13 February, 2023 7 7 Comments

Valentine’s Day

February 13, 2023 By 7 Comments

“We need joy as we need air. We need love as we need water. We need each other as we need the earth we share.” – Maya Angelou

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and I’m thinking about love.

I’m listening to the late great Burt Bacharach and Bruce Springsteen and I’m listening to the universe too.

Because when I stop for just a moment, I hear, see, and notice things that I normally miss as I go from meeting to meeting, toggle from call to call and multi-task my way through life.

But when I slow down, I get clarity. I bet you do too.

Here’s what I noticed last week.

We went to see Bruce Springsteen & The E Street Band in Orlando and I was transported once again by an artist I have been listening to since I was a young boy blasting my stereo in my room and dreaming about where life would take me.

His music still resonates, his words still matter.

“With her long hair falling

And her eyes that shine like a midnight sun

Oh she’s the one

She’s the one”

“She’s The One”  was released in 1975, when I was 11.

Back then, I just loved the music—the growl of the guitars, the beat of the drums. It was rock n’ roll and I was hooked.

As I got older, the words began to matter more. They began to mean something. And I started to wonder about the world. I began to dream.

Would I ever find someone who would make me feel —with every fiber of my being —that yes “she’s the one?”

But last week, when Bruce and the band launched into the song,  I looked at my wife and I knew—all over again—that yes “she’s the one.”

Same song. Same words. New emotions.

I slowed down, listened and I heard the magic.

On Thursday morning, I got up early to emcee an event for the Boca Chamber featuring two amazing doctors and the dynamic new CEO of Delray Medical Center.

I’ve done a lot of this kind of stuff over the years, but I still get nervous standing up in front of a large crowd. But it went well, and I was swept away by the passion of these health care professionals who are there for us 24/7/365/.

We heard from an oncologist named Mahdi Taha and a cardiologist named Eric Lieberman and I was moved by the care in their voices, their intelligence, and their message of early intervention. And I thought to myself: “we are so blessed to have these people in our world.”

We need more healers. We have enough dividers.

A few days earlier, a colleague and I made the trip to the Max Planck Florida Institute in Jupiter where a foundation I help manage is funding a fellowship in neuroscience.

We met with three brilliant scientists and an administrator for lunch and conversation. We toured the labs and watched experiments in real time.

It was captivating.

We were blown away by their intelligence, curiosity, and kindness. And I thought “someday we will have an answer for Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s and dementia, thanks to these brilliant minds.”

I am watching a dear friend and hero of mine struggle with Alzheimer’s and I am watching my beautiful and brave wife battle Parkinson’s and I am overcome with love for them and admiration for their strength and grace.

Strength and grace. Oh, how we long to see these traits in our leaders.

As I write this, we are in the middle of yet another brutal and demeaning election season in Delray Beach. Every year, it seems to get worse and worse, more personal, more visceral, in a word: stupid.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think we live in a hell scape.

We don’t.

It’s February and the sun is shining; the temperature is ideal.

We are surrounded by natural beauty, we have cultural and recreational amenities at our fingertips and despite the doom and gloom of the news the future is bright for us in South Florida.

I’m not blind to our challenges—we lack housing, our schools always need help and we have people who suffer from sickness, despair and  a lack of hope and opportunity.

And there is hatred in our society. It’s there.

Racism, antisemitism, misogyny, homophobia—and more.

There are people who wake up every day and live to bully, hurt, and tear down others.

The answer to all these problems and all the bullies out there is love.

I know that sounds trite, but sometimes trite is true.

One more example of what happens when you slow down long enough to notice.

I am on the board of Lynn University. It’s a joy, because the school is cool, innovative and most of all caring. The leadership team works well together. It reminds me of my days at the City of Delray Beach where I would marvel at the relationships between the various parts of our local government.

Where’s there’s trust, where’s there’s collaboration, you will find love and you will find success and progress too.

It’s not rocket science, it’s a simple formula but for some reason so elusive to capture and sustain.

Somehow egos, narcissism and bullies always seem to spoil the punch bowl.

We need to be conscience of these actors. We need to keep them away from the levers of power which they use to cause great and lasting damage. We need to insist on kindness and yes love.

I was on a conference call with Lynn’s President and his leadership team discussing how they engage students, how they try to be there for everyone and how they plan to reach out to local public safety workers to discuss the trauma they experience every day. It’s a team dedicated to serving others, a team dedicated to making the world a better place.

And I found myself energized just to be in their presence.

I noticed.

On this Valentine’s Day, I hope you’ll look around and notice too.

I’ll give my musical muse Bruce Springsteen the last word on this subject.

From the song “Land of Hope and Dreams.”

Grab your ticket and your suitcase

Thunder’s rolling down this track

Well you don’t know where you’re goin’ now

But you know you won’t be back

Well darlin’ if you’re weary

Lay your head upon my chest

We’ll take what we can carry

Yeah, and we’ll leave the rest

Well, big wheels roll through fields where sunlight streams

Meet me in a land of hope and dreams….

9 January, 2023 10 10 Comments

A Case For Grace

January 9, 2023 By 10 Comments

I’ve been thinking about grace lately.

Grace: What a beautiful word.

Sadly, there’s far too little grace in this world. We’d sure be better off if there were more.

We named our golden retriever Gracie because we thought the name was cute. But the name also felt right. Maybe subconsciously we were looking to add a little grace to our lives.

Last week, the Downtown Development Authority held a grand re-opening of the Cornell Museum at Old School Square.

Readers of this blog know how I and some 11,000 others who signed a petition feel about the City Commission’s decision to terminate the lease of the non-profit that created Old School Square and loved the place for 32 years.

The decision and how it was done was the opposite of gracious. It’s been ugly, expensive, and hurtful, in more ways than we can calculate.

The DDA is stepping into the mess created by this town’s toxic politics and while I do not believe government should be running our cultural arts center, we need to be gracious and wish them well.

Personally, I hope they hit it out of the park and then I hope they find a way to create a community organization that will love and give that special place their hearts for years to come. A community non-profit working alongside city government is the secret sauce.

In other words, I hope they can replicate what we’ve lost, which in a word was love.  Love for a place. Love for community.

And so, I think those of us who care about Old School Square should make a statement to that affect. If you love something, you need to root for it to be healthy and successful.

