Time & Lasting Impact

Stanley Tate: from humble beginnings to lasting prominence and impact.

In three weeks, I’ll be 60.

It’s a birthday my mother, who passed away in 1998 at age 59, never saw.

That sad fact gives me pause. Because she didn’t get this far, I’ve been contemplating this birthday for a while now. It’s been there– on the horizon— for 26 years. Now it’s here.

I think about mom every single day.

I miss her.

Some days that dull ache is sharp.

Whenever I see a movie she would have loved; whenever there’s a family milestone I know she would have savored, I feel that loss and the experience becomes bittersweet. She’s missed by so many.  She’s missed so much.

Four years ago at this very time, I was in the throes of a knock-down brawl with Covid.

There were moments—too many to contemplate—where I did not think I would get out of Bethesda alive. I try not to think about that period, but I still do. There are times when I can’t quiet my mind. There are mornings when I wake up and for a split second, I’m back in that loud ICU room isolated, struggling to breathe.

Then I realize I’m safe, and a wave of gratitude washes over me. I’m thankful to be alive. I’m thankful for the good in my life. I’m aware of how fragile we are.

During my Covid battle, I kept thinking that if I didn’t make it, I would be younger than my mother was when she lost her battle with cancer. I thought about all that she missed; grandchildren growing up and doing great things, time with my dad, time in Florida, a place she loved.

What would I have missed if that damn virus claimed me?

Four years later, millions of lives later, I think about those who didn’t make it. I think of their families, and I think of those whose lives were transformed by long Covid.

They say that people grow when challenged. I believe that’s true.

Strength through adversity is the phrase.

“The strongest steel is forged by the hottest fires. It is pounded and struck repeatedly… The fire gives it power and flexibility, and the blows give it strength,” says the writer, Sherrilyn Kenyon. “Those two things make the metal pliable and able to withstand every battle it’s called upon to fight.”

Indeed.

But sometimes those fires engulf people. Sometimes the strongest people succumb.

That realization puts everything in perspective. We are all passing through. Let’s make the most of it. That’s my prayer for everyone.

It’s what we do with the time we are given that matters. Life is about love. Life is about service. Life is about connections.

It’s also about faith, creating and appreciating magic, making and keeping friends and leaving things better than we found them. My mom did all of that and more.

She continues to inspire and inform me. Life may end, but love endures.

A Life In Service to the future

Florida lost a giant last week with the passing of Stanley Tate, a self-made millionaire who was instrumental in the creation and development of the Florida Prepaid College Program.

Mr. Tate died at his Bal Harbour home on July 26. He was 96.

Mr. Tate grew up in a tiny Brooklyn apartment and came to the Sunshine State to attend the University of Florida. He waited tables to pay for college and then became a South Florida real estate mogul. He was well-known in Delray as the developer of the High Point community.

Mr. Tate started the Florida Prepaid program with $600,000 of his own money. The program has helped thousands of parents afford college for their children by allowing those enrolled to lock in tuition rates from the time their children are born. It’s a brilliant model.

In my work at the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation, we took advantage of Mr. Tate’s vision by investing in Take Stock in Children which buys prepaid plans to make college affordable for students who would not otherwise be able to get an education without the lower tuition rates.

Mr. Tate’s legacy is a big one. He will be missed, but his work continues.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heroes & Grace

Watching the ceremonies marking the 80th anniversary of D-Day was a deeply moving experience.

To see the last members of the Greatest Generation back in Normandy fills your heart with pride and gratitude.

This level of service and sacrifice defies description. Thank goodness for these people. We are a free people because of their heroism.

Over the weekened, I listened to an interview about D-Day with retired four-star Admiral James Stravridis, the former Supreme Allied Commander of NATO.

Adm. Stravridis is a remarkable man and has a unique way of explaining complex global affairs.

But on this day, he talked about why it’s important to thank people who serve.

“Those of us in the military really appreciate when people say, ‘thank you for your service’,” he said. “It’s meaningful. But we should also thank everyone who serves. That includes teachers, police, firefighters, and others who serve the community.”

That’s a simple and reasonable request. But a powerful one too.

I thought about Admiral Stravridis’ words and realized that we don’t often take the time to say thank you to those who serve.

There’s a crisis in law enforcement–an inability to recruit– in large part because people feel police work is a thankless job.

Same with teaching and a whole host of fields ranging from nursing and the fire service to government employees who are often viciously maligned and threatened.

It’s a doom loop and it’s hurtful. Criticism and condemnation–especially if it’s unwarranted and mean-spirited leave lasting scars.

