are parallels between our toxic national scene and what we are seeing right here  in Delray.

I can and maybe will write a book about how we went astray. How we went all the way up the mountain and then decided to give it back.

And it was a decision. Or rather a slew of decisions that threaten to undo a whole lot of good work.

Imagine, if you will, a quilt. Then imagine pulling a thread and then another and another and all of sudden your quilt falls apart.
Cities are like quilts—pull a thread here and a thread there and suddenly you don’t know why your reclaimed water project is a mess or your reputation has gone from best run town in Florida to a place where every headline seems to scream scandal and dysfunction.

The parallels with our national scene are eerie and rooted in divides.
One faction thinks the other will or has ruined Delray.
Again, this kind of division is dangerous and unproductive.

The battle doesn’t play out on Cable TV like it does nationally but on social media with charges lobbed like bombs on a daily basis.
It gets us nowhere.

It creates a mess and it prevents us from solving problems or seizing opportunities.

It also plays on our mood. Civic pride, once strong ,weakens. Trust in local government also weakens and with it we lose something very fundamental.

We lose respect for the past, hope for the present. and faith in the future.
Sound familiar?
Sounds like America.

If you love your country and your city—as many of us do; you want to see us fulfill our vast potential. You want to see progress, jobs, opportunity, safety and happiness.
Cities and nations need North Stars. We need a common set of values that we fight for, cherish and protect.

When you lose your North Star, you get lost at sea. You drift, you fight and you waste time and resources.

We need leaders who understand the importance of values and a North Star. We need leaders who strive to bring us together. We don’t need to be labeled, libeled and let down. We need to be inspired, motivated and united.
Yes, that’s a very tall order. And it can’t be accomplished easily or readily. But it needs to start somewhere.

We put a lot of burden on our leaders, but we citizens have an even more important role.
We have a responsibility to vote and vote wisely. We have a responsibility to be informed on the issues and to speak truth to power.

Remember, we stand for what we tolerate. We have a responsibility to work for a better tomorrow and to insist on performance and accountability.
Our lives depend on it and future generations are depending on us to do better.

We need to do better.

And we can.

26 October, 2020 7 7 Comments

A Cautionary Tale

October 26, 2020 By 7 Comments

I read an interview with Kenosha, Wisconsin Mayor John Antaramian that I found very interesting.

Mayor Antaramian has been in the national news lately after his city erupted in protest after the shooting of Jacob Blake.

Blake, 29, a Black man, was left paralyzed after an encounter with local police.

In my experience—which I’ll get to in a minute—the level of unrest that cities experience in the wake of violence is directly correlated to the relationships and work that has been done years before.

If your police department and city government connects to the community,  your odds of finding a positive way forward increase exponentially.

Former Delray Beach Police Chief Rick Overman—who was a remarkable chief—used to say that in his line of work trouble was inevitable. You did all you could to avoid it—you train your officers, you create rigorous standards for hiring, you embrace community policing—but at some point something bad was bound to happen. You will face a challenge, it’s the nature of the profession.

Policing is dangerous and important work.

While I can’t pretend to know what it’s really like, I’ve had a glimpse by spending lots of hours in the back of cruisers as a journalist and a policymaker. I’ve met and gotten to know scores of officers over the years.

I’ve had many late night conversations with officers who confided in me about what it’s like to put on a gun and a vest and head out to work not knowing what you are going to encounter. Those conversations have deepened my appreciation for the special people who choose that profession.

Chief Overman used to talk about something he called the “reservoir of goodwill.” Overman knew that there would come a day when something tragic would happen—he felt it was inevitable in his line of work—and his department would have to draw on that reservoir. So he and his officers worked every day to fill the reservoir by building trust and relationships citywide. Community policing was not a PR stunt or a photo op, it was a governing philosophy. Officers were urged to get out of their cruisers and to find ways to get to know the people and businesses in their zones.

We have seen incredible examples of this—officers past and present—who have connected in truly wonderful ways with the communities they serve. It makes all the difference in the world.

But police departments—as important and essential as they are—cannot do it all.

Again, Chief Overman recognized this fact. He needed the community to volunteer. He needed the community to tell his officers what was really happening on the street and he needed city government to care about all parts of our city.

Now many cities talk the talk.

They issue proclamations and mouth the words about investing in underserved communities. But too few cities walk the walk.