Right now, Old School Square’s campus is not healthy.

The campus seems sad.

The theater will miss yet another season and the classrooms are empty.

Those who love the historic buildings worry about the state of those buildings. Old structures need to be nurtured.  We worry that the buildings are not being tended to. Let’s hope we’re wrong.

But despite what we think of the decision to terminate— by my estimate the worst made by a commission in my 36 years living here—we need to root for the project gifted to us by the efforts of Frances Bourque all those years ago.

We need to cling to the idea of a community gathering place. We need to root for those buildings, that theater, those classrooms, and that museum to come to life and get its soul back.

That doesn’t mean those of us who love Old School Square should give up our fight.

The best way to stand up to a bully is to do what’s right, and in this case, litigating is the only option because our elected “leaders” refuse to meet and talk like we have always done in this town.

Let’s pause for a moment and talk about the lawsuit. OSS Board members have been called “unpatriotic” for suing their own city. As if you should just allow an injustice to happen, pack your bags, thank your bully for allowing you to serve and leave with your tail between your legs as if you are a pledge in the movie “Animal House” being paddled and replying: “thank you sir, may I have another.”

No, thanks.

Capitulating is not patriotism and that’s not loving your city as the board of Old School Square, its patrons, supporters, donors, former employees, and volunteers most surely do. If you love something, you fight for it.

There is no financial upside to this lawsuit for OSS not to mention the stress that accompanies litigation. But there is value in fighting for a cause, even if you lose.

There’s value to standing up against political forces who cut out the public and decide to kill something without a conversation with the community they are supposed to be serving.

But make no mistake about it, lawsuits are terrible.

Lawsuits indicate failure.

Failure to talk.

Failure to compromise.

Failure to use reason and negotiation to come up with a solution to a breach.

In this case, it’s a failure of political leadership that is costing the taxpayers millions of dollars that could have easily been avoided with some—you guessed it: grace.

When OSS offered to settle, a majority of the city commission didn’t even want to hear the details. They refused to consider the offer. They’d rather use your money to pay out of town lawyers than talk with their neighbors.

Every living former Mayor except for Tom Carney (who served for a few weeks) dating to Doak Campbell through Cary Glickstein signed a letter asking simply for the city to meet and talk with their partners of 32 years. Just talk.

Like we’ve always done; like we’ve always been able to do in what we used to call the “Delray Way.”

The OSS Board was not merely a “tenant” or a “management company”, they were the creators of what had been Delray Beach’s signature civic project. These are the people who birthed a community based cultural arts center that created a renaissance for our downtown and for our city. Pre Old School Square, Delray had been suffering from blight, vacancy and neglect before Frances Bourque and others sparked a movement.

That a civic icon has ended up on the “outs” forced to litigate the city she has served passionately says all you need to know about Delray Beach in 2023.

She is joined by a group of wonderful people who have served this town well for decades. Their hearts are broken.

A place striving to be a community would recognize this hurt and do something about it.

As of the writing of this blog, nobody has called Frances Bourque in over a year.

We’re not talking about a call to help fix the breach, discuss the future, or get some tips (which people in this city can surely use because they have sure made a mess of things). But just to say, “thank you”, or “I’m sorry for your pain.”

When the DDA got the job, they didn’t call. They should have.

My peeps call it being a mensch. A mensch, in Yiddish, is a person of integrity, morality and dignity; someone with a sense of what is right. But the term mensch is more than just an old Yiddish adage. It is relevant across the world because we are suffering from the actions of nihilists, narcissists and nincompoops. Just look at Congress.

To be a mensch is to be supportive; to be a friend, to be calm in troubled times and do the right thing.

It means showing grace.

A call doesn’t cost us anything, but it’s meaningful.

It doesn’t compromise a lawsuit and it doesn’t take hours of your day, but it would mean something if it was a sincere acknowledgement, not just a check the box gesture

Grace and gratitude matter.

Accountability also matters.

OSS has tried to own its mistakes. It has never made a representation that it was perfect. Contrary to what you’ve been told, documents that were asked for were produced (of course, the authorities kept moving the bar) and audits, while late (during a pandemic when the auditor quit), were clean.

Instead of sitting down and airing issues, like over 11,000 petitioners asked this city to do, we chose to do the opposite.

And that’s costly for us as taxpayers. That’s why you should care. That’s why you should vote.

For the folks saying move on, well tell that to the taxpayers footing the bill for all this dysfunction.

For all the money given to OSS over the years, the return on investment was many, many times greater. In fact, the money given to OSS were grants, awarded after services asked for were rendered.

OSS paid 75-80 percent of the costs and did all the work year after year.

Now, we the taxpayer, are on the hook for 100 percent of the costs. This includes millions to finish renovations that were already paid for by a generous donor who pulled her money mid-construction when the organization she supported was kicked to the curb without public input or even an agenda item. How many other generous donors who may have given to our library, Arts Garage or other non-profits looked at what happened and decided to keep their checkbook on the sidelines? Is it safe to donate to a local non-profit that works with city government?

So how do we hold people to account?

Sometimes in court and always at the ballot box and word has it that there’s an election in March.

Either venue doesn’t guarantee justice or accountability. Our system is far from perfect and bad actors sometimes get rewarded. But the long arc of history has a way of bending toward justice. Karma also plays a role.

Still, we can’t forget about graciousness.

The DDA is a capable organization, but building a community is a people business and someone from that organization should call and thank Frances Bourque, long time president Joe Gillie and  other key contributors who gave us the gift that is Old School Square. They should also call Margaret Blume, the generous donor whose gift of $1.6 million enabled the renovation of the Cornell Museum. It seems like the plaque honoring that donation was removed by someone before the re-opening of the museum.

Maybe it will be put back. It should be.

As I write this, I got a text saying that the DDA will be updating the history of OSS and will acknowledge donors. New wording should be up next week. That’s good news. But I hope the phone rings at Frances’ house because without her input I don’t know how that history could be complete or accurate.

It would have been nice to acknowledge these key players opening night. That’s when the crowds show up, the speeches are made, and the Instagram videos are posted. Alas, that opportunity came and  went. Like so many opportunities we keep missing to heal, to build community.

