6 July, 2026 8 8 Comments

Retired Old Men Eating Out

July 6, 2026 By 8 Comments

The wonderful cast and director of The Romeos. From left, Matthew, Shelly, Kathryn, Gary and Peter.

Imagine this.
You invite people to a beautiful, historic space with plush chairs, great sight lines, professional sound and lighting and ask them to listen to a wide variety of stories told by a talented team of writers, actors and directors whose only goal is to inspire and entertain.

There are no screens. No ear buds. No algorithms and no cell phones.
Instead, you’re asked to lean in and pay attention–all at the same time, together.
That’s the magic of theatre and when it comes together, when the actors are clicking and the storytellers are doing their job you get swept away by the experience. And when it’s over, you have something to talk about, something to think about. You will have laughed, you may have cried but you will depart feeling human again, part of a community that enjoys the immense pleasure and value of storytelling.
That’s theatre. And that’s what the Playwrights Festival at the Delray Beach Playhouse delivers year after year.

The 7th annual Playwrights Festival recently wrapped on a scorching hot Sunday afternoon.
A sold out weekend ended with my play The Romeo’s closing the festival.

Afterwards, the playwrights gather on stage for a talkback. The audience asks questions, share their thoughts and for a few golden moments we get to shine.
It’s a heckuva feeling my friends.

But then you get to walk through the theater greeting audience members, actors and stagehands because nobody really wants to let go just yet.
For the performers and playwrights the nervous tension has been released.
There’s a feeling of “we did it” permeating the air. It’s not easy to get up on a stage and try to transport an audience for 10-15 minutes—the length of the plays featured by the festival.
It’s not easy to write dialogue either, unless you’re Nora Ephron or Neil Simon.

Most of us mortals sit staring at blank screens trying to wrestle an idea into something coherent through trial and a whole lot of errors.
To see that work come to life through the talents of gifted actors shaped by visionary directors is a feeling that is indescribable. It’s worth the labor. Every time.
But there’s risk involved. Delicious risk because you never know if what you’ve written is any good until you hear it out loud or as theater people say “on its feet.”

I wrote “The Romeos” after a weekend family reunion where my brother in law Paul talked about “retired old men eating out.” Get it. Romeo’s.
At the time, I didn’t know it was a thing. All I knew, was that it was a great concept for a play. So I got to work. Now that I have a little experience and have met several actors I find myself writing with those actors in mind.

For the Romeos I imagined my friends Shelly Pittleman and Peter Salzer in two of the lead roles.
I saw Shelly as Frank, a widowed plumber grieving the loss of his wife Marie. And I saw Peter as Morty, a health conscious accountant.
We needed a third character so I created Sid, a retired English teacher and poetry aficionado who is also a romantic and a bit of a ladies man.
I put them in a diner on 441 and imagined that they met weekly in the same booth where they were ably waited on by Jessica, a younger waitress with aspirations and wisdom forged by hard won experience.

If I am to be honest, this one came easy. A first draft was done in about an hour. I saw the characters clearly. I had the set up, and I think I knew what life lessons I was hoping to convey in a quick s few pages.
Now all I needed was for it to be funny and touching. No problem.

Yeah right.

The truth is sometimes writing comes easy, it just flows and sometimes, most of the time, it’s a slog of self doubt. You search in vain for magic and you wrestle with a feeling that it’s lacking that certain something you just can’t put your finger on.

For me, and other writers I’ve spoken to, we live for those flow moments when the words just appear from some mysterious place. But we also relish the struggle because we have faith that the struggle will make us better. When you struggle and solve the riddle it’s a great feeling. It’s also a great feeling when the characters cooperate and write for you.

The Romeos was the latter feeling for me. I heard Peter and Shelly. And when we cast Gary Eggers as Sid and Kathleen Shelton as Jessica they slid into the characters I imagined.
I can see myself writing with them in mind in the future.

The next step is to turn your script over to a talented director in this case the remarkable Matthew Schenk.
Matt and the cast made it sing.
And then, it’s over.
It’s performed and it vanishes.

That’s the cruelty and the grace of live theater. It’s not a movie. You can’t rewind it. You can’t stream it at midnight in your pajamas. You were either there or you weren’t. And if you were there– if you were in that room on that Sunday afternoon, then you own something that no one can take from you and no one else will ever have. Your version. Your experience. The way that particular line landed in your particular chest on that particular afternoon.