And those cities get in trouble when something happens and they realize that the reservoir has run dry or doesn’t exist at all.

Which leads me back to Mayor Antaramian in Kenosha.

He has been mayor of that town off and on for 20 years. When he was asked what he regrets the most, one mistake sticks out in his mind.

In 2000, the mayor formed a committee to address what he described as “racial issues.”

In Kenosha, the committee focused on housing and homeownership and according to the mayor they developed policies to address the issues identified.

“We spent about a year working on different issues,” he told USA Today. “We actually came to some solutions on those issues. My mistake was I didn’t keep that committee together. I’m refusing to make that mistake a second time. I’m getting too old to make too many mistakes. We thought we solved the problem and we didn’t.”

The last sentence is a key one.

A mistake many cities and mayors make is they think that once they address something it’s done.

The truth is, in this line of work—community building—you are never done. Never.

You must constantly be working to strengthen what you’ve built and you must be constantly be thinking about what’s not working and why.

Delray Beach has made this common mistake.

We think our downtown is done—it’s not.

We think our beach has been re-nourished and is safe, but we better maintain our dunes or they will wash away.

When I was mayor, the commission identified race relations as an issue we wanted to work on.

So we did.

We had study circles that encouraged people from different backgrounds to share their stories and learn from each other. We had neighborhood dinners in which people from different neighborhoods would gather to meet and share their hopes and dreams and we did our best to invest in neighborhoods that were neglected.

There were successes and there were disappointments. But there were no failures because making the effort yields dividends.

You learn.

You grow and you adjust—as a community. You do the work together.

Was it enough?
Unquestionably, the answer is no.

But the effort was never meant to end. It was designed to be an ongoing discussion and effort—long after me and my crew left.

Sadly, politics got in the way—as it often does. Personalities clash. Grudges develop and if not addressed—and they weren’t—they fester and eventually those feuds crowd out just about every initiative.

An old friend asked me recently whether it was possible to succeed if your government is dysfunctional or downright wacky.

My guess is—it’s not really possible.

Oh, there will be bright spots—non-profits doing good work and people who shine.

But think about how much more success you’d have if government was engaged and rowing in the same direction as the people they are supposed to serve.

Today, I worry about my city.

I fear that the reservoir is dangerously low.

Our Police Department is terrific and enjoys a great reputation. It remains an amazing asset.

But I sense anger and frustration out there—a lot of people are feeling marginalized and there is a huge concern over the poor treatment of several high ranking Black city employees whose careers were derailed in Delray.

I could be wrong.

I’m no barometer and I live behind a gate (when it’s working) in a lovely (mostly white) neighborhood. But I see stuff on social media and I still talk to a range of neighborhood leaders and I hear, see and feel the frustration out there.

We ignore it our peril.

We have got to get back to the work. We can’t make the mistake Kenosha did.

 

 

 

19 October, 2020 36 36 Comments

On The Path

October 19, 2020 By 36 Comments

The staff at Bethesda is truly remarkable.

When I entered the hospital with a positive Covid test and double pneumonia in July, I tried to think about how I could shed light on the virus and maybe help others by raising awareness.