Absent the most recent opportunity, we can always place a call.

Again, it has nothing to do with a lawsuit and everything to do with being gracious. It has everything to do with showing empathy and respect for people who have done a lot for this town.

The hardworking team at the DDA deserves our support. We all have a rooting interest in their success as they take on this important mission.

We show grace by our well wishes.

We help to heal a community if that graciousness is reciprocated.

12 December, 2022 2 2 Comments

Where Everybody Knows Your Name…

December 12, 2022 By 2 Comments

Delray Lakes has been home for more than 20 years.

Our neighbors moved recently.

Whenever friends leave it’s a mixed bag; you’re happy for their new start but you’re sad to see them go. The special people in our lives make all the difference.

The special places also play a significant role in our happiness.

We live in a special place called Delray Lakes.

We’re blessed with a terrific location—close to so much but tucked away and quiet too.

If I can get across Lake Ida Road and make a left, I can be downtown in five minutes. My street has a tree canopy that is beautiful, the homes and lawns are well-kept and if you don’t pressure wash your driveway…well let’s just say you’ll hear about it from the management company.

But the true strength of our neighborhood are the neighbors themselves. We live alongside very nice people.

In a world that often feels crazy, there’s no underestimating the value of having good neighbors who care for each other. In short, we are lucky, and we know it.

When I was a kid, we moved around a little bit.

I went to four elementary schools and looking back it did me a world of good. As the perennial new kid in school, I learned to make friends and that has served me well. But I also think it has unconsciously made me want to be more rooted and truth be told, I’m sensitive to change.

We lived in suburbia— suburban Long Island to be precise, in tract housing built by Levitt Homes, the inventor of the burbs.

Suburbia takes a beating in some of the circles where I spend time– namely new urbanists and city lovers— many who think that the burbs are boring. Now, I love my urban oriented friends and share their passion for cities. But when it comes to suburbia a few of them are misguided.

While I embrace the concepts espoused by the new urbanists and am a fan of walkability, density done right and beautifully designed streets, I must admit that I had a great time in the suburban neighborhoods I’ve lived in.

Intellectually, I understand that the neighborhoods of my childhood weren’t the most efficient use of land. I recognize that subdivisions can be isolating and that they force you into a car for just about everything, but when I was a kid we spent our lives outdoors, we knew our neighbors well and every time I stepped out my door I could find a pickup game of basketball, baseball or football.

We were hardly ever lonely and hardly ever bored. And the Levitt Homes I lived in: Strathmore Village in what is now South Setauket and the “M” section (where every street started with the letter M) in Stony Brook were full of friendly neighbors who looked out for each other.

And we had plenty of interesting characters everywhere we roamed. The house just beyond my backyard was occupied briefly by the writer Sloan Wilson, who wrote “The Man in the Gray Flannel Suit” and “A Summer Place.” Both were made into movies. I knew his daughter well, but I don’t ever recall seeing the man himself, which made it even more romantic for me—a budding writer. Over in the “S” section, where my best friends lived (and where the streets all started with…you guessed it…the letter S) the future comedian Kevin James was a year behind us in school. He played football and was a good Little League pitcher. In fact, he once hit me with a pitch so hard that I was hurting for weeks.

There were others too…stickball legends, a kid who had a beard in the 6th grade and plenty of bushes where we used to stash warm cases of Tuborg beer that we somehow got our hands on.

We stayed outside late on summer evenings talking under the streetlights, shooting hoops in our friend’s driveways, and talking endlessly about girls, cars, sports, music and the future.

I wish I could go back to that sweet and innocent time for just a bit. To quote Andy Bernard from The Office: “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”

Our home in the M Section. Buyers used to be able to purchase a Levitt home for $500 down. Today, these homes are over $600,000 and over 50 years old.

Delray Lakes reminds me of those neighborhoods. The neighbors play Mah Jong together, take walks, know each other’s dogs, play pickleball, go to the pool and look out for each other.

We watch the local kids grow like weeds, we kvetch about neighborhood maintenance issues, and we wave to each other and sit at the end of our driveways at Halloween greeting the little ones.

The place just feels good.

In a world that often feels like it’s gone off its axis, you can’t put a price on feeling good.

So, when neighbors move it’s a big deal. And right now, there’s a mini transition occurring.

As time passes, our needs change. Some move to more affordable locations (South Florida has become an expensive place to live and our location east of 95 means ridiculously high property insurance rates). Others move because the kids are grown, or they need to be closer to family.

It all adds up to change and transitions, which while necessary and unavoidable, are almost always bittersweet.

I will miss my neighbors who moved and a few others whose homes are for sale. We will stay in touch with some, lose touch with others and we will embrace the new neighbors who move in, but it won’t be quite the same.

When I lived in Strathmore Village, I knew everyone on at least three streets near my house. I knew every kid, every dog, every basketball backboard. We knew each other’s parents and they knew us too.

This was my experience, and it was a good one. The experience I had shaped my life.

I was six when we moved to Redwood Lane in Strathmore Village, and one day a little boy named David rode his bike to my street and saw me outside.

Dave had baseball cards to trade and that was all it took. We’ve been talking ever since that day, 52 years and counting. Through all those elementary schools, through the awkward junior high “wonder years”, through our rollicking high school years, through college, first jobs, marriage, kids and many more moves. Dave to Wisconsin, me to Delray Beach.

Through cancer and Covid, the death of parents and grandparents we know the ups and downs of each other’s lives.

We kept talking. (And I occasionally get a word in).

And it all started as neighbors in Strathmore Village.

When we moved to Stony Brook, that same neighborhood experience happened.

I’m afraid that the concept of neighborhood and neighbors that I knew and cherished may be heading to the dustbin of history.

Both the Financial Times and the New York Times had stories just last week about more and more people living alone.

Young people in their 20s and 30s who live by themselves and often work remotely, (my kids among them) and folks over 50 who have never married or are widowed or divorced.

Apparently, this takes a toll on our mental and physical health.

We are social creatures, not meant to be alone.

One town in the U.K. is experimenting with trained conversationalists. They have set up tables in cafes and designated park benches where if you sit down a trained “talker” will be there to engage you.

Apparently, it’s working. People who participate seem to respond.

But while that’s good news, I can’t help but feel a little sad that it has come to this.