A film is a recording. A book is an object. A play is a séance.
You summon something into the room. It lives for a few minutes. Then it goes back to wherever it came from. And you sit there in the dark after the lights go down and you think: “was that real”?
It was real. It was a Sunday afternoon in Delray beach and it was real.

I’ve written a number of plays now. Some of them have been produced, some of them live in drawers, some of them are still becoming whatever they’re gonna become. But I will tell you this; nothing, nothing compares to sitting in a theater and hearing an audience laughing at the line you wrote alone on your phone at two in the morning. Nothing compares to the actor who finds something in the words you didn’t know was there, a pause you didn’t write, a gesture you didn’t imagine, a take that elevates a line and creates a magical moment.
Once you turn a play over to a creative team, it’s not your play anymore. It becomes our play and that’s my favorite part because the team takes the writing to places you never imagine.

The Playwrights Festival does something that almost nobody does anymore. It bets on new work. It bets on the unknown. It says; we don’t know if this piece is going to work, but we’re gonna put it in a room with real actors and a real audience and find out together. That’s not programming. That’s faith.
And as festival co-creator Marianne Regan reminds audiences, this work matters because we are creating the theater of tomorrow. We are building the canon in our own humble but sincere way.
We are also building community.
The festival sells out. In the middle of summer, the so-called slow season.
But there’s clearly a hunger for stories and live performance. There’s clearly a desire to get together and experience something live and in person with our friends and neighbors.
If I could, I’d live in that world.
It is hard to leave it.
I noticed that people linger. They want to talk to the actors and playwrights and each other. That’s so beautiful.
But eventually we leave, the curtain goes down, the lights go off. The actors go back to their lives.
That’s theater.
You build a world. You fill it with people. You let strangers into it for a few minutes and then you strike it, pack it up and carry it home where nobody can see it but you know it’s there.
The Romeos lived for one afternoon in Delray beach.
The imaginary booth is gone. The props are in a box somewhere.
Frank and Morty and Sid and Jessica are back in the script, where they live, waiting for the next time someone gives them a room, a light, and an audience.

30 March, 2026 4 4 Comments

To Theatre With Love

March 30, 2026 By 4 Comments

Some theatres are grand, some are bland, but all are magical.

“The arts have a higher purpose. They are here to enrich our lives, expand our vision, enlighten our world, challenge our reality, enable our core beliefs, improve our humanity, activate our imaginations, and to bring into the world that which could not exist but through this vision, talent and invention of artists.” – David Rainey, founder Studio for Actors Houston.

The theater was standing room only.

Every seat taken, every inch of space claimed by people who had driven over, walked over, struggled to find parking — and made their way inside to watch something that had no algorithm behind it, no streaming subscription, no skip button. Just people, on a stage, doing the thing humans have been doing for thousands of years: telling stories to other humans in the same room.

This was Sea Shorts, produced by the Lauderdale by the Sea Players — a community theater festival that just wrapped its tenth year.

Two weekends, six performances, nine short plays, and a company made up entirely of volunteers.

Every actor, every director, every person who schlepped a set piece or adjusted a light or handed out a program: doing it for love. Nothing more, nothing less. Love.  That’s the secret sauce. There is nothing that comes close.

I had two plays in the festival this year — “Love After Love” and “Time Table.”

Being selected was an honor. I was genuinely moved by this production. Not because of anything I wrote. Because of what happened in that room.

What Community Theater Actually Is

There’s a tendency to use the phrase “community theater” with a slight wince — a polite softening, as if to say: “it’s not the real thing but isn’t it sweet”. That instinct is completely wrong, and Sea Shorts dismantled it in about ninety minutes flat.

The actors were charming, funny, and talented. The directors made real choices. The audience laughed in exactly the right places, went quiet in exactly the right places, and gave the kind of sustained, full-room applause that you can’t manufacture. That’s art and passion meeting community.  It’s electric.

This is what theater was always meant to be — not a luxury for those who can afford the ticket, but a gathering place for everyone.

Why It Matters More Right Now

We are living through a strange and fractured moment. Economic anxiety is real. Social trust is fraying. We spend enormous portions of our lives staring at screens that are specifically engineered to outrage us, isolate us, and keep us scrolling. In that context, the act of sitting in a room full of strangers — laughing together, tearing up together, startled by the same moment — is not a small thing. It feeds your soul.