I hoped that by sharing the good, the bad and the ugly of my experience I could —in a small way—serve my community.
I thought by sharing my specific experience, others might find something they could connect with.
My Facebook posts and now my blog were greeted with generous displays of love and caring. I’ve heard from many of you and your comments have given me strength and boosted my spirits. But more importantly, I’ve heard from several of you that my story made you stop and think about the virus and the safety of your loved ones.  For that and more, I thank you.
That’s the good.
The bad is the virus itself.
It’s dangerous.
It’s scary.
And it’s potentially lethal.
It’s important that we know that and respect that fact. It is not a flu and it is not a hoax.
It’s also not going away the day after the election.
I wish it would. But as we experience yet another surge in America and across a good swath of the world, it’s becoming apparent that we are up against a dangerous hydra that will alter our lives for the foreseeable future.
The ugly of this virus can be put into two buckets. The political aspect and the long lasting effects that some will experience.
The politics of this pandemic can be frustrating.
  I will probably be attacked for pointing out the seriousness of the virus because some believe that Covid is an overblown hoax. That’s OK, bring it.
Everyone is entitled to their opinion but not their own facts. I just don’t share those views. I trust in science. Not that science gets everything right, especially on its first pass, but eventually our best and brightest scientific minds figure things out.
The other bucket relates to the potential long haul of this disease.
For some, even when you recover, there are lingering issues to deal with.
When I decided to write about my experience I committed to telling the truth even if that truth is well…ugly.
So let me say that while I feel much, much better I’m still struggling.
My breathing is improving but still not quite back to normal. I remain very sore, my physical strength is returning but is vastly diminished and I suffer from horrible stabbing pains in my left leg and steady pain in my right arm.  I have daily headaches and have experienced Covid related hair loss.
All of that is bearable—even the leg. And it sure beats the alternative. I know I’m very fortunate.
But there’s an emotional aspect to this virus as well.
So here’s my confession—I’m a little off these days.
I get sad a few times a day.
It comes in waves triggered by stories I hear about people who have lost their lives during the pandemic or songs that just get to me. I get restless at night, have some trouble sleeping and feel anxious for no reason.
I’m really worried about my family and friends. I’m really worried about our community and the world itself.
I think about kids missing out on a normal social life and about senior citizens who are at risk and unable to enjoy their lives —cut off from grandchildren and others who enrich their lives.
I worry about small business owners and the unemployed and I think about the families of the more than one million people who have died worldwide in the pandemic.
I also worry about our medical workers, teachers, first responders and essential workers who fear for their health every time they leave for work.
I’ve been told that the flood of emotions I’m experiencing is to be expected.
Last week, I learned about a concept called “survivors guilt.”
Readers of this blog may remember the name Skip Brown.
Skip is a friend, a retired Delray police officer and a Vietnam veteran. I had the honor of pinning the Bronze Star he earned in combat to his chest a few years back. It was one of the great thrills of my life.
Skip has taught me a lot over the years and he explained the concept of survivors guilt, the idea that you feel pressure and question why you survived while others died.
We spoke on my way to a pulmonologist appointment I had last week. When I walked into the doctor’s office I was told of other patients who died and how lucky I was to have made it considering the violence of my pneumonia and the damage the virus did to my lungs.
Hearing the stories of those who didn’t make it, leveled me. It just leveled me.
It’s important that I share that because you may know someone who gets this virus and it’s important that we be there for them not just with medical care but with spiritual and emotional support as well.
I believe I was spared for a reason. I’m not sure why, but I’m searching for answers.
I’ve been wrestling with what to do with my second chance.
I’ve been told by people I love and respect that the answers will come and I believe they will.
I’m on a path and I have to trust.
So far, several people have come to my rescue. And I believe that there may be some divine intervention involved.
The call from Skip came at just the right time.
A call from Max Weinberg, yes that Max Weinberg, which inspired me and pointed me toward a book I need to read.
Two calls with friends who recommended psalms that are relevant to my experience.
A conversation at work about grace, healing, love and faith.
At the height of my illness, so many people sent messages of love and kindness.
I was overwhelmed; grateful for each and every message of hope. Thankful for every prayer.
I vowed then that I would share my story because I wanted to let people know not only about the virus, but about doctors and nurses, family and friends, prayer and hope, love and friendship.
I experienced the power of community in the midst of a period in our history where we are angry and estranged.
I feel compelled to tell you that love and community feels a lot better than anger and division.
I honestly don’t know what I will do with my second chance.
I’m going to trust in the path laid out for me.
So when the darkness washes over me, when the waves hit, I’m going to keep fighting. I’m going to keep working. I’m going to keep breathing—for as long as I can.
12 October, 2020 3 3 Comments

How To Lead

October 12, 2020 By 3 Comments

An easy to read primer on leadership.

 

I saw an interview with the philanthropist David Rubenstein on Face The Nation recently.
Mr. Rubenstein just released a book on leadership that waits for me patiently on my night stand each evening.
In the book, Rubenstein talks with a variety of successful leaders and distills some of the things they’ve learned along the way.
I was sold on the book by his answer to this question by host John Dickerson.
“What do you look for in a leader?”

DAVID RUBENSTEIN: I’m looking for their ability to focus, their ability to communicate well, their ability to have some sense of priority of what’s most important to them, their ability to inspire people, their ability to rise to the occasion. And I also think humility is important. Anybody that is really a successful leader I think has failed in life. And you have to persist after your failures. But failure gives you some humility.”