But not in my neighborhood.

I’m not home a lot and when I am, I relish my couch time. But just outside my door, are neighbors I know, like and trust. They are living their lives too, but I’m pretty sure they know that what we have is  special and so when one of us leaves the Lakes…well…it’s a big deal.

As it should be…

28 November, 2022 4 4 Comments

The Last Newspaper

November 28, 2022 By 4 Comments

Ken Tingley has written a love letter to the local newspaper.

A few weeks back, I wrote about cleaning out a junk drawer and finding an old Delray Times newspaper from 1995.

I worked for that paper for about a decade from 1987 to 1996 when I left to start my own education newspaper.

I’ve been blessed with a lot of interesting and great jobs/roles in my life, but none better than being a reporter for the old South Florida Newspaper Network.

It wasn’t the pay (we made very little money).

It wasn’t the perks. (There were none unless you count free parking).

It was the people and the job itself.

Newsrooms attract funny, smart, talented, creative, and idealistic souls.  It was a joy to work with them in a wide-open office where every day was an adventure.

You get to hear about the interesting stories your colleagues are working on, the colorful characters they are chasing and the “you can’t make this stuff up” things you see when it’s your job to report what’s going on in town.

I know it’s fashionable to bash the press these days. “Fake news” is the latest adorable saying meant to undercut the credibility of the only industry protected by our Constitution. It is protected because a free press is essential to a Democracy.

I’ve been on both sides of the pen so to speak. I spent years as a journalist covering people making news and I’ve been written about, which is far less fun.

I’ve seen amazing reporters and I’ve seen some bad ones, but there’s no doubt in my mind that a free press keeps us a free people.

I’ve been thinking about the role of local newspapers a lot these days.

When I moved to South Florida in 1987, Delray Beach was covered by four newspapers: The Sun-Sentinel, The Palm Beach Post, The Boca Raton News and the Monday-Thursday Papers (my alma mater and the precursor to the South Florida Newspaper Network). On big stories, the Miami Herald came to town.

You had to work hard not to know what was going on in Boca and Delray.

And the level of coverage spurred civic engagement. More people voted. More people attended Commission meetings (they weren’t at 4 p.m. when anyone who works can’t attend) and more people volunteered because they knew what was going on and when you know what’s happening, you’re more likely to want to be involved.

Everyone knew their city commissioners, county commissioners, school board members and state legislators. They attended charettes and visioning conferences, they showed up to protest or support projects and they relied on the local papers for information. In other words, there was a community  ‘water cooler’ and local reporters competed fiercely for readers, so you saw a lot of “enterprise” reporting not just dry meeting coverage.

In hindsight, it was a golden age. Not only for newspapers but for civic engagement. We never thought it could end.

But it did.

Not with a big crash, but with a slow-motion agonizing fade that saw newspapers shrivel up, or in the case of the Boca News—die. Even the vaunted Monday-Thursday Papers went away.

My friends in community journalism found other careers in public relations, marketing, advertising and sometimes in fields that had nothing to do with writing or communications. One former senior newsroom guy that I knew, ended up living in his car in a Boca Raton parking lot. The last time I saw him, he had his arm broken by someone who tried to rob him while he slept. We met and he was offering to sell me memorabilia from his career. It was a sad and terrible end to what had been a good run.

But as much as the people in the field suffered and were forced to reinvent themselves, the communities they covered suffered as well and continue to pay the price.

Today, there is no water cooler.

We have Facebook which often spreads misinformation, one monthly newspaper that has an odd bent (in my opinion), a few lifestyle magazines, a few newsletters (one is anonymous which undercuts its credibility) and a podcast or two with limited audiences.

We are poorer because our newspapers have gone away. The Sun Sentinel and Palm Beach Post are sad shells of their past versions, and the few reporters around don’t seem to have any history in our community. We lose something real and valuable when institutional memory becomes forgotten history. Coverage suffers without context; it’s like coming into a movie that’s half over and pretending to know the plot.

I recently finished a wonderful book called “The Last American Newspaper” by Ken Tingley. It’s a poignant book that tells the sad story of The Post-Star, an award winning newspaper in Glens Falls, N.Y.

The paper was a local powerhouse and even won a Pulitzer Prize for its editorials, an almost unheard-of victory for a small newspaper.

But the Post-Star was ambitious and committed to the community it served for over a century. The newsroom—led by Mr. Tingley— reported the news fairly and accurately, surfacing important issues from teenage drinking and domestic violence to homelessness and the financial troubles of the local hospital, which also happened to be a major advertiser.

Because the Post-Star did its job so well, the paper sparked important conversations that often led to meaningful change.

But over time, as the Internet came to dominate, the Post-Star lost revenue and no longer had the resources to produce the in-depth journalism that communities need to thrive.

The diminishment of local journalism is an important issue that needs to be addressed by every community in America. But especially here, in fast moving complicated South Florida.

I’ve long believed that it is easier to find out what is going on in Kabul, than it is to find out what’s happening at City Hall. That’s not good if you value community and if you care about your tax dollars.

Rogues thrive in the darkness where brave reporters once shined a light.

I don’t have any answers. In my opinion, nobody does.

I keep tabs on my old profession and see a few promising seeds: local newsletters that sell subscriptions, online newspapers, city-oriented podcasts etc. But there’s nothing like a newspaper. The magic of opening something you can touch and discovering something interesting and noteworthy.

We will lose a lot when the last newspaper vanishes. We already have.

 

 

14 November, 2022 2 2 Comments

The Ties That Happily Bind

November 14, 2022 By 2 Comments

Rex’s Hairstyling has been a community institution and a source of community for close to 40 years.

I miss the movies.

I miss newspapers.

I miss magazines.

I miss bookstores.

I miss albums (and getting lost in a great record store).

I miss civility.

I miss the America I knew in the 70s and 80s. But I’m still filled to the brim with patriotism.

I miss sleep.

I miss endless summers.

I miss boring hurricane seasons.

I miss Blood’s Groves.

I miss Ken and Hazel’s.

I miss seeing my buddy Perry at Boston’s on the Beach.

I miss 32 East.

I miss Chip Stokes at St. Paul’s.

I miss listening to stories in Mr. and Mrs. Pompey’s living room.

