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The New England Patriots decided to practice somewhere other than their home field in Boston, Massachusetts, by going back to college. The Patriots practiced for a week at Palm Beach Atlantic University to adapt to the humidity and heat before their game on Sept. 11 against the Miami Dolphins. TJ Budd, PBA's associate athletic director for administration, said that the Patriots chose PBA to get familiar with Florida’s infamous hot weather conditions. During their Sept. 7 practice, WPTV First Alert Weather meteorologists said the weather was 90 degrees. The highest was 96 degrees. “The Patriots staff thought the athletic campus was more than suitable for them to practice and get the work that they needed to do before week one of the NFL season,” Budd said. Bill Belichick, the Patriots' coach, said he chose PBA because of the school’s availability and location. A similar situation happened in 2016 when the Patriots practiced at Florida Atlantic University to adapt to the weather as well. Since PBA does not have a football team, there was more flexibility and creativity for the Patriots because there were no conflicting schedules. Budd stated, however, that PBA’s lacrosse and soccer teams had some minor changes to their practice schedules since the Patriots used the soccer and lacrosse fields at PBA’s Rinker Athletic Campus. Students were not allowed to talk to the players or use the facilities at the same time as the Patriots. There was higher security at the fields during the Patriots’ practice times. Students were not allowed to access the facility along with athletes unless they had practice or were using the weightroom. “They were still able to practice and still get the work that they needed to get done in that time frame,” Budd said. Ben Lightsy, a student athlete on the men's lacrosse team, explained that he hopes the national publicity will bring more professional teams to PBA. Because news media outlets like ESPN reported on the Patriots practicing at the RAC, PBA received more publicity. Not only does this bring press to the university, but it also brings more opportunities for other professional teams to use the facility. Lightsy discovered that the Patriots were practicing at the RAC by a team manager who said he wanted to keep the field in good condition for the Patriots. “It brought national presence to our campus, which is something that we do not typically get, so the opportunity that we had to have live hits from the NFL network right here in the Rinker sports center are things that are very unique and opportunistic for us,” Budd said. PBA has not stated if there will be more professional teams using the RAC in the future. In their game against the Dolphins, the Patriots lost 7-20. They will play them again on Jan. 1, 2023. By Kileigh Gagnon and Daniella Parra

Palm Beach Atlantic University's men’s soccer captain Andrés Flores previewed their 2022 fall season. The Chilean midfielder, who played for the PBA Sailfish for the past five years, talked about the team’s expectations toward a new tournament. “Every year the conference is quite competitive,” Flores stated. “The most important thing is to help new people adapt well because I think that, in the end, that's what makes the difference in order to have a good performance during the season.” Flores wanted all the transfers and freshmen players to understand the way they play and how they do things. “I think the process has gone pretty well, so I'm feeling positive towards the conference tournament.” Flores said. The school program won the Sunshine State Conference last year, claimed as co-champions with the University of Tampa. PBA held a 13-1 overall record and a 9-1 within the conference. The SSC is arguably the toughest NCAA Division 2 conference in the nation for soccer, since the highest ranked colleges are usually fighting for the national title. Along with the new players that arrived this year and those who left, the biggest change that the team experienced was the arrival of a new head coach. After eight successful years of coaching PBA’s men’s soccer team, Brian McMahon stepped down in June. During that period, McMahon became the first coach in 24 years to win the SSC “Coach of the Year” award in 2017 and 2018, giving the program six consecutive NCAA national tournament appearances, plus one NCAA south region championship. “I'm really grateful to him,” Flores said about McMahon. “Personally, he made me evolve as a person and as a player. He also brought this high-achieving culture to the school. Definitely the good results that we've had, along with that mentality of going for the conference and aiming for the nationals, came through him.” Lucas Martorana assumed McMahon’s place as the interim head coach. In 2017, Martorana was chosen as PBA’s assistant coach, and three years later he became the associate head coach. Matthew Iles assumed Martorana's old position as the assistant coach this past August. “The change of coach came with bad timing perhaps, but the truth is that the team responded very well,” Flores mentioned. "Lucas (Martorana) is someone who knows the program, he knows how we have done things, but he also adds his personal touches, which in the end is always good to add things and find ways to improve.” Regarding the soccer team's objectives this fall season, the Sailfish captain says his intention is to pursue that long-awaited national title. “That's the goal that is always top of mind throughout the season, but obviously having a long-term goal can backfire a bit sometimes,” Flores added. “If you focus on something that is so far down the road, it suddenly makes you stop giving importance to the present. Our most important goal is always the next game.” With this in mind, the PBA men’s soccer team is looking forward to another successful season with Flores as team captain. By Osvaldo Godoy

Whenever weary travelers find themselves stumbling through West Palm Beach’s thriving labyrinth of tourist attractions, one little shop tends to stand out from all the rest: Loic Bakery Cafe and Bar. Standing adjacent to South Dixie Highway’s scenic walking route—comprised of colorful apartment complexes and a diverse collection of coffee shops—potential customers are instantly beckoned forth by the bakery’s most popular attributes: The intoxicating aroma of fresh-baked pistachio croissants, the small wooden tables encompassing its lush outdoor courtyard and the amicable smile of the French baker the idyllic storefront was named after, in May of 2018. At first glance, no one would ever suspect that anything out of the ordinary had ever taken place within the local pâtisserie. No one would ever suspect that the storefront’s beloved baker was a former red beret, paratrooper and military occupant of a French minesweeper. Ultimately, no one would ever suspect that—approximately two years ago—Loic Autret, 50, had turned his France-inspired bakery into a compound complete with the weaponry of his choice: a set of blazing ovens, the ingredients necessary for baking and his own two, experienced hands. Throughout the last 20 years, Autret has become no stranger to adapting to the unexpected. In addition to having a 10-year military career under his belt, he wed an American he had met in France and followed her overseas in August of 2000. Fluent only