26 August, 2024 37 37 Comments

On Turning 60

August 26, 2024 By 37 Comments

My wife and a dedicated team of bakers, icers and friends made these. They are delicious.

“The file labeled me isn’t finished.”
I saw that sentence somewhere recently and I wrote it down a few hours later because I couldn’t let go of the thought.

I don’t remember where I saw those words, but they spoke to me like the best sentences do.
I just turned 60.  Today.

It’s a number. Quite a number. There’s more road behind me than ahead, but still it’s just a number.
It feels like you blink and decades of your life flies by.

Childhood, high school, college, first job, marriage, kids, career—love and loss. Laughter and tears.
Plenty of laughter, plenty of tears.

I think many of us live on three planes—the past, the present and the future.
We reflect and we remember. We take the day to day as it comes. We meet our deadlines and we strive to honor our commitments. We decide what  to leave in and we decide what  to leave out.  We try and think ahead. We invest our hopes in a better tomorrow.

That hopeful mindset is how I navigate the world. I look back fondly and often, I try  to be present and I dream about tomorrow.
But when you hit 60, there’s a shift. Tomorrow— which is never guaranteed — is here.

Earlier this year, my friend Randy sent me a chart with rows of chairs -10 across- representing each decade of life.
There are 8 rows that most of us feel we can be around to experience, the 9th row is in red, because making it beyond 90 is tough.
That chart has both haunted and focused me ever since he sent it.

I just entered the 6th row. There are only a few rows left —if I’m lucky. Moreover, within those rows is the logical conclusion that the age I am now will be better than the years ahead. I’ve been told by older friends that aging isn’t for sissies. I believe it.
But there’s something liberating about this stage of life.

I find myself happy with where I’ve been and where I’m at. I take joy in those I love. I’m surrounded by friends, have meaningful work and feel pretty good.
I’ve decided to let some things go, try a few new things and spend as much time enjoying the goodness in this world. And there plenty of goodness in this world.
Give me family, friends, pets, music, a good book and good conversation. I don’t need things but I want and crave experiences. And I want to make time for what’s important. As my friend Scott Porten says..we’ve got things to do.

For me, that’s time with my wife and best friends, visits with my children, travel to a few places, time in Maine, writing and learning all I can because this world fascinates me.
I’m also going to remain involved in the world via the Carl Angus DeSantis Foundation, which is the most inportant work I’ve done in my life. To find this kind of work as a career capper has been a blessing. Philanthropy has reawakened my passion for trying to make my corner of the world a better place. That I get to do this work with a wonderful teammate, a supportive board and in the name of a man who changed my life is an honor and a blessing. Carl DeSantis was so good to me and to so many others. I miss him beyond words.

I’m at an age where I’m sometimes asked for advice. And truth be told, I’m flattered and I always want to help but I’ve lived such an unconventional life that I feel I can’t offer a recipe, only a template.
Say yes to things that scare you.
Try new things, it’s ok to fail as long as you learn.

Surround yourself with people who lift you up, fulfill you and inspire you.
Try and see others and encourage them. Dare to love passionately. You will suffer more than a few broken hearts but you will survive and love again.
Everything I just wrote is a cliche. But it’s all true.

When I left college I got a newspaper job, I barely knew what I was doing and I was intimidated by the veterans that commanded the newsroom.
Newspaper reporters are great characters, and this group seemed so competent and confident. They were grizzled, and I was young, naive and far from confident. But I faked it until I made it.  I listened, I learned, I threw myself into the job and studied the greats sitting near me and working in other newsrooms and in time I got better.

When I went into business for myself, I was terrified. But I figured it out —in time.
When I went into politics, I was way, way over my skies but I joined a team that nurtured me and made me look like I knew what I was doing–at least some of the time.

Post politics I helped start a magazine, briefly owned part of a newspaper (a longtime dream), worked with a dear friend in public relations, did a lot of consulting work and freelance writing and then ran into a legendary entrepreneur who changed my life and asked me to help him with a little beverage company he believed in by the name of Celsius.

I wrote two books, a play, this blog, stayed with Carl’s family office and went into real estate and a slew of other businesses ranging from a hot sauce to whatever else caught my friends eye. What a ride!
And I was unprepared for all of it. I made all sorts of mistakes and invented a few along the way. But each day I woke up and vowed to do better.

Now we are diving into philanthropy in a big way, because big is what  Carl was about. He roared like a lion- literally. But he was humble too.
I tell my partner at the foundation that we are building the plane while flying it. We don’t know what we don’t know.
But isn’t that wonderful ? Isn’t that life?
I’ve been blessed.

And if it all ends tomorrow I’ve lived a good life.
Hopefully it won’t end quite yet and while I have great faith that there is something beyond this, I guess we really don’t know. But that’s one area I do have confidence in, I’ve found living proof. I’ve seen things, glimpses of something beyond. I know there’s meaning to this life. I’m keeping the faith.
The file is not closed on any of us if we learning from the past, believe in the present and focus on the future.

Thanks for reading and allowing me to share my life with you.

25 September, 2023 8 8 Comments

Remembering

September 25, 2023 By 8 Comments

Bones get tired

I woke up early this morning.