I miss Joe and Carolyn Gholston.

I miss visits with Libby Wesley.

I miss Sister Mary Clare’s brogue.

I miss roasts. (And when this town had a sense of humor).

I miss charrettes.

I miss optimism.

I miss the sense that anything was possible.

Because it was.

 

Celebrating A Friend

A few months back, I wrote a tribute to Karyn Premock who died tragically in an accident in Tennessee. https://yourdelrayboca.com/remembering-our-friend/

Karyn, who used to work at Rex’s Hairstyling, is beloved in Delray Beach. She touched so many lives.

I had the honor of speaking at her “celebration of life” at The Dunes over the weekend. The place was packed, and it could have been filled four times with the number of people who wanted a chance to mourn and celebrate.

Karyn is missed. I find myself thinking about her often, especially when I pass her old house in Lake Ida on the way to the park near the Delray Playhouse.

The celebration was closure for many of us, but it’s still difficult to reconcile that she’s gone. One minute you’re here…the next your gone. It’s sobering but also clarifying because it’s important to cherish the people who enrich our lives and communities.

We live in coarse times.  And you have to ask why?

Why?

Karyn was a bright light. She made us smile. You can’t put a price on what that’s worth. Her warmth, her energy, her caring made a real and lasting difference.

Earlier in the week, we learned that Rex’s will be closing Dec. 30.

Another Delray institution passing into the history books and memory banks.

Words cannot express how special a place Rex’s has been. How important it has been to this community. The scene of countless first haircuts, endless conversation, loud laughs and love. Lots and lots and lots of love.

When you walk through the doors you got more than a haircut, you got community.

The special people who work there adore each other and their customers. In today’s often toxic world, you can’t put a price on that.

Karyn created a family in that shop. She leaves behind a legacy of love and warmth.

So does Rex’s Hairstyling.

We need more of these great places….

Untimely Loss

Speaking of untimely loss, we were stunned to hear the news of Anthony “Rumble” Johnson’s death over the weekend.

The MMA legend was a neighbor for a few years and always kind and friendly to everyone, especially the children in our neighborhood who loved his big truck. He died after an illness at 38.

Rest In Peace.

 

I’m glad the Election is over.

What a waste of money…what an exercise in (fill in the blank).

I don’t care what side of the divide you’re on, all of us were inundated with an endless barrage of mud that did not offer a single thoughtful solution or a way forward, only reasons why should we fear/hate each other.

Let’s hope the upcoming municipal elections in March will offer us more substance.

There are real issues to discuss; the Delray bond issue, water issues, what do with Old School Square, where to site a new fire station now that we are losing our long term (and mutually beneficial arrangement with Highland Beach), issues at City Hall, workforce housing, dispirited non-profits because of attitudes at City Hall and the CRA’s politicization and implementation of draconian terms to accept grants.

As for the election results, it was a monumentally consequential election for Palm Beach County.

A political earthquake.

Reliably blue Palm Beach County turned red. Not only did Gov. Ron DeSantis beat Charlie Crist but two prominent Democrats lost County Commission races.

County Mayor Bob Weinroth lost his seat to newcomer Mari Woodward and longtime civic leader Michelle McGovern lost her bid for a commission seat as well.

While both races surprised me, the Weinroth loss was a stunner.

Bob was a hardworking and highly visible elected official with lots of experience in city and county government.

I went to his opponent’s website to learn more, and she seemed to be a one-issue candidate with lots of words about Covid lockdowns. It will be interesting to see how she performs.

But it’s clear to me, that experience matters less than the team you’re on. You are either a D or an R. And neither side will consider voting for the candidates outside their tribe.

In those kinds of races, money (Weinroth had a bunch) matters less than turning out your team.

Personally, I don’t understand why the County Commission is a partisan body.

And love him or loathe him, Governor DeSantis had some serious coattails.

 

25 July, 2022 8 8 Comments

Community & Connections

July 25, 2022 By 8 Comments

“ What should young people do with their lives today? Many things, obviously. But the most daring thing is to create stable communities in which the terrible disease of loneliness can be cured.” – Kurt Vonnegut

Don’t you love that quote?
I’ve been thinking about loneliness lately. 
It’s been two years since I recovered from Covid after spending 39 days in isolation at Bethesda Hospital. 
For me, and for millions of others, Covid was a profound experience. The virus changed our world, altered our society and ended and upended the lives of so many people all over the world. 
But even though I was isolated in the hospital I was never alone. I had a community behind me. What a blessing that was. I believed it saved me. 
I’m reliving the power of community this week through the magic of Facebook memories. 
Throughout my hospitalization, I received a steady barrage of encouraging messages and prayers from the community. It was powerful and profound. I’ve been moved all over again just by scrolling through the memories. 
The power of community. What a beautiful thing to behold. 
I saw it again last week when I tuned in remotely to watch the funeral service of former City Commissioner Bob Costin. 
We are deeply saddened by the loss of Bob who was beloved by so many. 
But we are also reminded of the example he set. His was a life of service and dedication to family, friends, country and community. 
Bob loved the community he built here in Delray, at his lake house in Georgia and among fellow RVers and florists. 
Community enriched him, strengthened him and in turn he gave his communities so much. 
Pat Canning, who we lost last week, also understood the power of community and service as did her late husband Vince Canning, who was a legendary civic leader. 
Watching Bob’s funeral and reading tributes to Mrs. Canning, I was reminded of our better angels and better times.  
Across town, our City Commission was meeting and while I don’t watch those meetings I was sent a clip that bothered me. The clip showed a local philanthropist who gave $2 million to Old School Square standing before our elected representatives and wondering aloud why her donation was squandered (the project she funded was not completed when the commission voted 3-2 to terminate Old School Square’s lease after 32 years of service and community building). Margaret Blume, that generous philanthropist, is a wonderful person. If you watch the clip, you can’t help but notice the hurt and disbelief in her voice. She was never thanked. The theater and museum she loves both sit dark. The community she hoped to be benefit with her generosity , is not being served by vacant buildings. 
Friends, we need to tend to our community. We need to repair the parts of the fabric that have been torn. 
We need to honor the memories of our civic leaders who understood that service, love, respect, dialogue and kindness are building blocks that create great and happy places. 
We long to live in a community that wraps its arms around us. It’s a choice. We can do it.  But we need to be intentional about what we want to be. 
At that same commission meeting, a citizens group of which I am a part, led by former Fire Chief Kerry Koen told the commission about a plan to honor the late Alfred “Zack” Straghn, one of Delray’s civic heroes, with a plaque outlining his tireless efforts to make our community a better and more inclusive place. 
The idea seemed to be embraced. That’s a good thing. A start. 
We have so much work ahead of us. 
We may or may not be able to heal the divisions affecting our wonderful country. But I hope we will. 
We cannot bring back those lost to a brutal pandemic. But I pray we can heal those suffering from the lingering effects of long Covid and I hope we can comfort the families of those who lost loved ones. 
I also hope that we will spend some time thinking about those who serve our community as volunteers. 
Volunteers are precious commodities. 
They don’t volunteer for the glory or the credit, they give back because they love something. 
They deserve our thanks and our respect. 
That’s not controversial, that’s basic. 
To come full circle. Take another look at that Vonnegut quote. 
We live in a society of devices. We are buried in our phones, wrapped in headsets and ear buds. 
We work remotely. We date by scrolling through photos on an app. We get our news in silos that agree with our particular beliefs. 
These days we have our own set of facts and we fail to trust institutions we once banked on. 
It’s a recipe for loneliness. 
But the antidote  to loneliness is community. 
It’s a time to reconnect. It’s time to rebuild. It’s time to say thank you. 
It means everything. 
Two years ago, this community wrapped it arms around me and my family. It made all the difference and I’m forever grateful.
I’ve experienced the benefits and I’ve seen the downside when community erodes.
There’s no comparison. Community heals. 
 