People who go into public service are not seeking to get rich. You simply can’t get rich in these fields. They are searching for something deeper, they want to make a difference, they long to serve, they want to help and therefore they find “riches” in ways that can’t be measured.

But even the biggest hearts have a limit. If the costs outweigh the benefits, people will find other ways to spend their years.

We humans have a need to feel respected. We want to be seen and appreciated. It costs us nothing to do so.

I’ve been blessed to know many public servants. Teachers, police officers, firefighters, veterans, those that work for nonprofits and a range of others folks who serve us in all sorts of ways.

I lived next door to two boys who grew up to be Marines. I saw them go from little guys playing video games in my house to young men willing to die for their country—just like the D-Day veterans. That level of commitment is to be celebrated, venerated, spoken about, and honored.

That celebration, that respect starts right here at home.

When I see officers or firefighters around town—I stop to say thank you and to share my wish that they stay safe. It’s a dangerous world that they inhabit every time they step out the door.

I also think our thanks and appreciation should extend—like Admiral Stravridis suggests—to all who serve.

As such, we have a teachable moment in Delray Beach right now.

I don’t watch City Commission meetings. But after receiving a bunch of texts about the June 4 meeting, I decided to put it on as background noise while I worked.

Commissioner Rob Long started a conversation about the opaque process to find a group to help get Old School Square’s theater and classrooms going again. Commissioner Long objected to an allegation made at another meeting that the nonprofit that created Old School Square and did a damn good job for decades was under FBI investigation.

It’s just not true.

The truth is there has been no coherent process to replace the nonprofit that built Old School Square and nurtured it for 32 years. It is just a muddled mess, which has compounded the poor and expensive decision to boot the group without a plan.

What transpired was a shrill and embarrassing discussion that further sullied the reputations of valued community servants who gave their time, talent, and treasure to this city for 30 plus years. These people really took a beating, it was unnecessary and undeserving. A majority of the commission didn’t look good  in adminstering the beat down. We can do better.

But the point here is not to re-litigate the Old School Square mess. It’s to point out, that nowhere in this disaster have we found it in our hearts to slow down, stop for a moment, and give thanks to community volunteers.

Instead, we have treated some of our best citizens as if they are criminals. They are not.

Nobody is perfect, and mistakes were made and owned, despite what is being said by people who ought to know better. But when people talk past each other we don’t get anything but hurt.

Mercifully, what’s left of the Old School Square nonprofit wrote a letter the next day to the City Manager saying no more. Inexplicably, the manager had written to the group asking if they still had interest in providing those missing classes and theatre programming. The letter was a joke. Not a funny one either.

But the larger point is we have spent years denigrating, disrespecting, and spreading lies about a group that has brought immeasurable benefits to our town.

The only acknowledgment of that contribution came from Commissioner Angela Burns.

As a result, I wrote her a note of thanks. Mr. Long should also be commended for trying to inject some sense into this topic. He tried to address the false allegations but all it did was unleash another round of hurt.

We need leadership that says thank you. We need a society that doesn’t play gotcha, that seeks to solve, not destroy.

Old School Square was not a perfect organization. Nobody is perfect. But the nonprofit did good things, many good things for a long time.  Our city government has screwed up plenty over the years too. But our local government has also done some amazing things. Accountability is essential, but so is kindness. You can have both. Sometimes it takes courage to stop the cycle of recrimination. It takes leadership to recognize that a community needs to heal and move on.

The Greatest Generation set the example of all examples when they saved the world from monsters and then set about rebuilding the post-war world order.

By comparison, what we deal with locally should be easy. Make no mistake, there is no equivalency between D-Day and the petty personal politics we deal with at home and in Washington D.C.

Still, there are examples we can use from history to build a better world.

We can start with five words: thank you for your service. But you have to mean it. You have to really mean it.

 

The Good Stuff…

Thankfulness is the quickest path to joy.

I love Thanksgiving.

I can take or leave the turkey, but I thrive on gratitude.

I think being thankful is essential to life; as essential as the air we breathe.

Think that’s an exaggeration?

Well, there’s enough negativity in our world that if we focused exclusively on that, we would find it hard to move.

A friend of mine once told me that a recipe for unhappiness is to fixate on what we don’t have. Conversely, the key to happiness is to appreciate what’s good in our lives.

Yes my friends, if we count our blessings, we can find happiness.

That may be an oversimplification, but you get the drift.

So, in the spirit of Thanksgiving. Here are a few things to be grateful for.

Love.

Family.

Friends.

Health.

Sunshine.

Cooler temperatures.

Dogs (always dogs).

The love of a beloved partner.

The grilled cheese on multi -grain at Granger’s.

Hey, it’s the little things that count.

In fact, the little things may be the big things.

