heroism | Your Delray Boca

Louis “Skip”Brown was 73.

Skip Brown passed away last Tuesday.He was a friend of this city.

Skip touched a lot of hearts. He gave his all, always. Then he retired to a small town in Alabama.Skip served 20 years as a Delray Beach police officer, gaining local fame for his work with the K-9 unit and later as the department’s volunteer coordinator back in the days when we had over 1,000 volunteers.Skip gained national recognition for some of his programs especially the Homefront Security group he put together after 9/11.He was a bronze star winner for heroism on the battlefields of Vietnam and he came back to Old School Square to accept the medal which was given 45 years after he served. He chose me to pin it on him.It was an incredible honor and we did our best to create a special ceremony for him. It was a memorable day for a memorable man.It was the last time I saw him.We had dinner with Skip, his lovely wife Cheryl and former Chief Rick Overman and his wife at Boston’s on the Beach and said goodbye.When he left, he grabbed me, pulled me close and said there was no one else he wanted to put that medal on him and no other place he wanted to accept that long overdue honor than in Delray Beach, at Old School Square.This place touched him. And he really touched this place.P.S. Moments after I placed that medal on his chest he took it off and gave it to the children of a friend so that they could have a reminder of sacrifice and patriotism. The lucky kids were the son and a daughter of a retired firefighter and a local reporter. That was how tightnit this town was, there is a special bond between police and fire. Skip wanted retired Fire Chief Kerry Koen in the Crest Theater for the ceremony. Chief Koen was there sitting next to Chief Overman, a man Skip deeply admired.These are the ties that bind, for a lifetime or a season.

The Bronze Star ceremony at the Crest.

Skip and I had a complicated relationship. Skip was a complicated man.He was impacted by his experiences in Southeast Asia and by his experiences in Delray Beach which was a different town back in the 80s. Skip worked road patrol when Delray was wracked and wrecked by crack cocaine. He had stories and I listened.I was a newspaper reporter in those days and Skip and his wife Cheryl lived around the block from me with their birds and K-9 German shepherds.He had my daughter’s Brownie troop over to his house so they could meet the pets and he once brought Olk and Rambo to my backyard to show a group of neighborhood children the power and the discipline of a highly trained K-9.We used to meet at the end of Skip’s shift in my driveway where we would talk about life and Delray until the wee hours of the morning.We grew close. He referred to me as a brother. And I had great respect for his vision, commitment and dedication to this community and especially the senior citizens he recruited for his volunteer patrols.Many were World War II veterans, members of the Greatest Generation, and in Skip they found a kindred spirit who understood their service and who appreciated their passion to give back.CNN, documentarians, authors and academics came to Delray to take a closer look at the magic that was happening at our Police Department. President Bush greeted one of Skip’s volunteers at PBIA and Gov. Bush came to Old School Square after 9/11 to honor the work being done.When a volunteer got sick, Skip was there—many times at a hospice bed providing comfort and kindness.He was a gruff man. He was big and strong and tough as they get. But he had a heart of gold. There was a gentleness beneath the surface that we saw and savored.

When he retired, Skip and Cheryl moved to Alabama and we stayed in touch periodically but we grew apart too. Proximity matters, and we were far away. And the bond that we shared—Delray Beach—had frayed. The town changed, the volunteer program wasn’t quite the same, the Greatest Generation began to leave us.Still, we experienced and shaped a very special era. Every day I’m reminded of what we had and what we’ve lost.But Skip and I stayed friends, until one day we drifted apart for good.

But before we drifted, when I got sick with Covid, Skip reached out with prayers and support. When I made it through the dark days, he talked to me about PTSD and survivors guilt. He told me I was spared for a reason and he sent me articles to help.But we had our differences too. We had different views on guns and presidential candidates.Still, he called me a brother. And then our relationship stopped —abruptly.I do not know what happened. I am left to wonder. We just drifted apart. I’ve been bothered by our inexplicable estrangement. I think about it a lot.And now he’s gone. Just like that. And I have all these questions and no answers.But I do know this, I never stopped caring about my old friend, the man who taught me so much.Right now, I’m saddened by the loss of this special man. I will miss his guitar videos, his love of stray raccoons, his sense of mission and his sense of duty.I’m sharing this personal reminiscence because I blew it when it came to this man.I let our long period of silence persist and now he’s gone.Don’t let that happen to you.Life is a long and bumpy road and along that road we meet fellow travelers.Skip was with me for many miles before we went our separate ways. And now he’s gone. If only I had one more night with my friend under the streetlights. We could have talked about what we learned. How it all turned out. What was next for us.That won’t happen now.Skip changed my life and the lives of many others.Don’t let those people go. One more lesson Skip Brown taught me. Rest in peace my brother.