 
11 July, 2022 2 2 Comments

New Vistas…

July 11, 2022 By 2 Comments

Greetings from Portland, Maine.

Almost exactly two years ago, Covid almost took me out.
Laying in an ICU bed struggling for every breath,
I began to think about my bucket list.
I don’t know if you have a list but I suspect that you do. Most people I know have a wish list for their lives and as you get older you begin to think about a concept called QTR: or quality time remaining. How do you want to spend the time you might have remaining, knowing of course, that nothing is guaranteed?
After all, I never dreamt my life might end as a result of a virus discovered in a Wuhan, China wet market.
So as I lay there wondering if I’d ever go home, I began to think.
What did I want to do with my quality time remaining if I was granted a Covid reprieve?
My list was relatively short and I think fairly modest: an escape place in Maine and another golden retriever.
Oh, there’s many other things I aspire to do in business and life and I’m out there trying, but time in New England away from the Florida heat and humidity and falling for another golden were at the top of my list.
And thanks to my wife Diane, both have happened.
I’m very grateful. Especially for Diane and for Gracie, our beautiful golden and our new townhouse tucked in the woods in the West End of Portland.
So,  I urge you, my friends, to find your bliss and go for it, if it all possible.
Because life is fragile and time is finite and self care is important.
This blog consistently extols the importance of community and giving back and that’s something I try to do and enjoy doing.
But in order to give, we have to have gas in our tanks and sometimes we need to replenish.
For me, stepping away for a few weeks is a start. The change of scenery has been good so far.
You see new things, breathe different air and you feel your perspective change.
Of course, I miss my friends and my favorite haunts but I’m going to lobby my friends to visit and missing those favorite places only makes me appreciate them even more.
So I encourage you to think about your QTR and to try to make the best of your days.
Today, more than ever, it’s easy to stay connected to home, work, loved ones etc. But it’s also important to refuel, renew and restore.
I wish you all three and abundant health as well.
27 June, 2022 33 33 Comments

Remembering Bob….

June 27, 2022 By 33 Comments

Bob with Lori Levinson, Diane Colonna, Mr. and Mrs. Bobby Musco, Jon Levinson and Ron Hoggard during a conference out west.

On paper, Bob Costin and I shouldn’t have been friends.

He was tall. I’m short.

He loved the Red Sox, I love the Yankees.

He was a Republican, I’m a Democrat.

He wasn’t keen on Chinese food and loved lobster. I live for orange chicken and can’t even look at a lobster.

Bob Costin was 30 years older than me when we lost him last week. He lived a long and very good life, but losing him sure does hurt.

He’s family.

Diane and I love Bob and his lovely wife Sonya.

We are not alone.

Everyone who knew Bob —and there were many —loved him.

He was warm, funny, optimistic, smart, sensitive, caring, open-minded and lived one heck of a life.

Bob when he was president of FTD at the White House with Betty Ford. This image is in the Ford Presidential Library.

Bob and Sonya owned Costin’s florist in downtown Delray for decades and Bob became president of FTD, rising to the top of his profession. He travelled the world for FTD and was famously in Iran when the Shah was overthrown. He and his contingent had to run through the airport to escape when the country fell to the Ayatollah.

He told stories with gusto and wit and we hung on every word. I will miss those stories.

And I’ll miss the calls when we discussed the news of the day. We were different people from different generations but we always found common ground.

Diane grew close to Bob when he served as a CRA commissioner. He was a really good CRA commissioner and very supportive of staff and his fellow commissioners.

He would later run for and serve a term on the City Commission. I had the pleasure of sitting next to Bob on the dais. We called him the “high commissioner” in deference to his 6’5” height.

I relied on Bob. I truly did.

I valued his experience and his common sense wisdom.

He was the opposite of me in terms of temperament, and I needed his quiet mentoring.

He was calm, I was high strung. He had decades of perspective; I was still a young man in my 30s.

You can see Bob’s nameplate in this shot. He was a calming influence on the dais.

Having Bob on the commission gave us confidence and I knew he had my back. He had a sparkle in his eye when he looked at you that put you at ease even during the tensest of moments.

I knew he believed in what we were doing and that gave me comfort. He had a gentle way of framing issues and injecting humor and common sense into the conversations we were having with each other and with the community.

We were change agents. We were moving things forward, making noise, pushing ideas and driving hard and fast. But we were also having fun—largely because of Bob.

He set the tone.

And he calmed the waters too.

Bob would amble over to The Green Owl every morning where there used to be a table of civic fathers (all men, no women) who sat and held court.