in the language of his home country, the French immigrant knew he had to find something he could do with his hands if he wanted to secure a sustainable livelihood in America. Familiar with the art of the croissant, Autret spent years gaining the education and experience necessary for opening the bakery that bears his name today. He learned how to expect the unexpected. Thus, when the infamous pandemic launched its first frontal assault against humanity in mid-March of 2020, the soldier-turned-baker knew exactly what he had to do to ensure that his livelihood—and those of other hospitality workers—survived: keep baking bread. “I saw people who didn’t have food … because people lose their paycheck they got nothing right away. So I said, ‘You know what? For the first time in my life, I will do something for real to help people,’” Autret said. “I did that in the army, but as a civilian, I said … ‘Let's make extra bread. Let's give it away to the people.’” As admirable as the French baker’s philanthropic pursuit was, it wasn’t something that he could achieve on his own. Issued by Gov. Ron DeSantis on March 17, 2020, Executive Order No. 20-68 limited restaurant occupancy by 50% and mandated social-distancing regulations. As a result, Autret’s generosity was ultimately hindered by his inability to get physically close to the people he sought to serve. He soon realized that his potential act of service would remain potential if he failed to find a safe way to deliver his bread. He needed allies to move his plan forward. He needed people willing to deliver his extra bread. Peter Cruise, an elected commissioner for the Palm Beach County Commission on Ethics, did more than just step into the role Autret so desperately needed; he became the baker’s very own “bread delivery guy.” “During that time, Loic saw that I was on social media. … Then he called me and said, ‘I have all these baguettes that I need to give them somewhere every day and I'd like to help,’” Cruise said. “So, long story short, I asked Rodney, ‘Hey, can you use French bread?’” Rodney Mayo, owner of Subculture Restaurant Group—an enterprise consisting of approximately 17 local establishments—was yet another businessman who knew he couldn’t just hide in the trenches of his home while the COVID-19 mercilessly targeted hospitality workers. Given that the pandemic had put 650 of his own valued employees out of work, he knew the issue at hand was far greater than anyone could have possibly anticipated: Ex-servers trying to make their remaining tips last; former hospitality workers anxiously waiting for their unemployment applications to be approved; and proprietors who hadn’t yet closed their doors doing everything they could to keep their small businesses alive. It was a crisis that could not be ignored and called for local, immediate and voluntary action. “All of our staff was at a loss as to what they were going to do and where they were going to get food and pay rent … and we weren't able to give them any answers,” Mayo said. “But one thing I said we could do is to make sure that everybody got fed.” From that moment on, Mayo was no longer just a well-known businessman; he became a human catalyst for one of the city’s most significant COVID-19 counterattacks: Hospitality Helping Hands, otherwise known as H3. A program that Cruise has since dubbed the “hospitality people helping hospitality people” movement, H3 was created to bring relief to unemployed hospitality workers and their families. Taking the city’s social distancing regulations into close consideration, Mayo and his volunteers carried out their plan: A select few would come to one of Mayo’s participating establishments—fully masked and gloved—to set up tables and supplies. At the same time, small groups of people—Cruise being a regular volunteer—would drive to local businesses to pick up the food they couldn’t sell and bring it back to home base. From that point on, hot meals would be packed up and handed off to the hospitality workers waiting in their vehicles. These drives would go from noon to 6 p.m. every day. Aware of their recipients’ need for food that would last longer than one night, H3 volunteers soon incorporated grocery pickups into their public service strategy. Like the industries their targeted demographic came from, the food and services provided by H3 and its volunteers were in high demand. The 3,000 people assisted in the early days of this program grew exponentially and required food/grocery drives to be opened at Mayo’s other establishments. It was at this moment that Autret’s baguettes were finally able to leave his locked-down compound and make their way into H3's desperately sought-after grocery bags. Unsure of the total amount donated, Autret remembers baking thousands of baguettes and leaving them outside his door for Cruise to pick up and deliver. That was more than two years ago. Now, having just watched the last of his customers trickle from the premises, Autret strides out of his kitchen and—taking a deep, well-deserved breath—gently flips the front door’s “open” sign to “closed.” Shoulders slumped with exhaustion and flour tucked neatly into the creases of his hands, he takes a seat at one of the bakery’s outdoor benches. Running his fingers through his hair—making the bleached ends even lighter—Autret simply rests and remembers. He remembers when his beloved bakery felt like nothing more than a barren set of barracks. He remembers when the world just outside his door came to a sudden standstill. He remembers the presence of the pandemic and, even more so, remembers the fight he and his allies gave it. COVID-19 had dramatically altered the livelihoods of some of his own, inflicting devastation on his business as well as those scattered throughout the city. In doing so, however, the pandemic had also created its own worst enemy: Adversaries who were unwilling to give their enemy an upper-hand by acting as bystanders. “I believe in karma, always believe in karma, you know?” Autret said. “You need to give to receive. It's not about only money. It's about joy; about everything. You give kindness, you will receive kindness or even more.” By Brenna Brown

What do you get when you combine an abandoned West Palm Beach storefront, a determined local resident and the ever-lingering presence of a virus that refuses to leave the city’s premises? The answer: A meaningful moment in time that Janet DeVita, 65, will never truly forget. Standing just outside a neatly packed array of shops on North Dixie Highway, the recently established business owner remembers taking a deep breath and—despite her better judgment—allowing the famously dangerous question of “what if” to occupy her usually tidy thoughts. What if she took a chance on something she’d never done before? What if she catalyzed a dream that had been safely tucked away in her mind for far too long? What if she took the ultimate risk and—approximately one year into the COVID-19 pandemic—opened her own small business? With her closely-cropped hair fluttering in the warm Florida breeze, this particular memory shows DeVita giving one last glance to a deserted storefront she had walked past more times than she could count. Peering through the building’s front-facing window, DeVita realized at that specific moment that the answer to her internal debate was—clear as the glass she was staring through—right in front of her eyes. Her mind made up, she turned and made the several-yard stride over to D is for Dog, a pet store located a few doors away from the empty storefront where Denise Hull—her friend and future business partner—would agree to help bring her idea into existence. “My whole life I always dreamed of doing something like this. … It was always sort of in the back of my mind,” DeVita said, “and I said, ‘It's now or never. I'm going to do it; I don't care that it's a pandemic.’ So, I went for it.” Aware that Hull had only recently established D is for Dog—approximately two months before the COVID-19 pandemic hit—and had managed to keep her doors open, DeVita believed this particular businesswoman would be the perfect partner for her passionate endeavor. Emboldened by the success of D is for Dog and acutely aware that the area in which she resided lacked a local gift shop, Hull agreed to utilize the skills she had taken away from her corporate America experiences and—despite the pandemic looming over every small business in the area—open the boutique with her friend. “(December of 2020) was when the ‘D is for Design’ got into my head,” Hull said, “and I swear to you, it was right here, … I'm like, ‘I have to do this.’” As of May 7, 2021, D is for Design had two proud co-owners and was officially open for business. However, as decisive and proactive as these strong-willed women were, they couldn’t ignore the unwelcome occupant loitering just outside their doors: COVID-19 and the unyielding financial devastation it had brought about everywhere it went. Like many local entrepreneurs and small business owners, both women found themselves adhering to certain safety protocols, including mandatory mask-wearing, limited occupancy and curbside pickup options. While neither woman was forced to close down their businesses or lay off designated employees, they still faced their own series of challenges: Namely, the fact that they were unable to benefit from a number of grants specifically designed for people in their position. Given that both DeVita’s and Hull’s businesses were located within one of Palm Beach County’s 39 municipalities, made less than $5 million annually and were unable to apply for the federal government’s PPP loans, one might think they would qualify for one of the county’s primary forms of COVID-19 relief: the Restart Business Grant. This was not the case. While Hull acknowledged to receiving some aid from the city from the city of West Palm Beach, she did not say how much she was given. Nonetheless, she found that D is for Dog adhered to all but one of the Restart Business Grant's initial eligibility requirements: It hadn’t been operating prior to Oct. 1, 2019. DeVita, on the other hand, wasn’t even aware that this grant—or any other local aid, for that matter—was available for the taking. “I never went through those channels,” DeVita said. “I’d never heard of those opportunities … I never really researched it, I guess.” If the Restart Business Grant was designed to help the county’s small businesses make it through the pandemic, why is it that Hull’s and DeVita’s personal enterprises were ultimately excluded from this resource? Meri Weymer, the Housing Finance supervisor for the city and one of the grant’s co-creators, has since asserted that the grant and its development process was much more difficult than uninvolved individuals might automatically assume. “Nobody predicted COVID-19 and the money that we got was very quick,” Weymer said, “and we had to come up with something very quickly.” By “very quickly,” Weymer alluded to the deadline the federal government had given her team in the beginning stages of the grant’s development process: approximately one month. Allocated an estimated $80 million, the team responsible for initiating the grant was given little more than 30 days to construct the entire application process, which included determining how much each small business could receive and developing the online tools necessary for application submissions. While the development process itself had to be completed by June 30, 2020, the team had until Dec. 31, 2020—just under six months– to distribute all of the federal aid they had received. Given that COVID-19 caused many individuals to work from home for extended periods of time, the team behind the grant determined that it needed to be initiated through the department’s computer information system. To ensure that the money was distributed fairly, they created an online web portal that small business owners could access remotely in order to apply for this aid; the grant’s corresponding formula was then utilized by the web portal to determine exactly how much aid each applicant could receive based on their eligibility. This entire process was heavily backed by the Board of County Commissioners, who needed to give their “blessing” to the grant’s distributors—Weymer and her team—before eligible applicants could actually receive it. Despite the extensive amount of effort the grant’s distributors put into creating it, there were several county residents who were not happy with how it was initially drafted: namely, those who operated out of their homes and/or weren’t forced to close their doors. “We had a lot of businesses say, “Hey, that's not fair. You know, we got hurt too,” Weymer said. “‘Even though we weren’t mandated to close, we still lost.’” Amanda Hughes, a certified public accountant for the county’s Department of Housing and Economic Development and another of the grant’s co-creators, reiterated that their team needed to revise it numerous times over their allotted six-month period, creating what they came to refer to as “phases 1, 2 and 3.” Phase 1 required applicants to provide the web portal with two things to move their application forward: a business tax receipt and a W-3 form. However, after receiving numerous phone calls from potential recipients whose applications were being put on hold, Weymer and Hughes learned that many of the county’s small business owners didn't even know what a business tax receipt was or that it was legally required to do business in the area. A mandatory step in the grant’s application process, the act of securing a business tax receipt involves a consecutive series of steps: To do legal business in any one of the county’s municipalities, a small business owner must contact his or her local clerk’s office, report the type of business they already/will have, pay a registration fee—which must be renewed annually—and obtain proof of the registration via a business tax receipt. The reality that many of their applicants were wholly unaware of this requirement proved to be an additional hurdle the already pressed team had to navigate around. Additionally, the grant’s distributors found that—despite their efforts to assist as many small businesses as their funding would allow—there was one group of applicants who found themselves unable to apply for the grant in its early stages: independent contractors. Used interchangeably with the term “sole proprietor,” independent contractors tend to work solo and, therefore, do not usually possess a business tax receipt; they report all of their business-related income to the IRS on personal tax returns instead. As such, the web portal did not deem this demographic eligible in the grant’s early days of distribution. Given their team’s tight timeframe, Weymer and Hughes sought to mitigate this particular issue as quickly as possible. “We learned and we pivoted as new information came in,” Hughes said. “Commissioners were being called to say, ‘Hey, why wasn't this person eligible?’ And then the different phases came from that.” Even though business owners such as Hull and DeVita were unable to benefit from this particular grant, Weymer and Hughes would ultimately label it a success. This conclusion stems from more than just their personal opinions and experience as some of the grant’s co-creators; it is backed by the reported numbers themselves. For starters, their team’s consistent revisions made the grant available to a demographic much larger and more diverse than phase 1’s initial target: Of the 5,182 approved applicants, approximately 10.5% were food-based providers, 34.5% were professional services, 22.6% were hair/nail salons and 16% identified as brick-and-mortar businesses. Additionally, an estimated 72.23% of the total number of grant recipients are reported to have made less than $250,000 in gross receipts or sales—certifying that the recipients of this grant really were “small” businesses—and not larger enterprises looking to snag aid away from the businesses that needed it more. Some people may agree with Weymer’s and Hughes’s conclusion; others may not. But there is one simple fact neither party can truly deny: When in doubt, double check the numbers. Even if the distributors of this grant chose not to speak for themselves, the numbers they received—after all was said and done—certainly have. By Brenna Brown

It’s approximately 5:30 a.m. on a typical Monday. The sun has just started to rise; its few small rays gently caressing West Palm Beach’s early morning horizon. Some of the city’s residents surge out of their homes in an eager attempt to beat the oncoming rush-hour traffic—while others haven’t even considered leaving the comforts of their beds. But in a tight-knit coffee shop tucked into North Dixie Highway’s expanse of restaurants and boutiques, no one is sleeping and no one is driving—instead, two Colombian immigrants are hard at work opening Salento Coffee, a small cafe designed to mirror their very country and culture. With the scent of savory pandebonos and café con leche permeating the interior, hand-painted guitars hanging on the walls and traditional Colombian music playing in the background, this little coffee shop is nothing less than a home-away-from-home for owners Jaime and Johana Lara. After years of language learning and saving money, the couple opened their cafe on Dec. 7, 2018. Since then, it has existed as a personal reminder of the life they left behind when they chose to come to the United States—and what they spend each waking hour trying to remember. In stark contrast to the passionate couple, however, COVID-19 did not view Salento Coffee as something worth protecting. Instead, the pandemic interpreted this passion project the same way it did every other small business: As its own personal target. Like many of WPB’s local business owners, this couple has faced major economic setbacks since the pandemic first struck in March of 2020—less than two years since their international dream became a local reality. Forced to completely eliminate indoor seating for a period of time and adapt to the standard expectations of the take-out lifestyle, Salento Coffee is one of many small businesses that attempted to serve customers who were few and far between. Even then, there is one significant aspect that COVID-19 hasn’t been able to steal away from them: The ability to keep their doors open. “I just say we were lucky because our type of visa is not a big business like restaurants that have a big number, a lot of employees, things like that,” Jaime Lara said. “It’s just me and my wife, so we can stay alive … we can survive.” In addition to prioritizing to-go orders and making use of various delivery services, the Laras have made every effort imaginable to counteract the financial assaults their business has faced since the early days of the pandemic. This includes acknowledging the aid they were—and were not—able to apply. Orchestrated by the Palm Beach County CARES for Business Program in the second half of 2020, the Restart Business Grant was designed to provide economic relief to small businesses impacted by COVID-19’s financial recession. Consisting of $23 million dollars available for allocation, this grant was created solely for owners who were forced to shut down and/or restrict aspects of their business in response to Gov. Ron DeSantis’ Executive Order 20-72 or Palm Beach County’s Emergency Order 20-002a. In the context of this program, the small businesses eligible for this grant must adhere to an extensive list of criteria, including—but not limited to—being domiciled in PBC, being in operation since Oct. 1, 2019, and through Feb. 29, 2020, and being able to prove that they make no more than “$5 million in total gross sales or receipts.” “We got a couple of aid from Palm Beach County, but there is different programs to apply for,” Jaime Lara said. “But that one was so hard to apply for. That was for small businesses but we have to have, like, special considerations.” Even though the Laras ended up not applying for the Restart Business Grant, they confirmed that their business did benefit from aid distributed by the city’s Community Redevelopment Agency, but refused to mention exactly how much they were given. While many local owners credit the city’s various aid programs for their ability to stay open during the pandemic, not all of WPB’s small businesses can say the same. Subculture Coffee Roasters, located at the west end of Clematis Street, fell victim to the fate the owners of Salento Coffee just barely avoided: They shut down completely for a span of six months. Mitchell Gibson, 27, has been one of the shop’s primary baristas since 2018, and is one of many who was forced to file for unemployment when all three of Subculture’s South Florida locations closed their doors. “The day that they announced the lockdown our boss brought us into the alley to have a company meeting,” Gibson said. “He's just like, ‘OK, so you guys should all file for unemployment because we don't know what's going on, or when we're going to open up again.” Given that this particular coffee shop is one of several locations that belong to Subculture Group—which also owns DADA, Dubliner, Howleys, Hullabaloo and Kapow Noodle Bar—their COVID-19 recovery process was a feat equal to—if not greater than—the pandemic’s initial attack itself, and one that required everyone to chip in and help. Gibson said Shawn Scott, the boss of Subculture Coffee’s WPB location at the time, continued to roast bags of coffee in the early days of the pandemic and, after encouraging his then ex-employees to market the shop’s bagged up wares on social media, proceeded to distribute a portion of the profits to staff who were out of work and struggling to make ends meet. Unlike Salento Coffee, it has not been confirmed if Subculture Coffee Roasters—or any of its locations—were eligible for the Restart Business Grant. There is, however, a shop a few doors down from Gibson’s workplace that most definitely wasn’t: Alchemy Juice Co. & Market. As the owner and founder of one of Clematis Street’s newest