As is my Monday ritual, I grab my phone and open up Spotify.
Music helps me wake up and collect my thoughts.
Every Monday, this app is kind enough to give me a playlist called “Discover Weekly” and so I do. I discover new songs and rediscover some old ones too. I have to say, the algorithm gets me.
It has been a little over a month since I lost a mentor and friend and I still feel a little lost. More than a little lost.
When you lose someone fundamental to your life it can be hard to turn the page. But turn it we must. We must go on.
I know that intellectually; emotionally well that’s a whole other story.
Give it time, I tell myself. It’s still fresh I tell myself.
Today, is also Yom Kippur, the day of atonement. The holiest day on the Jewish calendar.
And so I’ll be spending my day reflecting, atoning for my sins and praying that my loved ones are in the book of life.
When I was a kid, I dreaded this day which was spent in a Long Island synagogue listening to prayers in a language I didn’t understand.
Inevitably, it was always a beautiful day, Indian summer we called it back then. I’m not sure that term is politically correct anymore but that’s what we called it.
It was a day off from school and my friends who weren’t Jewish were outside and in my mind’s eye having the best day ever while I chafed in a suit and tie waiting for services to end.
But these days, while far from observant, I appreciate the meaning, beauty and importance of ritual, observance and forgiveness.
And I miss my friend who was not in the “book of life.”
So when I began my day by turning on Spotify in the darkness of my room alone with my thoughts I “discovered” the song “Remembering” by Ashley Campbell. Ashley is Glen Campbell’s talented daughter.
We lost Glen a few years back to the scourge that is Alzheimer’s disease.
That damn disease is so cruel. That damn disease…it steals everything.
The song tells the story of a little girl seeking her father’s protection during a storm and the dad reassuring her that all is well and that she should enjoy the show. And she does.
He teaches her guitar and she plays him “Blackbird” and even though she misses notes he tells her it’s the best version he’s ever heard. And you know he’s telling the truth.
But bones get old. And the song mentions how the man who sings like an angel is slipping away.
“Bones get tired, and they can’t carry all the weightWe can talk until you can’t even remember my nameDaddy, don’t you worry, I’ll do the rememberingDaddy, don’t you worry, I’ll do the remembering.”
Yes, we will do the remembering and the grieving too.
I tried to end this little essay with something upbeat, something hopeful. That’s my nature.
But this morning I’m at a loss. I’ve had a loss and I just want to feel it because it’s real. And something is telling me I just need to sit with this for awhile.
May we all be in the book of life.
31 October, 2022 4 4 Comments

Quotes From The Edge

October 31, 2022 By 4 Comments

Dare to be different

I’ve always loved quotes.

I used to collect them, but my computer crashed years ago, and I lost them all.

I haven’t had the heart to start over.

But I still enjoy reading quotes and sometimes I save them in my phone—for what I don’t know. Future inspiration I suppose.

I came across a few this past week that got me thinking.

This one is from filmmaker George Lucas.

“The secret is not to give up hope. It’s very hard not to because if you’re really doing something worthwhile, I think you will be pushed to the brink of hopelessness before you come through the other side.”

This is an interesting thought and largely true. I think of the businesses we’ve been involved with and the fits and starts that they all seem to have. It’s never a straight line. It’s almost always a bumpy road full of pivots, near death experiences and a slew of ups and downs.

My first venture was an education newspaper that started in Delray. It was called “Student and Parent”, a boring title but it told the story of what we were focused on. We covered local schools, wrote about teachers and exceptional young people, and reported on the hot issues in education.

Unable to afford a sales staff to sell ads and wanting to keep our monthly paper free of charge, we decided to try and get corporate sponsors who believed in our mission and would back us for a year.

Frank McKinney was kind enough to loan us one of his oceanfront “spec” houses for a launch party. We figured the novelty of seeing the home would entice business leaders to attend. We were right, and ended up attracting enough sponsors to pay our expenses for a year. They didn’t even mind that my mom incinerated the hors d’ouevres in a convection oven she had never seen before.

We expanded to Boca and then Boynton and then went countywide with a name change. We were now “The Education Times”. We dropped off papers at every school that would have us, bundling papers and putting them in teachers’ mailboxes so they could be sent home in back packs. We also delivered papers to city halls, libraries, community centers and places where we felt families with kids might be.

It was a lot of work. And we did it on a shoestring. No investors; a modest credit line. All the (meager) profits were re-invested in the biz.

Along the way, we were pushed to the brink of hopelessness, as Mr. Lucas says, not sure if we would ever see the other side. My low point happened when my mother was diagnosed with a terminal illness and my partner injured his back and was unable to work. Was it time to throw in the towel? We were growing, but still not out of the woods.

We decided to push forward. And eventually we came out the other side when a media company decided to buy us out and hire us to run our paper and help run their publications.

Today, I’m pitched a steady stream of ideas from young and not so young entrepreneurs, and I always ask them whether they have the resilience to keep going when the going gets rough, because it always does.

It’s hard to measure grit. Most people think they have it, until they’re severely challenged and then they find out if they really do.

Mike Tyson used to say that everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth. He’s not a role model, but he’s sure right about that.