I liked all the men who sat at the table—Ernie Simon, Mayor Leon Weekes, Charlie Gwynn, Ken Ellingsworth, Bob Miller, and a few others. All civic giants; all long-term players.

I think most were OK with me, but I wasn’t a peer. I wasn’t one of them. Bob was.

And if they had a beef with a decision we made, Bob explained the rationale behind the vote and smoothed the waters.

He knew how to lead with grace. Even when he disagreed with you; he was affable. He showed respect for others and he was respected by all as a result.

Bob Costin was old school.

A flip phone. No email.

When we would comment on the large volume of emails we were getting on a hot issue, Bob would smile.

“I didn’t get any,” he would say. “My modem must be down.”

And then he would laugh, that big, garrulous, wonderful and warm laugh.

I wish I had a dollar for every time he used the “modem” line which was always followed by that laugh.

I liked so much about Bob, but I loved three things the most.

First, his hunger for knowledge and his ability to keep an open mind.

Sometimes people of a certain vintage get a reputation of being closed off to change. Not Bob. He was willing to try things. Willing to take a leap.

“We have to keep up with the times,” he’d say. “People will understand.”

Bob and Diane in front of the Costin’s rock star RV.

I also loved how much he was devoted to Sonya, a teacher who ended up working alongside Bob at the florist. They were quite a pair, married for 65 years.

They did so much together. Travel, RV adventures, a dream lake house in Georgia and an occasional Red Sox game. Ugh, those Red Sox.

Bob would call me if the Sox beat the Yankees and rub it in.

I was not above giving it back to him.

When we invited Bucky Dent to get a proclamation on the 25th anniversary of his epic home run to beat the Sox at Fenway in 1978, Bob whipped out a Red Sox cap as Bucky came to the mic.

It was an epic moment. And everyone, including Bucky, laughed.

They traded some good natured barbs and a special moment was made immortal.

Bob used to joke that he lived on Federal Highway before living on Federal Highway was cool.

The Costin’s had a cottage on U.S. 1 where Putt N Around now sits. He lived there before the townhomes made the neighborhood fashionable.

His cottage was moved and is now an office in the Old School Square Historic Arts District.

I drive by it frequently and last week when I passed by, I got a lump in my throat.

I remember Bob calling from Georgia and asking about his house after a hurricane. Would I go by and check on it?

Sure, Bob.

Of course, I would tell him that it was gone, trying my best to sell that story, but all I heard was that laugh.

“You know Jeff,” he would say. “I would’ve emailed you, but my modem is down.”

Bob served two years on the commission, opening a seat for Rita Ellis to secure. Rita would follow me as mayor.

We continued to stay in touch, often going to dinner—but never Chinese.

“Next time, Jeff,” he would say.

So, we kept going to Longhorn and a few times to Il Girasole.

We talked Delray. We talked national news. We met up at a wedding in Italy. We met Bob and Sonya’s  RV friends and we avoided Chinese food and email. And we talked about my kids.

And that’s my third favorite thing about Bob. He was genuinely concerned for your kids and family. He adored Commissioner Jon Levinson and his wife and their three daughters and attended many a dinner at their home, including holidays.

When I got Covid, Bob, who finally got a smart phone, texted me encouraging words. Every single day.

Don’t give up. He wrote.

You’ll be ok. He texted.

And I didn’t. And I was. Eventually.

Lately, Bob was sick.

Diane and I went to see him. He smiled. He looked different but still had that wonderful voice. His last words to us was “I love you guys.”

We said it back.

And now that he’s gone, I realize something. Bob’s modem was never down.

A modem is a device that that is used to transmit and receive information.

That was our Bob.

He brought us information from a place of goodness, kindness and love.

Love for people, love for community, love for Delray Beach.

We will miss this man. He was the high commissioner, a wonderful man and a friend to so so many.

We love you Bob.

The Costin’s in Georgia with Chuck and Pam Halberg.

18 April, 2022 4 4 Comments

Opportunities….

April 18, 2022 By 4 Comments

We have a year.

Actually, a little less than a year.

In March 2023, voters in Delray Beach will vote for two commission seats. Close readers of this blog know where I stand. In case you may have missed how I feel (I am very, very subtle) I believe we need change–wholesale change.

A discussion of what kind of change will have to wait for another day. But let’s just say we need deep transformative change. I hope that is subtle enough.

But for now, I think it’s important to think about how we choose our leaders and why we vote the way we do, or in some cases why we don’t vote at all.

This is a subject I’ve been thinking about a lot lately and talking to friends about.

All of us seem to have an opinion on the political process and the quality (or lack thereof) of candidates. But I couldn’t seem to find anyone who really had new ideas about how to improve the process or increase the quality of the talent pool.

So, I went looking and I ended up where I frequently do—with the writings of Otis White.

Otis (I can call him that because we know each other) is a respected urban affairs writer who used to cover cities for Governing Magazine. He has a great website full of ideas based on his experience as a journalist and consultant working for cities large and small. Here’s a link www.otiswhite.com

I got to know Otis when he did a few pieces on Delray Beach.

He’s a great guy, a wonderful writer and his articles plumb the depths of his subjects where insights often hide. I must approach his website with caution though, because if I’m not careful, I will get lost for days.

Anyway, Otis did a piece on finding a better way of judging candidates.

He recommends a Consumer Reports type process in which voters can rate candidates based on a set of criteria they value.

Otis argues that this method could encourage voters to think about what makes a good candidate for local office. The process would also be fairer because everyone is judged against a set of reasonable criteria.

But what’s the criteria?

Easy: political positions and personal qualities.

Positions aren’t hard to figure out.

Tell us where you stand on things like taxes, infrastructure, and growth. Candidates can also be judged on their general qualifications (vision, experience, and ability to get things done.) They can also be rated on their understanding/commitment to key issues.

But personal qualities are harder to define.

In Otis’ example, gleaned from his experience in Atlanta, citizens may want to look at three attributes:

Does the candidate have a vision for the city and a personal vision of what he or she can accomplish in a three-year term?

Does the candidate have a set of experiences and qualifications that could make them effective as an elected official?

Can he or she accomplish the things they want to do? In other words, once in office, do they have the skills to drive the vision?

I think this is a solid start.

But you also need a vehicle to get the message to the voters. And that’s the hard part.