Let me explain.

Every day I come home and get an amazing greeting from two beautiful dogs and a sweet little bird who whistles at me.

The dogs pin me on the couch, and we wrestle and play and right then and there I can shake the day’s stressors and transition to an oasis I call home.

I live in a beautiful neighborhood where people wave, the kids are polite, and we look out for each other. That’s pretty cool in 2023.

Every morning I wake up and look forward to seeing the same two dogs (and my wife of course). One little guy jumps on my chair (which has become his chair) and the other bursts through the door wagging her tail and looking for a sock she can steal.

You fill up on these little things.

I’m sure you have your own small joys. They are to be savored.

In the spirit of the season, here are 10 things to be thankful for.

  1. Teachers- they don’t do it for the money. But if you’ve had a great teacher you’ve been given a lifelong gift more valuable than anything money can buy.

My daughter is a special education teacher in Wake County, North Carolina. She was recently chosen to mentor other teachers, and we couldn’t be prouder. If she can transfer her passion for children to younger teachers, she will become an even bigger force multiplier. As for me, I’m still in touch with my 4th grade teacher through the magic of Facebook. Every day, I’m boosted by his positive posts, and reminded of his influence on generations of students. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s a Giants and Yankees fan. Wink 😉.

  1. Great police officers and firefighters- I just read an article about how police chiefs are reimagining the culture of law enforcement to emphasize a mission of service. While I was reading, all I could think about was how the Delray Beach Police Department has been doing that for more than 30 years. We are so fortunate to have an excellent PD and FD. It’s been a game changer for this community. I’m grateful to remain close to several officers and firefighters. Many are now retired, but they remain active and involved. Their work built the foundation for our success and their stellar service will ensure our future. I’m so grateful. Most people I know feel the same way.

3. Cool mornings at Lake Ida Park—there’s not enough of them, but when you catch the right day, and you see the birds and wildlife it centers you.

4. Gallagher’s finally opened up in Boca–If you’re from New York, you know about the legendary steakhouse. We now have our own version on Glades Road. My best friend’s uncle— we called him “Uncle T” —used to work at Gallagher’s in NYC. So now I get to think about that great guy every time I visit or drive by.

5. We have a bookstore in town! Welcome Barnes and Noble. If you get a chance, pick up Commissioner Rob Long’s new children’s book “The Great Weather Diviner” written with Andrew Dolberg. Oh, and ask them to stock “Adventures in Local Politics” by that guy..I can’t remember his name but the book was pretty good. The new store in the Delray Plaza is a welcome addition.

6. The movies– Don’t miss The Holdovers with the amazing Paul Giamatti. And see it on a big screen if you can. It was playing at Cinemark in Boca. There’s still something magical about the movies.

7. Impact 100–  based in Boca Raton, this innovative philanthropic initiative started a new program to inspire the next generation of young women to become philanthropists. It’s called NextGen and it’s a brilliant idea.

8. Amanda Perna- I’m grateful for Amanda Perna. The talented co-host of Delray Morning Live is also a gifted entrepreneur and designer. She recently ran into some adversity when she lost an entire collection to a fire. But in true Amanda fashion, she’s going to find a way forward. You can support her by visiting her this holiday season in the Arts Warehouse. She’s on the second floor.

9. New Beatles stuff- here we are in 2023, and the world is still talking about The Beatles. There’s a wonderful podcast McCartney: A Life in Lyrics, a book of the same name, a new AI enabled song and two new remastered albums to savor. I’m enjoying it all!  Oh, and the Rolling Stones just released a great new album called Hackney Diamonds. It’s 2023 and we are talking about new Stones and Beatles music! I’m thankful.

10. The concept of a next season–This is kind of a life lesson. There’s usually a new season to look forward too if things are a little awry in your world. Which makes me think of my New York Giants—there’s always next year. I’ll be grateful when this season ends.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.

Thanks for reading, be safe, I’m grateful for all of you. But especially Randy because he reads to the end and always says nice things. And my friend Scott in Virginia who always takes the time to comment. Nothing made me smile more than seeing him on our recent Zoom call with his grandson William. He’s a grandpa! Where did the time go? My friend wears the years well. I knew he would.

 

 

 

 

 

The Teachers In Our Midst

The chiefs who left a legacy: Kerry Koen and Rick Overman attending the Bronze Star ceremony at Old School Square for retired Officer Skip Brown.

If you’re lucky, teachers show up in your life long after you’ve tossed your last mortar board in the air.

I’m lucky.

I’ve been blessed with the best teachers imaginable.

They’ve taught me lessons large and small. They’ve taught me things I didn’t know, and they have reminded me of things I may have forgotten but shouldn’t have.