Sometimes it is prudent to know when to fold them, as the song says. But that’s an art as well because you never want to walk away too early. Life is one brushback pitch after another. You must stay in the batter’s box and wait for your pitch and then deliver.

Wanting to quit is a common feeling, but you must press on even if you have to start something else.

The second quote that grabbed me comes from Kurt Vonnegut.

“Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can’t see from the center. Big, undreamed-of things. The people on the edge see them first.”

This one intrigues me because I am a “center” kind of guy. I’m in the middle politically, appreciate compromise and like to think I’m reasonable. (This is where my friends and wife may chuckle, but they know deep down that I don’t mean to be difficult. For example, because I’m left-handed, I require sitting on the side of the table where my arm won’t bother people. I think that’s considerate, not difficult).

Still, “the edge” intrigues me. I admire the risk takers, the people who go against the grain, the game changers that the old Apple computer ad celebrated.

I’ve known a few and I work with one—Carl DeSantis– who bet big on vitamins and won and bet big on Celsius the beverage and won again. Let’s just say, he’s a human thrill ride and I mean that in a good way, because through it all he has remained humble, down to earth, kind and generous to everyone he comes across.

My friend Carl has a favorite painting of sunflowers. The painting depicts a sea of sunflowers facing in the same direction but there’s one stray facing the other way.
“That’s me,” he told me.

Yes, it is.

Bless the souls that think differently. They make a dent in the world. They make magic.

The final idea I wanted to share came from an essay I saw in the New York Times. The writer, Lydia Polgreen, just lost her dad at 73. She talks about our need as humans to have an anchor, to know what’s next. But life is uncertain and that makes us vulnerable. We live in rough seas.

Turn on the news and you’ll hear about heinous crimes, the threat of nuclear war, the ravages of a hurricane, the doomsday scenarios surrounding climate change. We have high inflation, divisive politics, institutions we no longer trust and different sets of “facts” depending on where we sit on the political spectrum.

“But to tolerate uncertainty,” Ms. Polgreen writes. “Is to become buoyant, able to bob in the waves, no matter the tide.”

Polgreen continues: “You have to be incredibly vulnerable to admit that you think the world can be better, to believe that what you do could actually make some kind of change. We live in a time dominated by pessimism and cynicism. These poses are a kind of armor against the vulnerability of hope. To be cynical is to close the door to the possibility of disappointment. To be pessimistic is to foreclose the risk of being made a fool by optimism.”

The vulnerability of hope….

Think about that phrase for a moment. I can’t stop thinking about those words.

I believe most of us are naturally attracted to the dreamers and the optimists in our world. I know I am.

My favorite words are love and aspiration.

In a world where we don’t have to travel too far to see, feel and witness the destructive power of hate we must somehow find, teach, and spread love.

And in a world where every idea seems to be met with resistance, cynicism, and snark we must find a way to aspire.

Aspire or expire…that’s what I say.

 

17 October, 2022 22 22 Comments

True Love Stories Never Have Endings

October 17, 2022 By 22 Comments

The American Parkinson Disease Association is holding its annual Optimism Run & Walk Oct. 30 at South County Regional Park in West Boca.

There are certain phone calls you’ll never forget.Phone calls that change your life.Three years ago, I got such a call from my wife Diane.

But first some context.

Diane’s sister Joan had recently passed after a brave and brutal battle with a rare cancer.

Diane and her siblings went to Santa Cruz to spend those last sad days with a sister who had been larger than life. Joan was one of a kind—tough, independent, kind, spirited, smart.Losing her was like losing a limb, she was fundamental to our family dynamics even from her home across the country.When Diane came back she was understandably sad, notably tired and hurting. We all were.Cancer is a frustrating beast. You rally and then you get hit again.

While the impact  is hardest on the patient, the disease hits everyone and it’s path is broad.Still, I sensed something more might have been amiss when Diane returned home. She seemed to be moving a little slower than usual: her gait was off by a hair. But I noticed.Over the ensuing weeks which included holidays, I asked our kids and family to let me know if they thought something was “off” with Diane.Some thought so, others didn’t notice. Like I said, it was subtle.

But I knew something was not quite right, and I asked that she get checked out. She was suffering from pain in a shoulder and weakness on one side, but despite treatment the symptoms persisted.So she went for another opinion. This time, to a neurologist.The diagnosis: Parkinson’s. Just the word takes the air out of you. She could barely get the word out over the phone when she told me.It’s a heavy diagnosis and we were shocked.

Parkinson’s is a progressive disease.

There’s no cure—but there’s hope and Herculean efforts are being made to treat the disease and ultimately find an answer.Until then you do what you can to cope and fight back.You also load up on hope, love, information and support.And here’s where awe takes over.I’m in awe of my wife.

Just when you think you know someone, just when you think you can’t love or respect them more, you find that she possesses whole other reserves of strength, resilience and beauty.It took a few weeks for her “fight” to kick in. A few weeks of emotion and deep depression. I was worried. She didn’t seem up for this challenge. And she said so in worrying terms.But she was processing the news and the impact it would have on our lives.

In an attempt to sort through the noise and anxiety we were experiencing, we reached out to friends who connected us with people they knew who had Parkinson’s. We soaked up as much information as we could find, and came through this process with a strong desire to lean in to our new reality and live with gusto.