additions, Jennifer Wesley’s business strategy was much more unorthodox than any of her neighbors: She intentionally opened her small business approximately one year into the pandemic. “I feel like coming out of the gate fresh—even though it was a pandemic and people were still undecided about the vaccine, wearing masks and not wearing masks, all of that—I felt like it was a good time to just make a move,” Wesley said. Originally inspired by her mother’s experiences with organic food and all-natural juice remedies, Wesley initiated her small business in 2014 from the confines of her home—assisted with nothing more than a single countertop juicer. As the demands for her homemade products increased, Wesley eventually found herself moving from her collection of Norwalk models to an empty Clematis Street unit. Officially signing her lease in November of 2020, Wesley spent several months converting what used to be a bright red hookah lounge into her minimalist, plant-covered cafe—and leaving her fingerprints on “every square inch of the place.” Despite Wesley’s personal initiative and intense preparation, her small business was not exempt from COVID-19’s ongoing aftermath. Officially opening her doors on March 2, 2021, the newly established business owner saw firsthand the negative side effects both the pandemic and the aid being distributed by the federal government was causing; namely, a distinct absence of potential employees. “Our biggest hurdle has been with hiring and staffing,” Wesley said. “There were just a lot of people that weren't working because of things the government was affording them. And you can't beat that … you can't even compete with it.” In addition to the staffing shortage, Wesley reported that she was not eligible for the city’s Restart Business Grant—as she had opened her cafe after the city’s established deadline and didn’t have to limit any of her services after her business launched. Regardless of this setback, Alchemy Juice Co. & Market still exists as proof that WPB’s small-business owners can and will defy COVID-19’s odds to the best of their abilities. Three small businesses, three unique stories and three groups of people who share a single, unanimous goal: To reclaim some of the profits the COVID-19 pandemic has taken from them—with or without governmental assistance. By Brenna Brown

Cancer patients undergo mental and physical stress before and after any treatment provided, according to the National Library of Medicine. For cancer patient Barry Lawson exercise has been a getaway through his experience and has even motivated him to get up from bed even when feeling weary. Physical activity cannot only benefit by aiding quality of life but it may help in reducing other types of cancers according to NLM. The Cancer Related Fatigue Program at Palm Beach Atlantic University has been the catalyst for staying healthy during Lawson’s battle with pancreatic neuroendocrine cancer. After being diagnosed more than 10 years ago, Lawson has been on medication ever since. “It’s slow-growing; it’s not the pancreatic cancer everyone is worried about but that is what they have been fighting,” Lawson said. Lawson went about a year without any training because of tiresome treatment for his cancer. His ultimate goal was to get back into his routine of exercise, which he explains brought him energy. The American Cancer Society defines cancer-related fatigue symptoms as including loss of energy or the feeling of being drained. About 80% of cancer patients experience these fatigue symptoms because of radiation treatments. Lawson related to the fact that there are many days when he is simply too tired or worn out to get in the car and go to the CRFP. He explained that his support system is what gets him in the car to go to his workouts. Data from NLM has found that resistance training can reduce side effects during and after any treatment that a patient had undergone. Marcus Lantier, Lawson’s trainer at the CRFP, explained that the process of measuring a patient's fatigue can be difficult but with the help of testing it eases the process of exercise. “Each patient is a whole new story that I have to figure out,” Lantier said. “Building the right workout regimen is important to help with his or her fatigue symptoms.” Doctors have increasingly changed the way they have prescribed exercise since the 1990s, National Cancer Institute stated. The study of oncology, cancer treatment, has progressed exponentially to the point that NCL states that exercise can be prescribed the same way as drugs. Specifically noted in the NCI study has been aerobic and resistance training combined for an ultimate fitness plan for cancer patients. The study emphasized the fact that exercise should be more prevalent in knowing that exercise can be a treatment for cancer patients. Lantier explained the multitude of tests that are needed in order to decipher what exercise can be given because of injuries or surgeries that may have occurred from cancer treatments. “There is so much information that is needed to take into account when creating these exercises,” Lantier said. “It poses a major challenge because I want to give the best exercise treatments to my clients.” Training with a trainer might provide more accountability but also allow the patient to feel more secure in knowing that the trainer is knowledgeable about exercise. Lawson expressed gratitude toward Lantier and his dedication to constantly learning what is best for his workout regimen. NCI noticed that the major reason for healthcare providers not prescribing exercise is the lack of knowledge on what to prescribe and the safety of any exercise. Patients find programs that will guide them throughout a journey in the fitness realm. Still, only 7% of cancer patients incorporate fitness into their daily routine according to the NLM while 80% showed interest in learning about adding exercise to their lives. Lantier expressed nothing but joy to see someone like Lawson in the gym during his battle. “He's been through the chemo and the radiation time and time again, but he has the strength and the mental toughness to get in the weight room,” Lantier said. “To know that this is going to benefit him giving him a better life, so he can give a better life to the people around him, inspires me.” By Maria Teixeira