The best teachers may not even know that they’re educators, they just share their hard-earned wisdom in doses you can absorb and at times when you need to hear what they have to say.

This piece is dedicated to my good friend Kerry Koen. To call Kerry a teacher is an understatement. He’s more like a professor and I’ve hung on to every word of his eloquent lectures for a long time now.

If the name Kerry Koen rings a bell, it’s because he’s a revered retired fire chief who served both Delray Beach and Boca Raton with distinction.

Chief Koen is universally respected, and that’s a rare thing these days.

Let’s face it; we’re a cynical lot, aren’t we? Not the good readers of this blog of course, but society as a whole.

We’ve become snarky and insensitive. We don’t give weight to expertise, service, integrity, intelligence, and kindness.

Institutions we once had faith in, we no longer trust.

But I still believe.

I believe in the good people I’ve met and grown to love and respect.

In the top tier of that list is my friend and teacher Kerry.

We became friends through my involvement in Delray—first as a reporter, later as a city commissioner and finally as a mayor and now way beyond that blip in my life.

Kerry had left Delray before I got elected and served Boca with distinction before being lured back by City Manager David Harden.

We had a solid relationship during my commission tenure; Kerry taught me a lot about the fire service and the challenges of serving a city as complex as Delray Beach.

Our downtown had come to life on his watch and while that was good, it presents challenges as well, especially if you are in the public safety business. Large crowds, lots of traffic, special events, tourists, alcohol. It’s a lot.

Then 9/11 happened and our world and our little city changed. Now when we rode with firefighters on the bright red engines and handed out treats on Halloween, we would receive calls from panicked parents concerned that the sugar spilled on the kitchen table from their kid’s candy buckets might be anthrax. We found out that several of the 9/11 plotters were living in our city—going to our library, filling prescriptions at our downtown pharmacy, attending our local gyms.

It was the end of the innocence. Our world was forever changed.

In dangerous times, we look for extraordinary leadership. Our little city had that with Chief Koen and Chief Rick Overman, who ran our police department.

A few weeks ago, I wrote that Mayor David Schmidt never lost sleep about doings at City Hall because he had faith in city staff. I’ve been thinking about that statement, and it was true for me as well.

I lost sleep over my ability to handle a racially charged shooting, hurricanes, and other controversies but I never lost sleep over whether our fire or police departments could protect and serve us.

I had faith in the men and women who served, and that faith continues today. And in my opinion, Kerry played a big role in building a magnificent Fire Department that continues to serve us long after his retirement.

We can trust that when we dial 911 that we will receive top-notch services. We can trust that if we face an emergency—manmade or Mother Nature- that we are in good hands.

Kerry’s superpower —so to speak— is to always see the big picture. He has an analytical mind and draws connections to the past and the future. He “sees” where we are headed and generously shares his thoughts which are prescient, deeply felt and ultimately hopeful.

He sees trends and is steeped in history.

But he’s also current and forward-thinking, which is of great help to those of us who cherish his friendship.

Still, I find myself thinking of his time as chief and how deeply I admired his approach to the job.

We are a diverse community and Kerry got out of his office at the main station on West Atlantic to engage with civic leaders. He grew close to people like Alfred “Zack” Straghn, a local civil rights icon, and he cultivated strong relationships with the people of Highland Beach. His department served Highland Beach and he took that mission to heart.

The relationship between Delray and Highland Beach was win-win and now that’s gone. Losing that contract is a loss for both municipalities—a mistake that I would wager would not have happened if Kerry could have helped it.

After my 7 years of service, Kerry vowed to stay in touch. And he did. He made the effort. We began to meet for lunch and conversation. There were phone calls and emails too. Every interaction is memorable. He taught and I listened and learned.

He sent me interesting pieces to read, suggested subjects for this blog, shared wonderful photos of his travels and coached me through my ups and downs.

He showed me things—passages from books, meaningful quotes, historical tidbits and invited me into his home to show me a fire bell display he had built over time.

He has such unique insights. He sees the things I miss. He changes how I view issues and how I see the world itself.

And remarkably, I am not alone. There is a large cohort of us who benefit from Kerry’s generous intellect. He has “groups” in Boca and Delray—connections in Chicago, Memphis and Illinois that he tends too lovingly.

Some of us know each other and we marvel at his capacity to build and sustain relationships.

When I think of the richness of this world, how much there is to know, experience and learn, I get overcome with gratitude.

The experts say there is an epidemic of loneliness in this world. Last week, loneliness was labeled a public health issue.

There is no vaccine for loneliness, but there is a remedy: connection.