The people Diane spoke with were inspirational. Through a friend we connected with a retired airline pilot who was positive and upbeat and living an amazing life. He called Parkinson’s an “inconvenience.”  Diane was taken by his confidence and sense of self. We also spoke to a friend’s aunt who was traveling far and wide—living fully and in the moment. She was encouraging and urged Diane to strive for a full and adventurous life.

These calls helped enormously. I saw a change in Diane. She was processing the news rapidly. Her inner strength, which I have seen before, would be there once more.

But while we were grasping the meaning of this diagnosis, we were also beginning to shift as a family. For us, “someday” had come. Instead of deferring to the future, we would begin to do the things most important to us now.

The takeaway from everyone we spoke too about Parkinson’s was you have to keep moving. The best defense against Parkinson’s was exercise: boxing, spin classes, walking, exercise videos, “Rock Steady” classes anything that keeps you moving and works to keep your balance and strength.In typical fashion, Diane hit it hard. She works out every day—sometimes more than once. She’s in amazing shape.

She also found a wonderful doctor at FAU’s Research Park and has surrounded herself with a community that cheers each other on.To say we’re proud would be an understatement. Those who know and love Diane are in awe.She’s inspiring.

As her husband, I have long been fascinated by the different layers of Diane’s personality. Because she’s shy and reserved, only those closest to her see the depth of her character. But to me, that made uncovering her layers all the more special. She was sharing her professional gifts with the community during her very public career, but I got to see the rest and there was so much more to explore and discover.

To see her resolve kick in, to see her try and find the “gifts” in her diagnosis, gave all of us who adore Diane comfort and hope. This was important, because if you allow yourself you can easily fall down a rabbit hole of despair.

When Diane got the news I had just spoken at the funeral of a beloved Delray icon who suffered for years with Parkinson’s. I saw how this disease can level a strong person. I also thought about Michael J. Fox and Muhammad Ali, two people with all the resources in the world but still…

But we also learned that we don’t know our exact path. We are going to try and write our own story. We are going to have faith, do what we can and not allow this or anything else to define us.

I drew on those lessons a few months later when I got Covid and thought that I might die.

I was also told that if I lived, I may need supplemental oxygen for the rest of my life. But my doctor, Paige Morris, said “Jeff, let’s write our own story. Let’s try.”And we did.

I can feel the limits of my scarred lungs but I don’t need oxygen. And while I cannot keep up with Diane, who is in great shape, I do try and hang with her when we put on an exercise video.When we went to Maine this summer (because tomorrow is here) we took long walks every morning and I marveled at her stamina.She is doing well. And I love her even more if that’s even possible because she meets life’s challenges with a work ethic and an attitude that inspires all those who know her.

None of us knows what the future holds. Our lives can be changed with a phone call. Ours surely has been.But we move forward. We live. We are thankful and hopeful.

Always hopeful that we can write our own story….

In two weeks, there’s a walk and 5K run for Parkinson’s in West Boca.The event raises money for Parkinson’s research.Here’s a link. https://apdaparkinson.donordrive.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=donorDrive.event&eventID=998

At last year’s event, Diane and I walked alongside brave families on the same path. The event was emotional for both of us. We saw a lot of brave people. But we didn’t see any broken people. Looking around the park that morning I felt the spirit of a community. I also saw Diane’s doctor, Henry Moore. There he was, early on a Saturday morning greeting his patients with a big smile and a whole lot of warmth. I knew he was the right man for the job. I knew Diane was in good hands.  It was overwhelming and emotional.

Life changing news will do that to you. That’s why it’s life changing news.

But a year later we are strong, happy, healthy, hopeful and grateful for each other, for those who struggle and for those on the front lines seeking answers. Someday we will get there. Until that time, we laugh. We love. We live; a precious day at a time.

“One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love.” – Sophocles

22 December, 2021 0 Comments

In Search of Hope & Joy

December 22, 2021 By Leave a Comment

“Stay gentle, keep the eyes of a child

Don’t harden your heart or your hands

Know to find joy in the darkness is wise

Although they will think you don’t understand

Don’t let the world make you callous

Be ready to laugh

No one’s forgotten about us

There is light on your path

—“Stay Gentle” lyrics by Brandi Carlile

 

This will be my last post for 2021.

I want to wish you all a happy, safe, and joyous Christmas and New Year and I want to thank you for reading. I’m grateful for your time and attention every Monday (and sometimes Wednesdays).

This column is a labor of love and something that I look forward to every week.

I cherish your feedback and take it all to heart.

As we wrap up 2021, I find myself thinking about the twin concepts of hope and joy.

Those words were planted in my brain by none other than Stevie Van Zandt, guitarist for the E Street Band, and the guy who played Silvio on The Sopranos.

I just finished Mr. Zan Vandt’s awesome autobiography “Unrequited Infatuations” which has become a surprise best seller. The book is terrific, and I love the title because it summarizes the experiences of most guys I know. Sigh.

Littler Steven is a member of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, consigliere to Bruce Springsteen and a political activist who played a prominent role in the dismantling of apartheid in South Africa. He’s also quietly been at the forefront of everything from satellite radio and Netflix’s international expansion to the resurgence of arts education through his “Teach Rocks” foundation and curriculum.