Incarcerated people face a myriad of obstacles after their release, with employment being near the top of the list. According to Lucius Couloute and Daniel Kopf’s study at Prison Policy Initiative, there is a 27% unemployment rate among formerly incarcerated people in the U.S. Couloute and Kopf found that the formerly incarcerated are 50% less likely to be called back by a potential employer, with a criminal record. Needless to say, the odds are against them. In 2015, Linda Keena and Chris Simmons performed a study called “Rethink, Reform, Reenter: An Entrepreneurial Approach to Prison Programming” where they measured the impact of in-prison entrepreneurship programming. Even after release, former inmates face what they called “collateral consequences,” which often reside in the workplace. Keena and Simmons wrote that employment is a crucial deterrent to recidivism. Jared Cavlovic has worked his way from addiction and jail time to now general manager of Zera’s Coffee Shop in Denton, Texas. Zera’s is a non-profit coffee shop affiliated with another local ministry in Denton, the Denton Freedom House. This ministry houses men and women who have struggled with addiction, homelessness and jail time, just to name a few. They then bring those men and women into this freedom house, clothe them and disciple them. What began as a furniture store with a small coffee shop bloomed into a fully functioning coffee shop that now hires people coming from these situations. “Us being in a college town, they started to recognize that people were staying more for the coffee than they were purchasing the furniture,” Cavlovic said. Cavlovic was a product of the Denton Freedom House. After facing drug and alcohol addiction, he found himself in the Denton County Jail. It was there he heard of and submitted himself to the Denton Freedom House. Once there, he graduated from the program, interned with the ministry, served as assistant manager and has now been promoted to his current position of general manager. “Zera” is Hebrew for “seed” or “seed sower.” According to Cavlovic, Zera’s mission is to sow seeds into the ministry, and everything purchased in the coffee shop goes directly into that work. “Everybody deserves a second chance at the end of the day — and we operate at that same standard,” Cavlovic said. When asked about the struggle inmates face when trying to get jobs, Cavlovic responded that it really depends on the person. Those who desire to get jobs will get jobs. But, there are limited options. Sometimes, former inmates are not always educated on all of their options or even aware of the help available to them. For example, Cavlovic recently found out that as a convicted felon, he qualifies for government grants to go back to school because it is considered rehabilitation for his life, but they did not tell him that. But, through hard work and dedication to pursuing a better and more fulfilling life, he has been able to be part of a bigger story at Zera’s. Lindsay Holloway faced a meth addiction for more than eight years. In 2010, she was indicted and found herself facing 10 years in federal prison. But, after being graced by a new prosecutor, she was sent to a re-entry program where she gained discipleship, resume training and interview training. The prosecutors did not want to lock her up again after seeing her progress. They believed she would not commit another crime. Holloway then continued her education and fell in love with prison ministry. Six years ago, she decided she wanted to help women post-incarceration by opening This is Living Ministries. The ministry began in 2016 and opened a safe house in 2019 where women could spend the first six months of the 12-month program on discipleship, entrepreneurship, life-skills training, resume building, getting their GEDs, parenting classes and recovery classes. Holloway noticed that women who go to work immediately are restricted from focusing on themselves. This house gave them a safe place to focus on that growth. “We set them up in responsibilities in making decisions and give them more exposure to being out in the world,” Holloway said. In addition to the ministry, Holloway and her husband have a small carpentry and refurbishment business on the side, which they plan to turn into a social enterprise. Then, they can use it as a training ground for women to teach them entrepreneurial skills. She said she wants to teach the women how to run the social enterprise through marketing, customer service and filing for licensing. “They will have these skills to use to either help someone else build their business or to build their own,” Holloway said. In 2019, the Illinois Criminal Justice Information Authority conducted research on the effectiveness of entrepreneurial programming for former inmates. Throughout this program, the inmates were taught entrepreneurial skills that would help them successfully transition back into the community. According to the study, eight of the nine key participants reported back that the training prepared them to either interview for a job or start their own business. It is programming like this that equips the formerly incarcerated with the needed skillset to successfully re-enter society and become beneficiaries of their community. By McKay Campbell

West Palm Beach, Fla. -- Josh Korman didn’t have a clear path when he went to college. This uncertainty is one many relate to when starting their university experience unless their aspiration is to be a lawyer, doctor, or pursue an entirely different profession with a clear path. Korman is the owner of Composition Coffee, which is a venture he started after graduating from Palm Beach Atlantic University with a bachelor’s degree in exercise science. Like many students, he approached college by trying things out and waiting until he could find his niche. After six years of school and copious tuition payments later, Korman realized he wanted to open up a coffee shop in his final year of school. He imagined a coffee shop that could fix the disconnect in society. He is just one example of the many who face this same challenge. Feeling pressured to adhere to a conventional path, young adults are quick to invest in higher education with lingering uncertainty. Korman felt forced to go to college, which is an unspoken obligation that often is unquestioned in society. “I think that the way things are set up, we have this old generation that is like ‘school is the way,’” Korman said. “That’s kind of drilled in our minds.” It doesn’t help that the costs to attend college continue to rise. According to data from the U.S. News and World Report, college costs have risen exponentially during the past 20 years. The tuition at private universities has jumped 144% in comparison to 171% for out-of-state students at public schools and 211% for in-state students at public schools. That doesn’t include the costs for people who go on to get a masters degree since there is an emphasis on higher education, with some employers narrowing their decision on applicants based on if they have achieved more than a bachelor’s degree. That’s why there has been an attitude change for Korman and others who share the same experience. There is also the issue of students being expected to know exactly what they want to do in life, while they are still in their young adult years. While this displays that uncertainty is present in the majority of college students, it should be expected due to societal pressures and the lack of direction high school students are given before they begin their college education. However, that doesn’t mean there aren’t problems within the system. “The system is a little broken,” Korman said. By Aaron Heckmann and Jordan Wolfe