These days my community involvement is much smaller than it used to be. Some of it is cultural, (Delray is a different place but a new day has dawned!), some of it is where I am in life and in my career, but I’ve tried to keep up as best I can with the special people. We may not see each other much, but the connection is there.

The ties that happily bind us all.

With Kerry Koen it’s easy, because he makes the effort, checks in and because he cares so much.

He’s remarkable. A gift—- to so many lives. And for that I am  forever grateful.

 

 

Living Life In Crescendo

“The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.”

― Pablo Picasso

Pablo has a point.

I heard that morsel of wisdom during a podcast interview with Cynthia Covey Haller, the daughter of Stephen Covey, who wrote the book “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People.”

Ms. Haller has a new book out called “Live Life in Crescendo: Your Most Important Work Is Always Ahead of You.”
In the book, she tries to channel the thoughts of her father who was in his late 50s when he had his greatest success. Stephen Covey was living proof that late in life success was possible and having an “ever-forward-looking” attitude– as he described it— was a key to success.

In music, the term crescendo describes a gradual increase in loudness or intensity. Applied to life, it means we should always be building toward something. (Like my friend Randy).

I like that approach. It’s aspirational.

And that “crescendo” mindset should apply to your business, your town, your volunteer work… everything, especially your relationships. Basically, it’s a belief that life can get better.

The opposite is something called a “decrescendo” which, when applied to life, means that the best times are in your rear-view mirror.

As we approach Thanksgiving, I find myself thankful for the people in my life who are living a life of crescendo. They energize and inspire me and everyone around them.

Now living life in crescendo doesn’t mean that you will experience ever growing success…people, athletes, businesses and even relationships experience peaks and valleys. But it does mean we should continue to aspire.

Aspire…what a beautiful word. It comes from the Latin “aspirare”, which means ‘to breathe’.

To breathe is to live and to aspire is to pursue great deeds.

So, this Thanksgiving I am grateful for all those who aspire to do great deeds.

Everywhere I look, there are good people who wake up every day trying to make their corner of the world a better place.

Old School Square’s board of directors are a prime example. Kicked to the curb by an ungrateful city government, the volunteers continue to support schools and local artists. They are the best people I know.

At the Knights of Pythagoras Mentoring Network, my friend C. Ron Allen works day after day, year after year, with our youth giving them experiences and knowledge that they will use to navigate a difficult world.

The EJS Project is also remarkable. This non-profit is doing important work in the heart of our city with our children. They are building a better tomorrow.

The Milagro Center is aptly named, because they work miracles for our children as does Ali Kaufman and her team at Space of Mind. The Community Classroom Project is the kind of innovation we need.

I’m a big fan of our Public Library and especially of Kae Johnsons who works tirelessly to make Delray a better place.

And the list goes on…especially of those people of a certain age living a life of crescendo.

For instance, there’s retired Fire Chief Kerry Koen, who teaches me something every time we speak. Now granted, I have a lot to learn, but Chief Koen’s lessons are profound and lasting.

My dad, at age 84, remains vital and vibrant, a positive example of how to live a life of grace and humility. Fran, his significant other, is special too.

Frances Bourque is an inspiration to generations of civic leaders in Delray. For those of us who know all that she has brought to our community; we are thankful. For those who have missed this wonderful woman’s gifts—well it’s not too late to call on her for advice, she’s awfully generous.

The team at the Delray Chamber is to be commended for building community and looking beyond the important interests of the business community to care about the entirety of the community. They present a powerful message of inclusion and hope for the future. We Are Delray is their motto. And we are.

My wife and best friend Diane, who has embraced retirement with gusto—rescuing pets, helping neighbors, staying in touch with friends, learning Italian and shining a light on Parkinson’s lives a life in crescendo. For Diane, I am eternally grateful.

Wishing you all a happy, healthy, and safe Thanksgiving.

Thanks for reading!

 

All There Is….

A blessing in my life for 34 years.

My sister Sharon and I lost our mother 24 years ago today.

Twenty-four years is not a landmark anniversary. There’s nothing special about 24 years, other than it feels like a lifetime ago. So much has changed.

My mom’s name was Fay. If you Google her, nothing comes up. Google was founded September 4, 1998, almost exactly a month before she died. But even if she lived, it’s doubtful she would have done something that would have made her “internet worthy”. She lived a simple life. A good life.

Sometimes I feel people like my mom get lost. But they lived. And they matter. In my world, and the world of my family, nobody mattered more. She was indispensable.

And then she was gone.

Even now, the permanence stabs at me.

So much has changed.

My mom’s granddaughter Samantha is well into her career as a special education teacher and her two little grandsons will both turn 30 soon. They were little kids when they lost their grandmother. She’s a faint memory for them and that alone is enough to break your heart.