Here’s a link to the WPTV Channel 5 News Story about the Bronze Star: https://www.wptv.com/news/region-s-palm-beach-county/delray-beach/retired-delray-policeman-awarded-bronze-star-45-years-after-vietnam?utm_content=bufferc5c4b&utm_medium=social&utm_source=twitter.com&utm_campaign=buffer&fbclid=IwAR1mToGqoK-CULsySdo9F9NTbIAx02FfYm64tdMAtO-XrlcQR4ALZfOMBGE

Two Bright Lights Gone

NYPD Officers Rivera and Mora. RIP.

Two New York City police officers were gunned down last week, and I haven’t been able to shake off the story.

Sometimes I think we are numbed by the cascade of bad news so it’s oddly comforting to know that a story can still break through the clutter and hit you square in the heart.

For me, the deaths of Wilbert Mora and Jason Rivera hit hard.

Sadly, officers are killed in the line of duty all the time. But something about this tragedy resonated deeply. What was it?

I thought about that last week, and I came up with a few answers.

First, it was the age of the two officers who died: 27 and 22. I have sons around that age. It hit home.

These men were just starting their lives of service and that hit home too. What a tremendous loss.

I was also touched by the poignant words of New York Police Commissioner Keechant Sewell on Officer Mora:

“Wilbert is 3 times a hero. For choosing a life of service. For sacrificing his life to protect others. For giving life even in death through organ donation. Our heads are bowed, and our hearts are heavy.”

Doctors removed his kidneys, heart, pancreas and liver for lifesaving transplants, with five recipients identified and the organs delivered later in the day.

It’s tragic beyond words that his life was cut so tragically short after a domestic violence call turned disastrous.

Similarly, Officer Rivera, only 22, leaves a legacy of service and caring for the community.

He grew up in Manhattan as part of an immigrant family. He joined the New York Police Department with a goal of bettering the relationship between officers and the community — all inspired by his own family’s difficult encounters with police. Officer Rivera wanted to be a police officer so he could change those interactions. He wanted to be the first in his family to wear a badge. He achieved that goal only to be cut down in his rookie year.

These losses remind us that no call is routine for an officer.

It’s a dangerous business.

Over the years, I had the privilege to get to know scores of police officers in Delray Beach and a few in other jurisdictions as well.

I had the opportunity to “ride along” with many officers and special units and got a glimpse of what they are up against.

I know it was just a glimpse, but it was enough to convince me that a good police department is absolutely essential if you want to live in a good city.

That goes for fire as well.

If you can’t offer safety in your community—you have nothing. It all starts with safety.

Back in my ride along days which started in the 1980s, Delray officers were combating the scourge of crack cocaine which led to violent crime and turf wars.

These days, officers are up against opioid addiction, mental illness, homelessness and more.

As we have seen, officers are also up against people who are heavily armed. The two officers in NYC were cut down by a gun that was modified so that it functioned as a machine gun.

We’ve spent the better part of the last few years knee-deep in a debate about policing in this country.

That debate has been divisive and at times ugly. Like a lot of things in this country and frankly our own city these days.

Why does it always have to be that way? Why does it always have to turn ugly?
Why do we feel the need to demonize those who disagree with us?

But maybe the better question is where are we? What does all of this mean and where does it lead?

I would argue that hatred breeds more hatred and violence breeds ever more violence.

Where is the light?

Where is the light to brighten these dark days?

Last week, we met with our financial advisor for our annual check-up.

For the first time in my memory, civil unrest was mentioned as a potential risk alongside the usual bogeymen– inflation, recession, and volatility.

Civil unrest? In America? Yes, it can happen here.

Recently, I saw Congressman Adam Schiff give a speech to the Forum Club.

His new book is called “Midnight in Washington” and it discusses a raft of threats to our Democracy: election integrity, hyper partisanship, division, and everyone walking around with their own set of facts.

It’s an awful lot to process; an awful lot to live with day after day.

It’s dark at midnight…but darkness is also followed by light but only if we work to make it so.

Last week, two bright lights were lost in Harlem when they walked down a hallway and were met by a hail of gunfire. All of their promise…all they had to give this world …gone forever in a spasm of nonsensical violence. When you read something like that and allow yourself to absorb the enormity of it, you realize there are no do-overs. All of their potential gone in a few seconds.

We cannot afford to lose our bright lights.

On the internet, I found a letter that Officer Rivera, age 22, wrote to his commanding officer at the police academy.

“When I applied to become a police officer, I knew this was the career for me,” he wrote. “I would be the first person in my family to become a police officer. Coming from an immigrant family, I will be the first to say that I am a member of the NYPD, the greatest police force in the world. Growing up in New York City, I realized how impactful my role as a police officer would be in this chaotic city of about 10 million people. I know that something as small as helping a tourist with directions, or helping a couple resolve an issue, will put a smile on someone’s face.”

We need more people who long to put smiles on people’s faces and a lot less of those who seek to do harm.

Rest in Peace Officer Rivera.

Have mercy on us all.

My Friend Was A Hero

Two Bright Lights Gone