Human trafficking is modern-day slavery that involves forcing, defrauding or coercing victims into sexual exploitation, according to the U.S. Department of State. This pervasive system deprives victims of their innate rights as human beings and it is happening here at home. Conversation around human trafficking in Palm Beach County is slowly but surely becoming more prevalent. Nonprofit and service providers in the area are working diligently to partner with individuals caught in the vicious cycle of trafficking. According to the Human Trafficking Hotline, Florida ranks third in the nation for incidents of human trafficking. Palm Beach County ranks third in Florida counties for suspected cases of human trafficking, which is measured by the number of calls to the national hotline. Local organizations, such as the Human Trafficking Coalition of the Palm Beaches, are fighting for the freedom of trafficked individuals. Laura Cusack, president of HTCPB, spends most of her day educating the local community on how to recognize the signs of trafficking in order to better report it and, hopefully, prevent it. The county’s high call volume to the Human Trafficking Hotline suggests that the more people educated on who to call, the higher the call volumes are. But, simultaneously, more calls. “A lot of calls look bad because it is a lot of trafficking, but also it can look good because people are actually reporting,” Cusack said. According to local nonprofits, such as HTCPB, there are several reasons for the high volume of calls that originate from the county. Palm Beach County is well-known for its tourism appeal. Cusack pointed out that industries such as agriculture and hospitality contribute to the transitive area because of their appeal to seasonal workers. In addition to sex trafficking, Palm Beach County is host to labor trafficking of seasonal workers coming to town on work visas. Any seasonal employees at places such as country clubs, restaurants and hotels are vulnerable to exploitation. Becky Dymond, executive director of Lighthouse Palm Beach County, added that people who are transient with no established community of support are more susceptible to human trafficking. With Palm Beach County having “a population that is not homogenous,” it can be difficult to recognize someone in commercial sexual activity. “We have a melting pot of so many different cultures and nationalities that no one is out of place,” Dymond said. Lighthouse PBC’s ultimate mission is to open a safe house for local women. Dymond said she believes that building relationships through a safe house community is what will protect women from the trafficking cycle. Traffickers could be running five women at a time, said Dymond. In the trafficking dynamic, many times, the women manage the women, and they do so with ruthless tactics. If a trafficker gets caught, he can condemn one of his victims by placing the blame on her. It works as its own functioning community. “Everybody wants a community,” Dymond added, “even if we think this is an odd one.” Lighthouse PBC’s efforts are most effective with women in their mid-to-upper 30s. These are women who have been in the system for so long that they desperately want out. Traffickers often provide food, clothing and housing, while limiting the options of victims who are seeking a way out. It is difficult for these victims to pursue change over having their needs met. “My job is to create a situation that entices someone to change,” she stated. Jamie Bond, the director of advancement at Place of Hope, struck a passion for human trafficking victims 12 years ago. Place of Hope started in 2001 by serving children in the Palm Beach County foster-care system who had been neglected or abused. Around that time, they noticed some of these children were showing signs of sexual exploitation, prompting a shift in their focus to sex trafficking victims. Place of Hope uses a holistic approach in serving males, females, adults and minors coming out of human trafficking. According to Bond, as culture shifts, primarily through social media, there is more of an awareness and willingness to talk about this uncomfortable topic. “It has not really been until the last 10 years or so that people have really been open to discussing that human trafficking really happens in the United States and that it happens here in Florida,” Bond said. Despite the stigmas, human trafficking does not only happen in obscure areas. And, Bond said, trafficking often takes place in plain sight. Some of the children seeking help from organizations such as Place of Hope grew up with parents who trafficked them to help support various addictions or meet financial obligations. What may seem like normal scenarios often have a darker contraposition. “People don’t want to admit a lot of times that these things are happening in our community as a result of our being uneducated, naive or honestly just wanting to turn a blind eye,” Bond added. Savannah Parvu, a central Florida resident and sex trafficking survivor said her journey began when she started facing sexual abuse around the age of 5. Through family addictions and foster-care horrors, she sought to overcome the trauma of her past in trafficking. “It’s a long process, but there is hope after being trafficked,” Parvu said. Creating awareness for the National Hotline is one of the key factors to catching traffickers in the act. Once people know the number to call, if they see something, they can say something. Empowering communities to take a proactive stance against human trafficking, through aggressive tactics such as education and networking, affords victims a greater chance of recovering. If you are suspicious of a potential trafficking incident you can report it by calling the National Human Trafficking Hotline at 1(888) 373-7888. By McKay Campbell

At the conclusion of the annual South Florida Fair, many were left wondering how the large, crowded event handled the COVID-19 pandemic and other safety concerns. “I did feel safe for the most part. I went with a group of people, but it’s definitely not somewhere I would go alone,” Kylie Lazarus, a Palm Beach Atlantic University alumnus, said. The fair, which lasted for 17 days this year, revealed their secrets to safety a few days before it ended. Last year in January, the fair was held as a “mini fair” that only had outdoor activities, rides for children and less food vendors. Although the COVID-19 pandemic forced the fair to scale back during its 2021 tenure, it was fully operational this year. The fair applied safety precautions such as the use of hand sanitizer, sanitation areas and requiring its staff to wear facial coverings. Vicki Chouris, CEO and president of the South Florida Fair and Palm Beach County Expositions, said she thought the fair was a success in regards to the COVID-19 situation. “We do everything we can to keep people safe,” Chouris explained. She noted they have their own full-time, year round security team. This year, an additional 40 to 50 safety personnel were hired. “We also work closely with Palm Beach County sheriffs to help with traffic control and make sure everything goes smoothly,” Chouris said. Additionally, the fair announced that any persons under the age of 18 were required to be accompanied by an adult after 8:30 p.m. on Friday and Saturday nights. This rule was instigated after Chouris noticed how unsupervised youths were roaming the fairgrounds, possibly agitating other fairgoers and altering the family-friendly atmosphere. “The purpose of that was definitely for safety reasons,” Chouris noted. After the rule took effect, Chouris regarded it as a success. She explained that she saw “very few incidents.” She expects to continue the rule for future fairs. However, some still feel this is an issue. “I saw lots of teenagers. I went on a Friday evening and tons of groups of teens were there walking around and hanging out,” said Lazarus, who attended the fair after the rule change. In regards to ride safety, Chorus explained that the rides are inspected