The years pile on, the world moves so fast.

A friend of mine lost a beloved sibling a few years back. She recently marked another year of loss and said that while the lump in her throat is gone, she still grieves— quietly.

I do too.

I think grief is the love you have inside that goes unexpressed. Your loved one is gone but your heart is still full. What do you with all this unexpressed love?

Our mother was 59 years old when she passed away after a brave and brutal 50-week battle with cancer.

I just turned 58. I am deeply aware that I am approaching her lifespan and it’s on my mind.

The age we lost her was front and center in my thoughts during my near fatal bout with Covid in July-August 2020. During my darkest moments—and there were many—I couldn’t help but think: ‘I will be younger than my mom when she passed, and she was so young’. She missed so much.

Happy times, stone washed jeans and Long Island nights.

Lately, I have been dreaming of her. Those dreams come and go. While I think about her every day, I sometimes won’t dream about her for months at a time.

But these days, she’s a frequent presence in my dreams and a recurring one has me sitting in a park trying to explain to her what’s happened to everyone since we said goodbye at Hospice by The Sea in Boca Raton.

Her granddaughter is a devoted teacher. She loves her students, and they love her back. I revel in the stories she tells me about a child who makes progress, overcomes an issue, gains confidence, reaches a goal etc. I couldn’t be prouder.

Her grandson Ben…who was a wild child… “all boy” as they say, grew up to be an accountant. We didn’t see that coming.

Back when my mom was around, we were happy if we returned from the mall without losing him. You’d turn around and he’d be gone. But these days, he’s mature, smart and thoughtful. An old soul. Her other grandson, Andrew, is a Ph.D., candidate in Washington D.C. researching the Holocaust on his way to becoming a professor. He’s a wonderful writer and a traveler too. We didn’t see that coming either.

Had she lived, mom would have added two more grandsons to her brood; my stepsons Alex and Viktor, fine young men who would have enriched her life immeasurably.

My mom never met the love of my life, Diane. She didn’t get to see my dad age gracefully. At 84, he still turns heads and remains my go-to guy for life advice.

So much has changed.

Never miss a chance to dance.

America is a different place. I wish I could say that we are a better, closer country but I can’t.

Delray Beach and South Florida have also changed. Some of the changes are good, some are not so good.

None of it would have mattered much to my mother. She liked it here.

She was happy enjoying the simple things in life with family and friends. If family was around, she was cool. What a great example she was, if only I could follow her lead. If only…

So here we are mom…24 years down the road, 24 years without you.

We are doing well, blessed in so many ways. But there’s still that ache, there are still waves of grief that engulf me. The waves hit when I see Sam smile and see your smile in hers. When I talk to my sister and realize that she has your exact voice and so many of your best qualities.

I now realize that grief is the price we pay for love. And we should be grateful for both because you can’t have one without the other. If you are going to love, you are going to feel loss someday.  It’s a price worth paying. It’s taken me a lifetime to understand that. A lifetime to accept that trade.

For years after losing you, my sadness lurked in the bushes like a stalker. I could be having the best time only to be reminded of your absence and I’d find myself overcome with sadness. When the rainy days would come, as they do for everyone, I’d find myself wishing to be transported back to the days when everyone I loved was still here.

There you are with your friends playing Mah Jongg at the pool club, with grandma and grandpa and nanny speaking Yiddish and sneaking us chocolate kisses. Life seemed infinite. There was so much road ahead of us.

Those days are long gone. The losses pile up, like so many leaves.

But loss serves a purpose as well. The losses make us appreciate the here and now which is really good if we strip away the noise and distractions.

And we realize we carry pieces of those we lost in our hearts and minds—for all of our days.

So much has changed, but that never will. The love we feel endures.

Thankful For The Vaccine

The Health Care District did a great job.

On the day I got my first vaccine, Florida reported 5,093 new Covid cases and 94 more deaths bringing the death toll to 33,219 and the total case count to almost 2 million.

By the time you read this, those numbers will have increased. But we know that the numbers only tell part of the Covid story.

Every “stat” is a person with a family, friends—a life. This virus is a beast—it is not the flu.

Covid can be lethal and for those who survive but suffer  from “long hauler” symptoms, it’s not something that you can just power past.

So when I got an appointment to get my first shot last week at the South County Civic Center in West Delray I was thrilled.

Sometimes you don’t realize how stressed you are until you experience relief. And truth be told, I’ve been worried about re-infection and anxious about the variants I’ve been reading about.

I was able to book an appointment with two of my co-workers so went together. Like most Americans—indeed most humans—they’ve been touched by Covid with family members suffering from the virus and with a few relatives dying as a result.