Theater doesn’t let you look away. It doesn’t offer a comment section. It puts a human being a few feet in front of you and asks you to pay attention, to feel something, to be moved. And here’s what I watched happen at Sea Shorts: an audience of people sat together and shared the same emotional experience. For those ninety minutes or so, they were one room. One community. That’s magic by the sea.

The People Who Make It Happen

I want to say something about the volunteers who produce festivals like Sea Shorts, because they don’t always get their due. These are people who hold day jobs, manage families, navigate the ordinary chaos of adult life — and then show up to rehearsals on weeknights, haul set pieces on weekends, and pour themselves into the work because they believe in it.

That’s a serious commitment.

That’s love.

And the result is not some lesser version of theater. It is theater, in the fullest and most honest sense of the word.

The Lauderdale by the Sea Players have been building something real for a decade. Sea Shorts in its tenth year isn’t a happy accident — it’s the result of hundreds of people, over hundreds of rehearsal hours, choosing to invest in something that belongs to their community.

What This Does for a Playwright

I came to Sea Shorts as a writer. I left as a believer. It happened to me at the Delray Beach Playhouse as well. And when I travelled to Columbus, Ohio to share a story that happened here in Delray.

There is a particular kind of joy that comes from hearing a room full of people laugh at something you wrote or watching them lean forward in their seats because they want to know what happens next. It’s humbling and thrilling in equal measure. But more than that — more than any personal satisfaction — I was moved by the simple fact of the gathering itself.

That’s what theater does. It gathers us. It says: come be in this room, with these people, for this hour. Leave your phone in your pocket. Pay attention. You might feel something you haven’t felt in a while. You might look over at the stranger sitting next to you and realize you’re both crying, or both laughing, and in that moment, you are not strangers at all.

 

That’s the power of local theater. That’s why it matters. That’s why we need it — maybe now more than ever.

If there’s a community theater near you, go. Buy a ticket. Or find a volunteer night and show up with a willingness to work. You’ll be surprised what’s waiting for you inside that room.

Remembering

We lost two fine people recently that I wanted to remember in this space.

Sonya Costin was a close friend of our family, a fixture in Delray Beach for decades and an all around wonderful person.

She was married to her Seacrest High School sweetheart former City Commissioner Bob Costin. The duo ran Costin’s Flowers & Gifts in downtown Delray for over 45 years.

Bob and Sonya used to joke that they were downtown before downtown was cool.

How true that was.

Bob and I hit it off while serving on the Commission together and we became close to Sonya as a result. That meant dinners out (mostly Longhorn and Il Girasol) and time together during holidays. We even went to a destination wedding together in Florence, Italy and to Lake Tahoe together.

We have nothing but fond memories of the Costin’s. We lost Bob a few years back. I miss him and think of him often.

Bob and Sonya enjoyed time in their “chalet” on Lake Burton in Georgia and went all over the country in their prized Bluebird Wanderlodge.

Sonya was a teacher and a graduate of FSU. She encouraged my daughter who went into education.

Memorial contributions may be made to the Achievement Centers for Children & Families, 555 Northwest 4th Street, Delray Beach, FL 33444, visit www.AchievementCentersFL.org for more information.

Sonya will be missed by all those who knew her.

We also send our condolences to the family of Ivan Ladizinsky who passed March 12 at age 92.

Ivan served as the city Public Information Officer during my term in office. We worked on annual reports, town hall meetings, newsletters etc., during that time. He came to us after a distinguished career in TV where he nurtured the careers of Ted Koppel and Charles Osgood. He was a kind and gentle man.

We wish his wife Karen and four children solace during this difficult time.

 

 

 

5 January, 2026 2 2 Comments

Poetry…

January 5, 2026 By 2 Comments

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

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

So is Dylan.

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

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

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

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

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

My friend Andrea is a poet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

1 September, 2025 4 4 Comments

Seeking Connection In An Age Of Screens

September 1, 2025 By 4 Comments

A scene from Press Conference performed in Ohio.

Last week, we ventured to Columbus, Ohio to see the opening of a short play I wrote called “Press Conference.”