Isn’t that cool? I mean, doesn’t that sum it up?
Let’s break it down.
Focus: the best leaders I’ve seen are focused on goals. They don’t get distracted by bright shiny objects and they don’t let distractions throw them off their game. In other words, they don’t major in the minor. A good local example is former Mayor Dave Schmidt.
I learned many things sitting next to David for my first three years on the commission. Mayor Dave was focused on the big picture and always exhibited calm under fire. And he faced some raging ones: protests against the move of Atlantic High School and the discovery that several of the 9/11 terrorists were living in Delray which put an international media spotlight on our town. Regardless of what was thrown at him, Mayor Schmidt kept his eyes on the prize and made sure his fellow commissioners did so as well. 
Communication: Good leaders communicate. They have an ability to explain their positions and views. And they take the time to do so.
I thought former Mayor Tom Lynch did a great job articulating the city’s goals, aspirations and potential when he served from 1990-1996. I was a young reporter back then, assigned to cover city government. I always knew where the city was headed because Tom was a consistent and reliable communicator.
A sense of what’s important: Great leaders want to accomplish something. They don’t seek power for power’s sake. For the good ones, it’s a job to do, not a job to have.
I kept that phrase in my wallet through my term in office. It means that you are willing to lose your seat if it means doing the right thing for the city. Sometimes that means taking positions that are not the most popular at the time but that you know is the right thing to do for the community long term. Great leaders are willing to plant trees knowing they won’t be the ones to enjoy the shade.
An ability to inspire: I’ve seen some good leaders who were lacking in charisma, but that’s not the same as inspiration. A solid steady leader can be quietly inspiring. Why? Because they are solid and steady.
Former Chamber President Bill Wood did have charisma. And he was also very inspiring because he was reliably optimistic, had a wonderful sense of humor and a warmth that made everyone in his presence feel good. Consequently, he made businesses feel good about being in Delray. That’s an intangible that is hard to place a value on.

Rising to the Occasion: Good leaders have a way of meeting the challenges they are presented with. So if tragedy strikes they meet the moment with compassion. If there’s some sort of disaster (man made or natural) they have a way of handling it that calms the community and helps inspire confidence in the future. My local examples for this item are former police chief Rick Overman and former fire chief Kerry Koen. 
Both leaders were battle tested and enjoyed widespread support among the troops and the broader community. So during hurricanes or difficult incidents —which are par for the course in their line of work —they always rose to the occasion and you felt that everything would be OK. Steady hands during stormy seas..invaluable. 
Leaders who rise to the occasion find ways to create wins even when the going gets tough. 
Consequently, if there’s an opportunity they can seal the deal.

Humility and Failure: The best leaders are humble, real, honest and service oriented. I also happen to think a sense of humor is enormously important. The best leaders can admit when they are wrong and are committed to personal and professional growth. They have an ability to evolve. They know they aren’t the smartest person in the room and seek to surround themselves with people they can learn from. I call it intellectual humility. Those that have it can learn from others. Those who think they know it all, really don’t. 
I also think that failure is an important life experience. Failure informs. It keeps us humble and enables us to learn critical lessons. 
A good leader knows that as long as you learn from mistakes and don’t repeat them the experience is not really a failure at all.
As we edge toward national, state and local elections in November and again in March it may be helpful to review this list of traits and see how the candidates measure up. 
 
 

 

7 October, 2020 4 4 Comments

Artists Speak Truth To Power

October 7, 2020 By 4 Comments

We cans sure use some can’t we?

 

John Lennon would have turned 80 this week.