He seems like a cool guy and is certainly a larger-than-life figure hanging out with the likes of Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, James Gandolfini and Little Richard. Now that’s a dinner party!

A minor but recurring theme of the book is the notion that we, as a society and as a nation, have lost our sense of hope and joy.
Stevie feels that those words were a common thread behind the spirit of the 1960s, but somewhere along the way we lost our mojo.

There’s no joy in Mudville as they say. Little hope that the world we inhabit will get better.

The 60s were a turbulent era—war, assassinations, street protests, struggles for civil and equal rights. But despite the chaos, Mr. Van Zandt says there was joy and hope in our music, in our culture and even in our politics. There was a sense that we were working toward a more perfect union.

I’ve been thinking about these heavy topics amidst the turbulence and division of 2021.

We’ve lost 800,000 plus Americans to Covid; but instead of this threat binding us together; the virus has driven us apart—physically, spiritually and politically.

We hold elections and a great many no longer trust the results.

Faith in our institutions—government, courts, media, schools, universities, the financial system and businesses are suffering according to public opinion surveys. Attendance at religious services— in person and on-line— is dropping.

It’s a scary time of public health crises, inflation, climate change and spasms of gun violence.

We fear and loathe those who do not think like us.

Right here at home, we end the year with arguably our greatest civic icon, Frances Bourque, embroiled in a lawsuit pitting Old School Square against the City of Delray Beach. Think about that for a moment. It’s just a big, loud (and sad) wow.

Which begs the question; is there still room for joy? Is there space for hope to take root in such a climate?

I believe there is.

I have no evidence to support my feelings. No magic formula that says things will get better other than faith.

I still have faith.

It may be misplaced, it may be delusional, but I still harbor a belief that before we sink further our better angels will wake up and save the day.

As Mets fans used to say: “Ya Gotta Believe”.

Reknitting our torn social fabric is the leadership challenge of a lifetime. The stakes could not be higher. I believe the survival of American Democracy is at stake and because we remain a beacon for the world, if we fail, there will be grave global implications. The world needs America. And we need her too.

So, what should we do?
Well, we need to re-establish the existence of objective facts. That won’t be easy but if half of our population says today is Monday and the other says Tuesday, where does that get us?

If half the nation wants to try and address climate change but the other half doesn’t– what happens to our world if the overwhelming majority of scientists are correct and we are indeed experiencing an existential crisis affecting every corner of our globe?

If we hold elections and half the country doesn’t trust their basic integrity how do we function as a Democracy?

And if we lose faith in our courts and large swaths of our nation decides to ignore rulings where does that leave the rule of law, the basic building block of a civilized society?

I don’t know the answers or even where to begin, yet I remain full of hope that we can somehow find a way forward.

It seems to be that most people I interact with—on both sides of the aisle—are pretty miserable these days, especially at the state of our politics—on all levels federal, state and local.

There’s no joy and where’s there no joy hope wanes.

As someone who believes in the power of community, I believe the answers start right here at home.

We can resolve to be kinder to each other. We can resolve to talk more and shout less. We can resolve to listen to those who are disaffected.

We can make it a point to confront bullies and not cede them the public square.

We can resolve to respect each other, to listen and to be stewards instead of bulldozers.

We can summon the courage to stand up and be counted— in a respectful way of course. We can stop pretending that we can’t be found when our friends ask us to stand up for what’s right.

We can show up and speak truth to power even if that truth may hurt our interests in the short term. It’s called doing the right thing.

We can react or we can respond.

From Seth Godin: “When we react to a medicine, that’s a bad thing. When we respond, it’s working.”

We can throw a tantrum or we can respond—with something that works. With an approach we’re proud of, proud of even after the moment has passed. It’s not easy, it’s often not fun, but it’s the professional’s choice.

It’s also the citizen’s choice. We need to become citizens again.

We can save our communities. We have the power to do so.

It starts with kindness and empathy and ends with joy and hope.

Joy keeps us going. So does hope. Right now, we have to keep moving forward even when we feel tired and want to chuck it all. Especially when we are tired. We must never ever give up.

Wishing you a wonderful holiday season and a safe New Year.

I’ll leave with part of a  poem called “One Today”  that I recently discovered. It’s by Richard Blanco.

“We head home: through the gloss of rain or weight

of snow, or the plum blush of dusk, but always—home,

always under one sky, our sky. And always one moon

like a silent drum tapping on every rooftop

and every window, of one country—all of us—

facing the stars

hope—a new constellation

waiting for us to map it,

waiting for us to name it—together.”

 

 

 

8 April, 2020 2 2 Comments

Finding Inspiration In Crisis

April 8, 2020 By 2 Comments

Jonas Salk

 

PBS has been running a great documentary called “The Polio Crusade.”