I had entered the play about a mayor dealing with the fallout of a shooting in a “Brave Stories” contest run by Boxland Media.
They received over 500 entries from all over the country and a few foreign nations as well. My play was one of four chosen for the festival.
To say I was surprised would be an understatement. I’m new at this and when the winners were announced I recognized the names of two of the winning playwrights—I’ve read their work and listened to them on podcasts hoping to glean some wisdom from their success.
All three of the other plays were phenomenal and I realized that I  have a lot to learn. I’m eager to do so. But if I can brag for just a moment, my little piece of work held its own. Of that, I’m proud.
The story of Press Conference is loosely based on my experiences as mayor of Delray many moons ago. During my tenure, we experienced the tragic shooting of a 15 year old outside a school dance by a rookie police officer.
That experience affected me and many others profoundly.
This year was the 20th anniversary of the shooting and I wanted to write about it—albeit with some artistic license. As I mentioned “Press Conference” is loosely based on what we experienced. But it touches on issues that remain painfully relevant. Race, fear and a style of politics that favors the safe way out over courage and humanity.
The play was also produced in May by a group called Playzoomers for a national audience of online subscribers and a company called Tiny Scripted recently acquired the piece for additional distribution.
It’s all exciting and I am currently working to expand the work into a full length play called “Say My Name”—a nod to our tendency as a society to move on  when we would be better served to learn and talk about the issues that divide us. My theory is that if we talk to one another we’ll find have more in common than we might imagine. If we engage, we take away the corrosive power of those who seek to divide us.
I felt it important to travel to Ohio and be there for opening night. I talked briefly with the cast and director pre-show and then did what is known as a talk back after the show. The cast joined me to discuss their feelings about the play.
What I learned is that live theater can be a powerful experience. It’s one of the few communal things we do these days. We spend much of our time on phones and staring at screens. We rarely talk or gather and I think it’s hurting us.
There’s a crisis of loneliness in America. People of all ages and genders are experiencing isolation but there’s a genuine crisis among young men who are particularly isolated.
Many don’t have friends. Or the friends they do have live in their headphones as they play games online for hours at a time. It’s a very different experience from prior generations.
We used to see movies together, but that’s waning. We used to join bowling leagues and service clubs and volunteer for community projects. There’s been a documented drop in all of those categories.
Live theatre is one of the few things we still experience together, at the same time.
The best plays spark conversations and thought. They evoke emotion and get us to ask questions of each other and ourselves.
That’s what I’m trying to do with my nascent efforts in this beautiful new world I’ve discovered courtesy of FAU’s
Theatre Lab and the festival of new plays sponsored annually by the magnificent Delray Beach Playhouse.
And that’s the spirit that moved us to venture to Ohio to gather with people we didn’t know to see four plays about brave topics.
I left with new friends, new insights into the subject matter and a resolve to write more.
There’s nothing like hearing your words come to life thanks to the efforts of talented actors and actresses. I’ve been blown away by the talent I’ve seen. The directors have been excellent as well.
One of the young actors, Joe Morales, drove two hours each way from Canton, Ohio to perform a small role (spectacularly). That’s dedication. And I’m so grateful for these creatives. They make our world a better place.
The arts are so important. The arts are so meaningful.
The noise of the day comes and goes, but art..well art endures. If it’s good.
I’m trying to be good. I’m reaching for the stars. Not because it’s lucrative (it’s not) but because it matters. It matters to those we are trying to remember, to the audience we are trying to move
 or entertain and to the creatives who give us so much.
On October 11 at 2 pm and 8 pm my play “The Cafe on Main” will be performed at the amazing Arts Garage right here in Delray.
I’m hoping you’ll come out to see the talented cast of local actors and to support the Arts Garage which has become an important cultural hub for our community.
The play is about love, community, second chances and friendship. These are subjects near and dear to us all. Come share the experience with your friends and family.
You’ll leave with memories and you’ll connect with others. Netflix will be there when you come home, I promise.
Visit artsgarage.org for tickets and more information.
14 October, 2024 10 10 Comments

The Magic of Theater, The Magic of Trying

October 14, 2024 By 10 Comments


A few months back, I wrote about a New Play Festival sponsored by the wonderful Delray Beach Playhouse.