Is there an organization that most people trust? Or will that organization be labeled as yet another special interest?

In my opinion, there is an opportunity—a market niche and a need—to create a non-partisan civic organization that can stand for good government, strong values, civility, and progress. Not everyone would embrace it, but if it is seen over time as an organization that stands for the things that many of us embrace (and long for), then it’s messages and endorsements would mean something to other like-minded people.

A Consumer Reports type report card from such an organization might just break through the clutter of negative mail and ridiculous Facebook posts we all seem to loathe.

A hard task?

No doubt.

But a guy can dream right?

And if such an organization were to form, I would join (if they would have me) and I’d bring a bunch of people who know we can do a whole lot better.

1 November, 2021 2 2 Comments

Alone We Can Do So Little, Together We Can Do So Much

November 1, 2021 By 2 Comments

If I woke up tomorrow and was granted magical powers to make the world a better place, I would ask everyone to sign up for a course on how to collaborate.

Collaboration is the process of two or more people, entities or organizations working together to complete a task or achieve a goal.

Simple concept, right?

It’s also necessary to achieve anything in life.

The poet John Donne said that “no man is an island.” (No woman is either).

The phrase means that no one is truly self-sufficient, everyone must rely on the company and comfort of others to thrive.

Donne’s poem against isolationism was written in the 17th century, so this is not exactly new ground that we are plowing.

But glance at the news these days and you’ll see a failure to collaborate just about everywhere.

Congress and our body politic are divided, not only between Democrats and Republicans, but between moderates and progressives, Trumpers and never Trumpers.

Oddly, the factions and sides need each other to get anything done. But the notion of collaboration, cooperation and compromise is hopelessly lost amidst acrimony and grievance.

As we speak, the world’s leaders are meeting in Scotland to discuss climate change. The poor countries of our world need money (lots of it) from the rich countries to save the planet we all occupy and rely on for survival. But collaboration is elusive and so our planet continues to cook.

The scorecard looks grim: we can’t collaborate to defeat a virus; we can’t collaborate to fix our crumbling infrastructure and we can’t collaborate to meet the challenge of other nation’s conspiring to supplant our role as the world’s pre-eminent superpower. We are too busy fighting each other.

Sigh.

None of these observations are new, prescient, or insightful. But I would argue that things are getting worse not better and that our inability to collaborate makes it nearly impossible to solve problems or seize opportunities.

This is a hyperlocal blog and so I can’t help but apply my observations to my own hometown of Delray Beach.

In short, this city was a place that used to work. We were cooking my friends. Projects got built, initiatives were launched, visions and plans came to life and a place was transformed.

A once dying and dormant downtown became vibrant and successful; new parks were built, others improved, an abandoned school surrounded by a rusted chain link fence became a cultural beacon for the region and the community dug in to create programs and improve neighborhoods. A blighted Second Avenue became Pineapple Grove, events brought fun and commerce to the city and civic pride blossomed.

Why?
In a word; collaboration.

People and organizations worked together.

In every room and at every table where decisions were made, the implicit rule was “put your ego aside, bury your personal differences: Delray comes first.”

I found the community to be largely welcoming and mostly inclusive.  Yes, there were some rooms where I wasn’t welcome (how many times did I hear the words
“damn New Yorkers”) and I know of the city’s fraught racial history (and present, I’m sorry to say). All that did was make me and others want to get involved to make things better.

There were efforts—albeit imperfect— to acknowledge and attempt to improve race relations and civic engagement. People really tried. I believe those efforts were sincere.

Despite some very real headwinds, there was collaboration. City government worked with neighborhood associations, city departments worked with each other and other agencies, the Chamber of Commerce was at the table and so were the key non-profits. Citizens had ample opportunities to weigh in—town hall meetings, charrettes, visioning exercises, goal setting sessions, resident academies, citizen police academies, neighborhood summits, teen summits and the list goes on and on.

Not everyone liked each other.  But by and large—people showed up and Delray came first. Progress was made.

But progress ends when collaboration dies.

When egos clash, when feuds are allowed to get in the way of the mission—the mission gets lost. Eventually those feuds cloud and then obscure the mission until people forget all about it. Settling the score becomes the mission.

And guess what? In politics—unlike war—you never really vanquish the opposition. You may win or lose an election, but your opponent doesn’t go away, they don’t say they are wrong or stop criticizing you. In some cases, they don’t even acknowledge that they lost. And so the cycle continues.

The job of leadership is to find a way forward; to cling to the mission and remind us about the bigger picture and there’s always a bigger picture.

So if you are a Congressman or a Senator, it’s not about hanging a loss on the opposing team, it’s about finding a way to fix our crumbling infrastructure and heal our planet. If you are a mayor or a city commissioner, it’s about finding a way to make sure your city’s assets are protected and enhanced and that new ones are developed so that long after your gone your community is positioned to succeed. It certainly isn’t about wiping an organization off the face of the Earth because it contains a nest of people who didn’t support your campaigns. (See Square, Old School).

These are simple concepts that are being lost. We are at great peril unless and until they are rediscovered.

We need to insist on collaboration, or we’re done. It’s just that simple.

 

Don’t Miss Heart of the Square…

The kickoff to “Arts Season” Begins 6 p.m. Friday, November 5th at Old School Square’s Cornell Museum with a very special event, “The Heart Of The Square”.

Old School Square has touched every corner of the Delray Beach community over the years through their tireless efforts and passion for the arts.

“Heart Of The Square” captures these experiences through a truly inspirational collective of immersive art installations and displays that highlight how Old School Square has been the heart of Delray Beach for over 30 years.

The highlights of the evening will include the “Heart Of The Square” exhibition at the Cornell Art Museum, live music, activities for the kids and a many more surprises.

The evening will be capped off with the unveiling of a new art installation created by world renowned artist and Delray Beach local Jeff Whyman.

The event is free and family friendly.

This is a good chance to relive Delray history and support Old School Square. As readers know, after 32 years, the City Commission in a 3-2 vote, decided to terminate the non-profit’s lease. But despite that kick in the teeth, the non-profit has vowed that the show must go on and the community must be served, proving that there’s a big difference between a community based non-profit and a management company.

Please show your support, OSS needs all of us. And we need OSS.

 

 

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