If you are looking for hope and inspiration in these dark days of Covid-19, I highly recommend you watch this remarkable program which is part of the American Experience series.
It traces the amazing story of Jonas Salk and his successful quest to develop a polio vaccine.
Salk was an interesting man.
Described as “super ambitious” by his fellow scientists, he was a man who thought big and who had great faith in his ideas.
Of course, like many of the great ones, he had his share of detractors one of whom described him as a garage chemist. But the critics did not dissuade Salk. He was determined to stamp out polio quickly and sure enough he did.
The coronavirus has some eerie parallels with the polio epidemic. Images of people in iron lungs is reminiscent of the images we are seeing of people on respirators and ventilators.
The fear we are experiencing is also reminiscent of the polio era.
Surveys at the time said Americans feared polio almost as much as they feared nuclear war.
They craved  a vaccine and officials at the time were willing to take risks to conquer the disease. They were willing to have their children take a vaccine that nobody was sure would work. Well maybe nobody but Salk.
This was 1954, a different moment in American history, a time when people trusted their government and trusted science.
They were willing to try.
In 1955, when the results of the field trials were released the entire world waited with baited breath.
Factory whistles blew, children cheered and parents wept when  it was learned that the Salk vaccine worked.
Twenty years of efforts. Twenty years of giving dimes to fund research paid off.
It’s an uplifting story.
Today, we need history to repeat itself.
And I’m confident that somewhere, a brilliant scientist or team of scientists, will come up with an effective cure and treatment for the scourge we are experiencing today.
  More than 140 experimental drug treatments and vaccines for the coronavirus are in development worldwide, most in early stages, including 11 already in clinical trials. Counting drugs approved for other diseases, there are 250 clinical trials testing treatments for vaccines for the virus. Hundreds more are planned.
Until then, we wait. We pray. We hope and we support those on the front lines of the coronavirus.
While the coming weeks are predicted to be grim, watching the “Polio Crusade” gives one hope and faith in human ingenuity. There’s an answer out there and it will be found.
18 December, 2019 2 2 Comments

‘Tis The Season For Politics

December 18, 2019 By 2 Comments

Editor’s Note: We will be taking a few days off for the holidays but will be back with a year end blog on Dec. 30. Have a safe season and thanks for reading!

While most of us are immersed in the hustle of the holidays, others are busy gearing up for the local election season.

They are holding kick-off parties, gathering signatures to qualify for the ballot, raising money and plotting strategy—which typically means carpet bombing those who run against them.

Two commission seats are up for grabs in Delray Beach in March and after a year’s respite we can expect the fur to fly in the New Year.

Sigh.

Heavy sigh.

Call me jaded because I am.

But I don’t expect we will see the local version of the Lincoln-Douglas debates play out over the next few months. And that’s too bad because there is a lot to discuss.

I do expect that we will see a lot of nastiness, division and empty platitudes. When the dust settles we will probably see in excess of $300,000 spent on mail pieces, Facebook ads, signs and robocalls.

Most of it will be ignored.

Some of us will vote—probably more than a typical year (thanks to the presidential primary)—and life will go on.

We will hear lots about traffic, over-development, corruption and how the village by the sea has either been ruined or is about to be—unless of course you vote for so and so.

Sigh.

Candidates will promise to “fight” for us, they will accuse their opponents of being in the pockets of “greedy” developers (developers are always greedy and always corrupting) and they will talk about how they will tame traffic, cut taxes and stand up to “special interests” on behalf of the resident/taxpayer.

Even the candidates who raise money from developers will run anti-development campaigns. They think it’s their path to victory. I’ve always found it interesting and ironic that developers actually fund campaigns that rail against their industry and that calls them damaging and corrupt influences.

Can you imagine doctors funding mail pieces that say they will harm you?

The “principled” (“I can’t be bought!”) candidates will shun developer money and run a grassroots campaign. Some will actually do just that by knocking on doors and golf carting around town meeting voters. Others will ‘talk the talk’ but secretly accept developer money and squirrel it away in some political action committee or third party entity with a Tallahassee address and often no disclosure of donors.

Surrogates will battle it out on social media, essentially talking to each other in echo chambers too often devoid of facts, civility, context or reality. And I’ll say to myself: “self, that’s not what living in a village or a community is supposed to be about.”

We are not alone in our struggles.

America seems hopelessly divided as we head toward 2020—as if we are Democrats or Republicans, progressives or conservatives before we are Americans.

We are not.

Or at least we shouldn’t be.

There was a time—now long ago I’m afraid—where our hometown was a port in the storm. We were a community that worked together, identified problems and then got about the business of solving them. Imagine that radical concept.

 

Not every issue was resolved—maybe none were. And maybe that’s the point.

Maybe building a community is something you constantly have to chisel away at. We are never quite done are we? And isn’t that the fun and purpose of it all—to grow (responsibly), to evolve and to learn— hopefully together.

It sure feels like we have taken a wrong turn.

We’ve become more distant, nastier, more divided, less like neighbors and more like combatants.

It’s reflected in the tone of our politics. And there are consequences. Grave, expensive and lasting consequences.

I’ve seen friends who have proudly worked for the City of Delray Beach thrown out with the trash this year. I’ve seen others who left their jobs earlier than they planned for brighter pastures literally shaking their heads about current conditions.

We can deny it. Or we can own it.

But when you experience the level of turnover we’ve seen, I can assure you it’s not because things are great.

Public employees are not all about the money otherwise they wouldn’t be public employees. Nobody goes to work in local government to get rich and those that do will probably be arrested. Instead, they seek to serve and to be part of something bigger than themselves. Sure, there are clunkers out there but there are so many more talented, smart and dedicated public servants who work or have worked for Delray.