That’s kind of a jarring fact. It’s also jarring that he has been gone as long as he lived, having been murdered outside his home in 1980. He was only 40 years old.
I was 16 when John Lennon died and his shocking loss was a traumatic experience for me and my friends.
It was so hard to fathom—how someone so young, so accomplished, so brilliant and so important could be taken away in an instant.
How could John be gone? He was a Beatle. He had just made a comeback with an album tragically and sadly called “Starting Over.”
How could someone so amazing and important be gone forever?
Forty years later, we all know how fragile life is. Tomorrow never knows, as The Beatles song goes.
When John died, we ventured to Central Park to attend a vigil. It’s a memory I will never forget, hundreds of thousands of grief stricken people gathering to pay tribute to an artist who touched their lives deeply.
And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.
Truer words have never been spoken.
The great ones touch our minds and our hearts. Great music and  great art can make us happy or sad, it can force us to confront truths we are sometimes uncomfortable to acknowledge.
The best artists hang it all out there. John Lennon was not afraid to take risks, he was not content to be trapped in a box and labeled as one of four cute mop tops.
John wanted more. He was daring and that spoke to me even if I winced at some of his work. That’s another characteristic of the truly great. They push their audience. We won’t like everything they do, but it will surely be interesting.
I wonder what John would have been like at 80; what he would have made of today’s scene.
2020 has been quite a year.
We are fighting a pandemic, a recession and confronting racism, inequality and calamitous climate change all at once.
These are the times that we turn to our great artists for insights.
Art can be clarifying, but it seems in 2020 we are lacking clarity.
I may be too old to be be current, but I just don’t see the artists leading the way these days.
They don’t seem to have the cultural relevance that they did back in John Lennon’s day. If I’m wrong, I’d love to know.
Recently, the social critic Bob Lefsetz wrote a piece about artists. It was fascinating.
An artist, Lefsetz wrote:

Endures negative feedback.

Takes risks on a regular basis.

Does not create to satiate the audience but themselves.

Creates because they need to.

Works without the audience in mind.

Knows that they will oftentimes be ahead of the audience.

Knows to ignore their most vocal critics. It’s usually more about the person who is criticizing than the work.

John Lennon did all of those things—-all those years ago.
All I know is we miss that kind of leadership and artistry and we need artists/leaders more now than maybe ever.
5 October, 2020 20 20 Comments

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

October 5, 2020 By 20 Comments

Last week, I went out for a beer.

That’s a big accomplishment around here these days considering my recent travails.
I sat outside at Beer Trade with a friend far away from any other patron on a rainy evening.
I figured I deserved a beer after a summer spent battling Covid.
So I poured a cold glass of Salty Crew ale and relished every drop.
My buddy and I  talked about the presidential debate (train wreck, horrific and sad), local politics (sad, depressing and soap operaish), the economy (scary, volatile and uncertain), Covid (scary, depressing and politicized) and dogs (cute, cuddly and happy).

I relished being out and about in this year of Zoom meetings, remote work and a lengthy stay at Bethesda Hospital.

While the streets were empty due to the gloomy night, we saw local architect Jess Sowards walk by.
Jess is a terrific guy, a talented architect and someone who has quietly done a lot for Delray.
He stopped by—staying socially distant— to greet us, inquire about my health and chat.
It was great to see him.
Simple pleasures.
I appreciate these moments all the more now.
And it got me to thinking about all the special people who make up this magical place we call home.
We talked about Jess’ partner Bob Currie who passed a year ago this month. Bob did so much for this town, especially Pineapple Grove and Old School Square.
Around the same time that we lost Bob, we lost Elizabeth Wesley, a mentor of mine and a heroine to so many. Oh, how we miss Mrs. Wesley.
“Libby” was love. It was just that simple.

She touched so many lives in Delray with her Roots Cultural Festival and by being warm, smart and well… by just being Libby.
Earlier in the day, I was able to speak to Perry DonFrancisco, the former longtime proprietor of Boston’s on the Beach.
Perry makes me laugh and right now it hurts to laugh but it’s also good to experience joy and humor.
Perry delivers both.
He’s an amazing man and I love him.
When I met him more than 30 years ago we were both young guys. Perry gave me hard earned life advice and has always had my back.
 When I was on my back in the ICU, he sent me a series of videos—each related to our friendship and every last one of them kept me going when it was very hard to breathe.
Books can be written about what Perry has meant to the people of Delray. He has done more than anyone could ever quantify.
The best description I ever heard of Perry came from Joe Dragon, who used to be our assistant parks director.
Here’s what he said at a City Commission meeting.
“If we didn’t have a Perry in Delray, we would have to invent him.”
What a great quote.
It’s also true.