I’ve been a writer longer than I can remember, but I’ve never written a play. I have two screenplays sitting in a drawer, but writing for the stage is not something that I ever had the nerve to try. Until now.
 Last year,  I wrote a short play entitled “The Cafe on Main”, and answered a call for submissions for the New Play Festival. My short work was one of 10 chosen, a surprising but wonderful development that has literally changed my life.
I cannot express the joy that I feel hearing my words acted out by talented actors who breathe life into the characters and find nuances in the play that I never knew existed.
The Cafe on Main is a place where  love is given a second and sometimes third chance, says the description in the playbill.
The action takes place in an imaginary cafe in my hometown of Stony Brook, NY.
Stony Brook is kind of a magical place and growing up on the north shore of Long Island in the 70s and early 80s was an idyllic experience for me and most of my friends.
Stony Brook was a village, intimate and cozy, but close enough to New York City that we benefited from the energy and opportunities of the Big Apple.
Now 1970s NYC was a little different. There was crime and grime, graffiti and garbage. We had the Son of Sam, the Bronx was literally burning and my hero John Lennon was gunned down outside the Dakota building.
But we had Thurman Munson and Reggie Jackson, the Knicks, Rangers, Big East basketball, Tom Seaver and Joe Namath too.
It was all a short ride away on the Long Island Railroad.
But home was quiet and safe. It was pretty and suburban. But far. from boring. My hometown has a rich history going back to the Revolutionary War. Washington really did sleep here..so did his Setauket spies.
All of these images went through my mind when I sat down with an empty page and imagined a quaint, cozy Café overlooking the Village Green in picturesque Stony Brook.
Truth be told, my home for the last 37 years also was on my mind. The proprietor of my imaginary cafe was modeled—loosely—on my dear friend Fran Marincola, owner of Caffe Luna Rosa a Delray institution. If you know Fran, and most around these parts do, you understand that he’s a rich character. I had plenty of material to mine.
The New Play Festival features short plays and my original version of “Cafe” is a full blown production. To qualify, I had to cut characters and with the help of our magnificent director Marianne Regan, we pared down the back story of the proprietor.
Someday, I will tell his story in full.
We cast the five parts in July and I was floored by the talent that came to read for the 10 plays.
The directors ask the playwrights to draw up their wish list and I was thrilled when I landed my top picks for four of the five roles.
The wildcard was a young actress whom I liked but didn’t list as a top choice. Turns out she had to drop out and the role was recast with Diane Tyminski, an amazing actress of local note who happens to be from Long Island.
At rehearsals, she blew us away with her grasp of the character and the milieu.
Ahh rehearsals..this is where my life changed where I caught the theater bug and happily succumbed to the bliss of live theater.
The cast, Sergio Fuenzalida , Diane, Shelly Pittleman, Nancy Ferraro and Peter Salzer are extraordinary.
There was an immediate palpable bond among them and the chemistry was off the charts.
Watching them run the scenes and find the characters was not only fascinating it was moving.
There’s nothing like hearing your words come to life. It’s simply intoxicating.
Admittedly, I don’t have a frame of reference. It’s my first play. But I also saw the cast with tears in their eyes. They were as swept away as I was.
Honestly, I couldn’t believe it. But it was real and so I asked what they were feeling and they shared.
Going into rehearsals I was concerned that the actors wouldn’t connect with the material.
Was it good enough to engage them?
Now I was concerned that the initial emotion would be lost with more run throughs.
This is where the director comes in.
I had heard that Marianne Regan was good. Now I was seeing just how good she was. She knew what buttons to push, how to make the story move and she also knew not to over rehearse our talented cast.
And so the magic they captured was intact.
Leaving the theater after rehearsals I felt buoyant. I felt like you do when you discover a new love—excited, eager to share with my wife and friends and far less nervous for opening day.  (The Festival is October 19-20 at 2 pm, my play runs Sunday. For tickets visit delrayplayhouse.org, they are expected to sell out).
Of course, I’m still a little nervous but I sure have confidence in this cast and director. I’m in good hands.
I don’t want this feeling to end.
Writing can be a lonely endeavor.  It’s just you and the empty page sometimes joined by an inner critic, a chorus of doubt and these characters you imagine and try mightily to bring to life.
But this is the payoff. The chance to collaborate with talented people. The opportunity to share with an audience longing to be taken someplace different.
I realize how rare this is. How lucky I am. And I am grateful.
What a magnificent gift this historic old playhouse on Lake Ida gives to 10 writers a year. The actors too. There is so much talent waiting to be seen.
We are all enriched when there’s an outlet. It’s a noisy, often chaotic world. Monster hurricanes, divisive politics, so much coming at us at once and all the time.
To step into a theater and watch actors bring a story to life is a valuable gift.
I hope you will make it a point to visit and support the Delray Playhouse. It’s a charming place. A gem. And I hope you’ll try something new like I did. You never know where it might lead.
You never know if trying will better your life. It has mine.