We talked about how lucky we were to be getting the vaccine and how sad it is for those who died before a vaccine was available.

I’m especially grateful because I thought this virus was it for me. So when I sat down, rolled up my sleeve and thanked the Palm Beach Fire Rescue “vaccinator” for giving me the shot, I got a little choked up.

He asked me if everything was OK and I said “oh yeah, I am so happy to be sitting here right now.”

He talked to me briefly about soreness and side effects and truth be told, I barely listened. Because a little soreness or a fever doesn’t compare with 39 days in the hospital wondering if I’d ever see my loved ones again. Bring it on, if it spares millions from the horrors of this disease I’m all in.

Yes, I’ve seen the anti-vaxxer screeds on the Internet and social media—isn’t the First Amendment grand? But I’m throwing my lot in with the scientists. I have faith in them. I am so grateful for their efforts.

These vaccines are modern day miracles, I believe they will save millions of lives.

That’s my  firm belief.

Everyone is entitled to their own views, but I’m rooting for people to take the vaccine and I’m rooting for herd immunity because I’ve felt the ferocity of this virus from inside the belly of the beast. It didn’t want to let me go and it has claimed a ridiculous amount of lives.

And every day…every single day… when I ache, experience headaches and feel some “brain fog” I am reminded that I had this thing.

I don’t say this to elicit sympathy, I know that I am a very lucky man.

I chose at the beginning of this experience to share with you the good, the bad and the ugly in the hope, that maybe my sharing would raise some awareness.

So we chronicled it all. I say we because I’ve had a lot of help all along the way.

We talked about long haul issues and the emotional aspects of Covid, because the pandemic has unleashed a lot of trauma on society.

To continue in that vein,  I wanted to come full circle and share about vaccines.

My belief: they are safe and effective.

My hope: you will get vaccinated.

After taking the shot, they ask you to stay 15 minutes to see if you have a reaction. I sat with a bunch of people who were just jubilant. You could sense the relief and the emotion in the room. A woman nearby cried softly and said she wished her mother had lived long enough to get the vaccine–Covid took her a few months before the shots were approved. Yet, amidst the sadness there was a lot of joy and a lot of relief too.

I sat there with a sense of hope and pride; hope for a better future and pride that we have the scientific chops to protect humanity. It was a very powerful moment.

Let’s do all we can to get our lives back.

Let’s do all we can to help our health care workers who have been through so much and let’s support our local businesses who have suffered mightily by doing what we can to venture out again.

That’s my hope, that’s my prayer. I hope you and your loved ones are spared now and forever.

 

 

 

 

A Different Kind of Mother’s Day

I’ve been thinking a lot about moms these days.

My mom would have turned 81 this week but we lost her in 1998 and ever since, Mother’s Day has been a bittersweet holiday for me.
I miss my mom terribly, so the day is tinged with a trace of sadness although I must say that my gratitude for having had a wonderful mother far outweighs any melancholy I may feel.

It’s also a happy day because my two children and my two stepchildren have been absolutely blessed with amazing mothers.
Kathy and Diane are exceptional mothers. Both are kind, nurturing, warm, encouraging and 100 percent dedicated to the happiness and well being of their/our children.
It’s flat out inspiring.
My mother was like that too;
always there for me and Sharon.
For that and a million other reasons I am forever grateful.
And so as we approach a Mother’s Day unlike any other I have a few thoughts.
If you are lucky enough to still have a mom, try and take a moment to savor how fortunate you are. In many cases, you may not be able to see or hug her given the situation but if she’s still here count your blessings.

On this Mother’s Day, I’m going to remember my wonderful mom and do my best to honor the mom I’m quarantined with—my beautiful wife.
I also want to offer a shout out to a few special ladies in Delray that I’ve noticed are amazing moms. This list is not by any means definitive. I will surely leave out so many wonderful moms. Please forgive me.
 But I do want to say Happy Mother’s Day to Rita Ellis, Frances Bourque, Susan Ruby, Lula Butler, Janet Meeks, Vera Farmington, Cynthia Ridley, Michelle Hoyland, Jen Costello, Diane Franco, Lori Nolan, Marjorie Waldo, Evelyn Dobson, Barbara Fitz and Donna Quinlan—mothers who balanced public service with busy personal lives. We know that isn’t easy.
Happy Mother’s Day Melissa Porten, Kim Thomas, Linda Greenberg, Amanda Perna, Ryan Lynch, Pam Halberg, Teresa Paterson, Maria Poliacek, Maritza Benitez, Karen Vermilyea, Sharon Sperling, Karen Zolnierek, Hilary Lynch, Diane Alperin, Connie Barcinski, Lucy Carney, Billie Christ, Karen Granger, Elizabeth Mitchell, Debbie Smith, Sharon Wood, Cassidee Boylston, Debbie Bathurst, Fran Finch, Elaine Morris, Suzanne Carter,  Fran Fisher, Sharon Sperling and the Miracle mom herself Julia Kadel.
Thanks for all you do.
So if we miss our mother’s hugs these days be it because they have passed, live far away or because we are practicing social distancing please remember: a mother’s hug lasts long after she lets go.