Because without Perry, we wouldn’t be Delray.
Which reminds me of my friend former Fire Chief Kerry Koen.
Kerry is so special.
A gifted photographer, well-read, so thoughtful.
Honestly, our conversations inspire half of these blogs.
So if you like them, Chief Koen gets the credit. And if I fall short, it’s because I’m not a good enough writer to capture the richness of the ideas we talk about.
Speaking of rich conversation, there’s a happy hour gang at Caffe Luna Rosa that meets every Friday to discuss the world’s events. Those guys are great gentlemen and over glasses of Johnny Walker Black and delicious food they make this town a richer place.
From parking and sea grapes to presidential politics and the latest movies on Netflix these guys really cover the landscape of life.
There’s also a breakfast crew that I know about that consists of some amazing Delray denizens, the super smart Brian Cheslack, the wonderfully talented Joe Gillie and in pre-Covid times our former assistant city manager Bob Barcinski and former mayors Jay Alperin and Tom Carney.
It’s a very accomplished group. Friends, there is no village as we know it without them.
It’s the special people who make our towns so rich and unique. The concept of a village by the sea has always been about people and how we treat and interact with each other.

These days my mornings are enriched by daily texts I get from retired police officer John Evans. There are no words for John. Every morning, he greets me with a saying, psalm or prayer. He is a big part of my healing. And a great contributor to Delray who is still giving back even eight years into retirement.
John recently went to Tallahassee to celebrate a full clemency for a young man he mentored who will now train to become a Delray police officer. If that young man emulates my friend John Evans, this city will be all the safer and richer as a result. John is the best.

Which brings me full circle—back to the socially distant table at Beer Trade on Fourth Avenue —where I sit talking about all things under the sun with my friend Scott Porten.
He says I never mention him in my writing. Well this is a test to see if he reads to the end.
Will he pass?
I sure hope so, because dear readers Scott is an exceptional guy and a wonderful friend.
Does he make fun of my taste in beer? Of course, he does. So I like beer that tastes like grapefruit? Is that a sin?
And yes, he chafes when I insist on sitting on the left hand side of the table, because I happen to be left handed and don’t want to bother my neighbor with a stray elbow. I think it’s called being courteous.
Does he wince when someone notices a certain someone’s eyelashes? Why, yes he does.
But I’m sure he understands that glaucoma drops can lead to magnificent lashes. After all, he’s  an understanding guy. And very complimentary too. Recently, he called me “the LeBron James of communicable disease.”
In all seriousness, when you face adversity in life—such as fighting a vicious virus—you find out who your friends are.
I learned, happily, that I have many in this town and beyond.
I’m so grateful to write that sentence. I’m so thankful to be alive to write about those friends and share with you how great they are.
I’m proud of them and all they have accomplished.
Running cities, protecting and serving us, giving to charities, volunteering their time to civic endeavors, raising children, adopting dogs, enriching our culture, making sure kids have holiday gifts, designing buildings, running businesses and creating jobs and on and on it goes in a very interesting village on the southeast coast of Florida we call home.
28 September, 2020 13 13 Comments

What’s Wrong With This Picture?

September 28, 2020 By 13 Comments

A culture is strong when people work with each other, for each other. A culture is weak when people work against each other, for themselves. –Simon Sinek

Word came last week that a Delray Beach city employee was cleared of wrongdoing after more than a year of innuendo and uncertainty.

Former Assistant Community Improvement Director Jamael Stewart was given an all clear by the Palm Beach County Ethics Commission. His boss, Michael Coleman, who got caught up in the situation, resigned when this whole thing went down. To date, he’s  never been charged with anything. He’s got a lawsuit pending against the city he served and loved.
But the damage has been done.
Two careers were ended. Two people who have served our city admirably were badly hurt.
And if you care about your town, what happened to Michael and Jamael ought to piss you off. (Excuse my language).
And they are not the only ones who have been hurt in recent years as a wide range of city employees saw their careers and lives upended— in many cases —for no good reason. When I asked a few of them what they were charged with their answer was consistent: they have no idea.
Even today, in the wake of the Ethics Commission ruling, there remains a cloud. What about other agencies some ask? Aren’t they looking too?
Nobody seems to be sure. In fact, there’s a theory that all of this is some bizarre political payback scheme.
And that’s a problem, because this is supposed to be America after all. People should have the right to face their accusers and they should know what their being accused of, especially after more than a year. All of this starts at home, at City Hall with either a demand to resign or a termination order. That’s the good news, because if the problem is local it can be solved with leadership. The buck stops with the commission. Either it tolerates this kind of behavior/culture or it doesn’t. It’s really that simple.
I guess the fate of wrongly accused employees is not as acute an issue as to whether or not the water is safe to drink or whether our infrastructure can handle sea level rise but it’s still a problem.
If you pay taxes and rely on municipal services the quality of city staff is important.