I sure hope this new manager we’ve hired is up to the task because he has a big one ahead of him.

For the record, I’m not blameless.

I’ve written checks that turned into mail that I wouldn’t line my bird’s cage with. But I don’t blame the political consultants, their job is to win. They have diagnosed that if you want to win in Delray Beach you need to go negative.

So the question is did the politics change us or did we change?

Do our politics reflect what we have become?

Again, I’m not blameless.

I’m a critic.

I am jaded.

If you ask me a question I will answer it and if the answer is I think things stink then I’m going to say it or write it and hit publish. And I guess that bothers some people.

I don’t mess with local politics on social media, it’s a waste of time.

But I am happy to engage one on one if asked. I am anxious to listen and learn. I am not willing to spend a lot of time with people who are so entrenched in their views that they are not willing to listen and learn.

My goal on this blog and on the editorial pages of the newspapers we own is to shine a light on the good, the bad and the ugly in our community and we have all three conditions—every place does.

We/I love to write about the people who do good in the neighborhood but we won’t gloss over the bad actors and outcomes either. We love to cheer lead when appropriate, but we also feel we have an obligation to speak up when we see things that don’t sit right.

I’ve been bothered by the turnover at City Hall and the lack of civic engagement and vision in our community for years and I will continue to speak out about it.

As for development, I believe in smart growth and that we ought to do our best to keep the charm and not build ugly buildings all over town.

I don’t believe in sprawl—it creates traffic and is bad for the environment. I think density is necessary to create affordability and is also better for the environment.

I think downtown housing helps our local mom and pops survive and makes for a vibrant and safe atmosphere. I think design and uses are more important than a random density per acre number. I can show you ugly low density buildings and attractive high density projects. We spent a lot of time in the community process that led to our Downtown Master Plan explaining that density was desirable if projects were designed well.

I’m proud of my city. And I criticize it because I love it and I want to see it thrive and succeed.

I don’t see that happening if we lack vision, if city hall is a revolving door of staff and if those who remain are afraid to talk or are prevented from making recommendations.

I don’t think the commission should have taken over the CRA.

I think some developers absolutely stink—especially those who divide the community with controversial projects and then never build or those who seek variances and waivers that make no sense.

I also think we have had some really good developers in town. Entrepreneurs who have taken big risks and built very nice projects that have enhanced our city and created jobs, opportunities and activities that have made Delray—well— Delray.

Some developers have acted like strip miners extracting money from our city and not giving anything back.

Others have become among our most dedicated and generous citizens serving on non-profit boards, city advisory boards and donating to good causes. To label them all as greedy and corrupting is foolish and just plain wrong and guess what? It doesn’t change anything.

It doesn’t advance the narrative, bring us any further understanding or solve any of the issues and concerns people have about development.

But it’s not just the developers and city staff who take it on the chin in this town, it’s the elected officials and candidates who also have to deal with the vitriol.

I have respect for almost anyone willing to enter the arena. I make exceptions for the bullies, narcissists, and puppets—they can pound sand. I also don’t really like it when people want to start out as commissioners without having paid their civic dues. I think it’s important to know the city you seek to lead and for us to know you. If you haven’t volunteered there’s no way that’s possible.

But for those who wish to serve, it isn’t easy. I speak from experience.

You become a target and so does your family, your friends and often your business.

No wonder why it is so hard to find qualified candidates—those that have a deep knowledge of the city they hope to lead, a track record of involvement and accomplishment and a demonstrated ability to work well with others.

Maybe if we had a less toxic atmosphere we’d find ourselves with a plethora of talented people—they are here living in the village but unwilling to deal with the crap you have to deal with and really who can blame them except…..except we need them to engage and to serve.

So as we enter election season, I plan to look for candidates who can articulate a vision for our city, who recognize the importance and role of city staff (let them make recommendations for Pete’s sake, otherwise why have a professional staff?) and who exhibit some emotional intelligence that is required to be a successful leader at any level. Empathy is not optional folks.

I hope we find them. If we do, we ought to support and protect them. Sadly, they are going to need it.

 

 

 

 

16 September, 2019 2 2 Comments

Blinded By The Light

September 16, 2019 By 2 Comments

Blinded By The Light is based on a true story.

If you haven’t seen the movie “Blinded By The Light” do yourself and your mood a favor and see it on the big screen.

Make sure the theater has a good sound system because the music is sublime and the story makes you want to conquer the world.

We caught the movie recently at iPic and it exceeded my already high expectations.

For me, the movie ticked a lot of boxes:

I love a good coming of age story.

I love stories about fathers and sons.

I love movies that take place in the 1980s—because I remember the 80s. (It’s a little fuzzy but MTV actually played music videos and there was a lot of big hair).

Oh and it features the story of a teenage boy who tackles life’s challenges inspired by the music of Bruce Springsteen.

I like Bruce. A lot.

So while I expected to enjoy a light hearted story powered by Springsteen’s music I discovered that the movie had so many other layers.

It’s not a “Mamma Mia” type movie (as good as that was) it’s more socially conscious and raises issues that we are dealing with today namely race, class, inequality and our unique human ability to hate others simply because they look or worship differently than we do.