Life. Interrupted.

Signs of the times.

 

So much has changed.

In the blink of an eye.
That’s what’s so astonishing.
How everything about our existence can change in a matter of days.
Now intellectually we all know that. We all know that life can change in an instant.
But emotionally I’m not sure how many of us could have truly grasped how a virus could upend our lives—upend our entire world.  Until now.
A month ago, corona was a beer and we didn’t really know terms like social distancing and Covid-19. We sure do now.
There is a twilight zone aspect to this pandemic.
I’m writing this sitting in my backyard on a beautiful night and it feels like I’m living in paradise.
But somewhere out there is this virus that can kill and it’s a sobering thought. There is a Russian Roulette aspect to this pandemic that makes it extra scary.
Some may have it and never know. Some will feel fine and crash. If they do, they will die alone.
I think of my older friends, my father and my friends parents and worry about their well-being.
But I also know that younger people are susceptible as well and that no one is truly safe.
I marvel at the bravery of our medical community, first responders and all those who work in essential jobs. They are at risk but they persist.
All around me are examples of quiet heroism.
People trying to support their favorite local businesses, CEOs and business owners trying to take care of their employees and teachers who are going above and beyond.
A friend of mine told me about what’s happening at Trinity Lutheran School up the street from where I live. Teachers giving up Spring Break so they can keep teaching the children that they are so devoted too.
It fills your heart.
Papas Tapas, one of my favorite restaurants, is feeding first responders and hospital workers at a time when their sales have to be hurting.
I see small business owners reaching out to the Small Business Administration for loans to keep their people employed.
In my dark moments, I feel like a prisoner unable to go anywhere or do anything. It’s no fun to see the stock market plummet and your life savings dwindle. It’s no fun to see business endeavors die and it’s frustrating because we can’t see the bottom yet and don’t really know when or how this will end.
But..in my more hopeful moments, I see all the good in the community and in the wider world. And I wonder, if perhaps, we will come out the other side of this better people.
We will ever take lunch with a friend for granted again?
We will ever decide to skip that party or that trip because we’re tired or there’s always next year?
I will be grateful when this ends. And I’m praying it is not as bad as the best case scenarios are predicting. But when it ends I’m hopeful that this experience leaves us appreciative of all things large and small.
The ability to see your friends.
The chance to have lunch with your dad.
The opportunity to go to a wedding or a birthday party or to visit your favorite watering hole.
We may be a long way from those days. I sure hope not. But it may be a ways off. But that day will come.
Until then, be careful, be safe and use this time to see what you can do to support the simple things we love about our community.

And It’s Still Alright

Nathaniel Rateliff

Two weeks along, I find myself unable to let go of Valentine’s Day.

Unable to let go of things I love.

Or maybe I’m just more appreciative than usual.

I’m writing this sitting in my backyard in Delray Lakes gazing out over a lake listening to Nathaniel Rateliff sing “And it’s Still Alright” and watching egrets wade into the canal on a beautiful winter day. Florida in February, when it’s right and today is right, can’t be beat.

The song is sad yet hopeful. It’s about the artist burying a friend and losing his wife. Heavy stuff. But it’s still alright. There’s hope in the darkness, there’s a path back from the sadness.

We have it pretty good here in Florida. We have it pretty good here in Delray Beach.

During the hustle and bustle of the week, I can sometimes lose sight of how good.

I sometimes forget to slow down long enough to absorb the sights and the sounds of life in what most people would describe as paradise.
But not this year. This year I am going to appreciate the little things.

A text from a good friend who says she is thinking of me and my family.

A call from a cousin I haven’t spoken to in awhile.

Watching my two dogs sleep and my birds sing (in between making a huge mess).

I scroll through social media and it’s an odd cross between a highlight reel and a hate rally.
People posting pictures of their weekend trips and outings and the usual suspects ranting on the political pages.
Today, I’m turning them both off.

I’m resolved to write more, to read good books, to listen to more great music.
I’m set on more drives on A1A, more trips to parks, more long walks with the love of my life and more time with family and friends.
More meaning. More good times.
Lord willing….it will still be alright.