And if you have a culture that eats people up and spits them out it doesn’t take a management degree to understand that it’s going to be hard to attract and keep a talented staff.

I spent seven years on the city commission and have been following local government here and elsewhere for almost 35 years. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that a good staff makes a world of difference and a poor staff can cost you dearly.

Michael and Jamael are good men. They care about this community and they have touched a lot of lives in our city. Many of the people they impacted were young people. A few were heading in the wrong direction before they were mentored by these gentlemen and taught that there was another way.
What’s happened to them—forced out of their positions, maligned and thrown out with the trash—has sent a chilling message to these young people I’ve been told. Here’s what they’re thinking.
If it can happen to department heads, a decorated cop (Mr. Coleman was a police captain before becoming director) what chance do we have?
As a result, I know a few promising young people who have taken their talents elsewhere unwilling to put up with the toxic culture that has taken root at City Hall and permeated every corner of our city. That toxicity has convinced more than a few people to start their lives and careers elsewhere.
Who can blame them? But isn’t that tragic?
And while Michael and Jamael have been the subject of a lot of discussion and publicity because of their high profiles in town, there are others who have suffered by affiliation that we never talk about.
Donna Quinlan, a wonderful person,  worked for the city for 39 years. She was shown the door for no good reason. In fact, for no reason at all.
I guess she was guilty of being Michael’s assistant.
Jennifer Costello, a 31 year employee and another wonderful person, was also forced out for no good reason.
I worked with both Donna and Jen. They were invaluable.
Donna’s husband Tom, served for 30 years in our Police Department. He was a great officer. That family gave 70 years to this city.
Is this the way we should treat people? What message does that send to the other 900 employees?
I’ve seen the pain this kind of treatment causes families. It’s severe. Losing your livelihood, —in many ways your identity— suddenly, publicly and unfairly is a shock to the soul.
Sadly, it’s become fashionable to belittle public servants. We shouldn’t.
We seem to have forgotten that they are people with families, career aspirations, pride in their city and a strong desire to serve.
It’s wrong to hurt them.
We can’t be a good community if we treat people this way.
These kind of situations ought to trigger some deep soul searching.
This cannot be allowed to happen again and the people who have been hurt need to be made whole.
This is a teachable moment but only if we choose to learn and do better.
We should not tolerate a culture that ruins people for no good reason.
Why did this happen?
What kind of culture allows this?
What has changed? Because it wasn’t always like this.
If we just look the other way and carry on as we often do, we won’t figure out a better way.
And there has to be a better way.
A toxic culture is expensive.
Both in terms of legal fees (which we pay as taxpayers) but more importantly in terms of the toll it takes on victims and all who know and love them.
Throwing people away is just not right.
It leaves wounds that never heal and like a virus it affects every pore of our city.
23 September, 2020 20 20 Comments

200,000 lives: A Grim Milestone

September 23, 2020 By 20 Comments

This park in Detroit honors those lost to Covid-19.

 

“Breath is life. When the stakes are high and the challenge is hard, I come to my foundation for answers — breath.” Circus Performer LadyBeast. 
 
I stumbled on this quote while reading a blog about Creative Mornings and it hit me. 
Breath is our foundation.  We stop breathing and we cease to exist. 
I’ve been conscious of breathing for most of my life because I have asthma. So sometimes  breathing can be difficult. 
Every now and then, especially when I’m nervous, I have found myself short of breath. But I have never felt endangered. My asthma was mild. I knew I would feel better quickly. 
But my recent bout with Coronavirus changed my relationship with breathing.