Of course, the film’s worldview is balanced by the strength of friendship, love, family, romance and some amazing lyrics from a poet who emerged from Asbury Park, New Jersey and was able to touch people all over the world with a message of hope despite how hard life can be.

“Blow away the dreams that tear you apart

Blow away the dreams that break your heart

Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but lost and brokenhearted.”

Bruce Springsteen, The Promised Land.

It’s a message I think we all need to hear. Because this world can be harsh—political division, mass shootings, opioid abuse, racism, misogyny, environmental degradation, homelessness, hacking and hostility. It’s a lot to digest.

And to quote Bruce, it can leave you lost and broken-hearted.

We’re not immune here in affluent Boca and #alwaysavillage Delray.

Nope.

There’s crime, drug abuse, violence, tension and division.

I’ve long contended that Delray is America in 16 square miles. The diversity is what makes our city a fascinating place.

We are a city of contrasts—great wealth and deep poverty. We are diverse and yet deeply segregated.

People in our community struggle mightily. Some struggle to stay, others struggle to get out and still others long to be here.

In the movie, our hero Javid, is a Pakistani teenager regularly bullied by his English neighbors.

The National Front marches in his town of Luton and attacks his family. His Pakistani neighbors suffer from degrading and demoralizing vandalism.

The local auto plant lays off half of its workforce and jobs are scarce.

America is also wrestling with some of these issues as hate, job insecurity and violence are unfortunately a part of our daily lives and discourse.

But often answers –or at least some respite —can be found in art, in this case music.

Great lyrics can inspire and motivate. Words matter. They can be used to harm people by telling them to “go back home” or they can heal by offering a way out or a way forward.

As Bruce says…

“The highway’s jammed with broken heroes

On a last chance power drive

Everybody’s out on the run tonight

But there’s no place left to hide

Together, Wendy, we can live with the sadness

I’ll love you with all the madness in my soul

Oh, someday, girl, I don’t know when

We’re gonna get to that place

Where we really wanna go and we’ll walk in the sun

But ’til then, tramps like us

Baby, we were born to run.”

Check out Blinded By the Light it’s the feel good movie of the summer.

23 April, 2018 0 Comments

Land Of Hope And Dreams

April 23, 2018 By Leave a Comment

Bruce Springsteen and his wife Patti Scialfa after a show at the Walter Kerr Theatre on Broadway.

I can’t let my Springsteen on Broadway experience pass without sharing some takeaways with you.
First, the show is remarkable.
The power. The passion. The sharing. The stories. The humor. The descriptions of life and landscapes are masterful.
And the music…well the music is sublime.

With the exception of two songs performed with his wife Patti Scialfa, the show is all Bruce. Just a piano and an acoustic guitar.
Bruce’s songwriting prowess often overshadows  his guitar playing but on the night we saw him we marveled at how his acoustic filled the Walter Kerr Theatre.

It’s a rich sound. Powerful. And it allowed him to change arrangements on songs giving them new texture and meaning.

The stories and themes that accompanied the music were a big part of the night. Bruce covered a lot of ground as he told his life story weaving in themes ranging from love and trust to parenthood and aging.
As he ages..as we all age…there’s a poignancy that comes with a Springsteen performance.
We know it won’t last forever.

We know we won’t last forever.

And so we appreciate the moments more, we savor the experiences, the feelings, the closeness and the love we have for not only the music (which is truly magnificent) but for the community this man and the E Street Band have created since 1973.

Last week, I wrote that Springsteen was about hope. And he is. But he’s also about community.
He’s worked hard to create it. He’s worked hard to scale it and he’s worked hard to deepen it and keep it going. There’s lessons to be learned from how he’s built and sustained a large tribe. There’s also lessons in why it’s meaningful to belong to…something.

Bruce closed the show with a story about returning to his hometown of Freehold, N.J. recently only to find a beloved childhood tree had been removed.
He was angry and saddened by the loss. But he also noticed that the roots system was still in place.

While the physical tree was gone, he felt the energy of the tree was very much intact.

He concluded with a prayer and a wish that the community he had built, the music he had created, would hopefully live on. Much like the roots system of the tree.
As I reflect on the show, I realized that I just loved this message.

In many ways we all try to build communities, families, businesses, works of art, relationships and more. It’s imperfect, it’s lifelong and sometimes we succeed and sometimes we fail. But we hope it adds up to something. We hope it means something. I’m sure it does.

We also hope it lasts, even if we know that we won’t.

Bruce talked about the magic of his legendary E Street. How when you experience magic–one plus one somehow equals three. How true.

And so I thought back on my life and my friends. How when it clicks you can move mountains, make lasting memories with good friends, create a family, start entrepreneurial ventures, grow organizations and touch lives.
That’s what it’s all about: striving for magic, working hard to make it happen, taking risks and enjoying the journey knowing that there’s pain, loss and setbacks but love, joy and passion too.

In the song “Land of Hope and Dreams”  Bruce sings of a mythical train where there is room for everyone. You don’t need a ticket, you just climb aboard. The destination is a land of hope and dreams, a place where we all find love, acceptance and freedom.
Amen.