“Do not get lost in a sea of despair,” John Lewis tweeted almost exactly a year before his death. “Do not become bitter or hostile. Be hopeful, be optimistic. Never, ever be afraid to make some noise and get in good trouble, necessary trouble. We will find a way to make a way out of no way.”
We recently marked the fifth anniversary of Congressman Lewis’ death from pancreatic cancer at the age of 80.
Rep. Lewis, a civil rights icon, was famous for urging people to get in what he called “good trouble.”
I watched his funeral from a bed in Bethesda Hospital where I was fighting for my life after contracting Covid. That was bad trouble. But I remember being inspired by the words of those mourning a great man.
It’s been an impactful five years for all of us.
We’ve experienced a pandemic, J6, rampant inflation, market volatility, war, natural disasters in places we thought were relatively safe (western North Carolina), toxic politics not seen in our lifetimes and divisions in our society that were once unimaginable.
We’ve been through a lot.
I have a feeling that we’re not done—there are more shoes to drop, more hits to absorb, more opportunities to tear at the seams of what used to bind us.
I also have a sense that a great many people are sick and tired of the nonsense and anxious to get to a place where we can stop fighting and get about the business of living. We inherited a wonderful country built by generations who moved mountains, who strived to create a more perfect union. To tear it apart is sinful. To those who say we are fixing things, consider this: if half the country feels left out, ignored, bullied and hated we aren’t fixing anything. The answers do not exist on either extreme, the way forward is together and that requires compromise, tolerance and bipartisanship. Both parties have failed us. We, the people, deserve better.
I’m just back from a few weeks in Maine.
I love my time off the treadmill, its restorative, relaxing and grounding.
The beauty of New England is stunning. There are rocky coastlines, lush woods, mountains, streams, waterfalls and flowers everywhere.
There’s also history, culture, walkable little towns and architecture that feels very much like America.
I feel rooted there. I’m a native New Yorker who has spent nearly 40 years in South Florida but for some inexplicable reason I feel at home when I’m wandering around New England.
I’m “from away” and therefore will never be considered a Mainer.
I’m OK with that.
When I’m there I want to be respectful of my surroundings. I’m here to experience a special place. I’m here to respect and appreciate it.
I felt the same way about Florida when I arrived on July 27 1987, a year out of school and just getting started in life.
I came to South Florida to appreciate and enjoy a place I saw as affordable paradise at the time. Coming from the gray skies of upstate NY where I went to school and got my first newspaper job to The Sunshine State was like waking up from a black and white world to a world of bright colors.
Florida was warm, fresh, the skies were brilliant, the ocean awesome and the palm trees were inviting. I had entered a world of tropical beauty. It just felt surreal to me, in all the good ways. Life here felt limitless, relaxed and easy.
When I stumbled upon Delray it called to me.
It also felt like home.
In the late 80s, the village was more than a little scruffy. The beach was beautiful, the downtown was dead, but there was a downtown and there were some very rough neighborhoods. But there was potential and the vibe felt like something significant and cool was about to happen.
There was also an inclusive feeling in the air, a message of “roll up your sleeves, get involved, we want you to be involved” aimed at everyone willing.
I fell.
Hook, line and sinker.
I was a newspaper reporter in those days. My job was to tell the story of my new home. And I relished every moment. There was so much to tell, so much going on, the place was brimming with aspiration and the message was let’s make some “good trouble.”
And lots of people did.
They came from Pittsburgh and created festivals.
They came from Illinois and built a modern day fire rescue system.
They came from Orlando and helped to build a police department second to none and they came from Belle Glade and replaced blight with art, culture and community.
I watched another native Illinoisan become a model mayor, saw a rebel looking kid from Indiana redefine the ocean front real estate market and guys from Maryland, Massachusetts and Michigan create value in neighborhoods nobody else would touch.
It was magical to watch and write about.
It was impossible not to get involved and swept up in the evolving story of this place.
A generation was making good trouble…not all of it was perfect, maybe none of it was, but it was something to behold. And cherish.
It’s more than placemaking, it’s making a place.
I miss those days. For my town and my country. I know I’m not alone.