At the height of my illness, I struggled with every breath. My lungs hurt and they weren’t working very well. 
Laying on my back, attached to leads to monitor my heart, a port in my arm and a mask strapped tight over my face I felt like I was drowning. 
I was working hard to get air and it felt as if the virus was suffocating me. Every breath was accompanied  by a painful sharpness. It’s hard to explain but when I inhaled I felt a cutting type pain. 
While I was frightened and afraid to sleep because I didn’t think I’d wake up, I was also keenly aware that I had to fight. 
I couldn’t really speak, but I wanted to yell out and say “no, I’m not letting go.”  
My mind raced from thought to thought. 
“No, I won’t let this be the end” and then “I can’t believe this is the end. I’m only 55. I have a wife and kids and a career and friends. I never said goodbye and I have so much more I want to do.”
I thought of my late mother and my beloved grandparents. I asked them for help. I prayed for G-d’s mercy and I wondered if I was in some sort of dream. 
My mind kept coming back to my mother. She passed at age 59 and missed so much. Now here I was four years younger. I would miss seeing my kids get married, I would miss having grandkids and I would lose all the things I wanted to do once I retired. While tempted to give in and let go, I just refused. 
Breathe. Just breathe. Keep breathing. 
And I did. 
 
 

I’m a little over two months into my Covid odyssey and here’s where I stand (or mostly sit).

 I am still on three liters of oxygen. I can go off for short periods of time, but when I dip below 92 on my pulse oximeter (always by my side) I have to go back to the O2 hose—you don’t want to starve your brain of oxygen.
For the most part my breathing is ok. But sometimes I feel like there’s something stuck deep in my chest. And  I still lack my wind.
My body is sore from what I guess is the therapy I’m doing after 39 days in a hospital bed.
But I also have a stabbing pain in my left thigh. I’ve been applying heat to the leg which also feels numb at times.
The stabbing wakes me some nights.
My neck is also stiff and my tailbone is sore which means that I need to sit on a lot of cushions. My friend Scott bought me a “donut” and I literally can’t live without it.
Best. Gift. Ever.
I’m not really sure if some of my soreness is the residual impact of the virus or the result of being in that hospital bed.
My sleep has been inconsistent, but I am not fatigued like so many Covid patients report.
I am, however, experiencing a fair amount of anxiety. There are some mornings when I feel very jittery. It fades as the day moves forward but I also experience pangs of fear and just overall dread that seems to come at me in waves.
When I get hit with the wave, I try to shift my mind to a positive thought. I’m so lucky that I can call friends or read messages and cards to lift my spirits.
I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of support and love I have received from family and friends. I jokingly told my wife that I feel that I attended my funeral without having to pass.
But boy did I come close and that experience is both real and surreal.
To be honest, I’m still kind of processing the whole experience.
As a news junkie, I’ve always paid attention to what’s happening in the world. But these days, stories about Covid truly affect me on a different level.
The 200,000 plus deaths in America is not just a grim statistic to me; it’s a shockingly real kick in the teeth because I’ve now seen the enormous toll this virus has enacted on our country and on the families left to grieve.
I was one of the lucky ones.
So I wonder: why I was spared?  And I  wonder what I should be doing now that I’ve been given a a second chance. I realize how fragile life is; how easy it could have been to simply stop breathing.
The last few months feels like a dream to me.
I went to get a test at Bethesda Hospital and came home 39 days later.
In between, I wore masks to breathe, had morphine to dull the pain (it barely took the edge off) and struggled to even sit up. I had odd dreams, painful spasms and felt dizzy and disoriented at times. For a few weeks, my eyes burned and there were times when I woke up and wasn’t quite sure where I was. Sometimes things seemed to move in the room. I would see the TV on the ceiling but then realized it hadn’t moved. I was just confused.
I heard screams from a nearby room and thought to myself someone has it worse than me and I prayed they would find relief.
Since coming home I’ve had extensive therapy and it’s helping.
I am slowly getting my strength and stamina back. I came home with a walker and a hospital bed.  Both are gone.
I can climb a flight of stairs but I lose my breath and need a few minutes to recover. But it’s progress.
I am so grateful.
When I wake up I am reminded how fortunate I am to be alive.
I’m more appreciative of my friends, love my wife even more (she’s been my rock), cherish my kids and family and can’t wait to get back to what life has to offer.
I write these words to raise awareness and to urge people to be vigilant and safe.
Last week, we attended a virtual fundraiser to raise money for Bethesda Hospital’s Covid efforts. I was happy to see a brief video of my departure from the hospital as part of the event. The health care heroes that were highlighted that night saved my life and the life of many others. When I left Bethesda, I promised them I would try and spread the word.
And that’s what I plan to do.
I am grateful I have the opportunity to do so.
I’m here because of prayers and the talents of amazing medical professionals. We are blessed to have these people in our community.
Thanks for reading.
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