by the state of Florida prior to the opening of the fair. “We also have an inspector on-site throughout the whole 17 days.” Safety, of course, was on all fairgoers' minds. The fair also worked to accommodate the safety concerns of individuals with sensory sensitivities. Once other venues in the area became certified, the fair started their own certification process this year to become sensory inclusive. “We wanted to be more diverse and inclusive,” said Rita De Mier-Lincoln, director of brand management at the fair. To help with the safety of sensory individuals, all the staff at the fair were trained to recognize symptoms of panic or distress. The staff was equipped with bags containing noise-canceling headphones, items to fidget with, verbal cue cards and weighted lap pads. Quiet rooms were also added throughout the fairgrounds so that fairgoers had the opportunity to escape the noise or relax. The fair also sought to promote autism awareness. The company Movia brought this year’s theme, “Rockin’ Robots,” which featured robotics exhibits, both big and small, for fairgoers to admire. Movia, according to their website, “is a collaborative robotics company building systems and software to help children on the autism spectrum learn and grow using robotic technology.” Amid all the changes to this year's fair, not all were considered an improvement to fairgoers. A $10 parking fee was established in a lot that had been free in previous years. “I think it’s unnecessary, considering you have to pay an entrance fee plus the ride tickets,” Lazarus said. “I think the fair in general is already a little pricey for what you get, so charging for parking is a bit too much in my opinion.” However, the fair still attracted new and familiar faces. Families from across Palm Beach County turned up for classic fair traditions like funnel cakes and Ferris wheels. Even though the fair looked slightly different this year, people from all over Palm Beach County and the surrounding area attended. The South Florida Fair was a success through its ability to cater to different safety concerns for people of all different backgrounds. By Jasmine Lien and Matthew Sargent

A new bill advancing in the Florida Legislature this year would allow for audio and video recordings from inside public K-12 classrooms. If implemented by their district, House bill 1055 would require teachers to wear microphones during class sessions, making footage of teachers and students readily available for principals’ oversight. Spearheaded by Rep. Bob Rommel, a Republican from Naples, the bill is designed to document instances of “abuse or neglect” against students by teachers or other students. If such an instance occurred, the parents of those involved would be granted access to the recordings, while students outside the scope of the investigation would be blurred from the footage. This proposal, however, is part of a greater wave of legislation passing over the Florida education system this year. After Florida’s Board of Education banned critical race theory last June, and with the Parental Rights in Education, or “Don’t Say Gay,” bill that restricts classroom discussions of sexuality and gender passing through the state senate, a question is raised as to whether ideological trespasses will now be considered actionable offenses with teachers under constant surveillance. “The proposal to remotely monitor classrooms is a dangerous slide toward authoritarianism,” Brandon Wolf said, a representative for Equality Florida. “It's part of a broader agenda of censorship and surveillance being championed by Gov. DeSantis and his allies right now.” This movement within the education landscape can be contextualized by the COVID-19 pandemic, during which remote learning awarded parents a front-row experience into their child’s education. As students continue to return to in-person classes, such legislation not only maintains this level of accessibility, but seeks to enforce parental discretion. The Parental Rights in Education bill, for example, specifically empowers parents to seek injunctive relief if teachers fail to comply with the state’s curricular parameters. “For every bit of sympathy we have for parents having right over how their child is educated, there's an equal and countervailing concern that parents can’t micromanage the classroom,” James Todd said, an attorney and professor of American Politics, Freedom in American Society and constitutional law at Palm Beach Atlantic University. Classroom surveillance would armor parents with a heckler’s veto, illustrating the bill’s fundamental issue: By failing to enumerate the kinds of behavior that the state would consider “abuse or neglect,” critics fear that this bill could have a chilling effect on teachers’ free speech. “The speaker doesn't know what he or she could be held legally responsible for, so they’ll just censor themselves,” Todd said. “It (HB 1055) could be ruled unconstitutional unless the state cleans up this definition of ‘abuse.’” Proponents of the bill argue that this is a natural evolution for classrooms, seeing the advancements in education technology, sparked by the pandemic, as tools to exercise existing government jurisdiction, since public school teachers are considered government employees. While it’s true that speech is only protected by the First Amendment when government employees are speaking as private individuals, compulsory recordings and ideological censorship are at odds with legal precedent. “Even if controlling teachers' classroom discussions on race and gender does not violate the Free Speech Clause, it is certainly contrary to free speech values,” Caroline Corbin said, a constitutional law professor at the University of Miami School of Law. A 1943 opinion from Supreme Court Justice Robert Jackson in West Virginia State Board of Education v. Barnette, a landmark free speech case that found public schools’ compulsory flag-salute to be unconstitutional, concluded that the “fixed star in our constitutional constellation” is that no government official “can prescribe what shall be orthodox” in politics or opinion. By obscuring the definition of actionable abuse and using ominous tactics to enforce it, the state arbitrarily skews classroom conversations. “The Florida Legislature is using its power to target ideas it does not like -- exactly what the Free Speech Clause was designed to prevent,” Corbin said. “School boards should make decisions about what is taught in schools based on pedagogy, not politics. That is clearly not what is happening in Florida.” This added layer of scrutiny comes as school districts grapple with the effects of a nationwide teacher shortage, many citing the pandemic as the catalyst. COVID-19 protocols, low pay, increasing mass shootings and politicized classroom curriculums have left schools largely short staffed. Last October, the Florida Education Association reported having over 5,000 vacancies for teaching positions, with an additional 4,000 available school staff positions. These numbers have exponentially increased, as Florida continues to trail behind the nation, ranking 49th for teacher pay. By now inviting Big Brother into classrooms, critics worry this could exacerbate an already dire situation. “The concern over impacts on talent-sourcing and retention is a real one,” Wolf said. “Adding unnecessary and burdensome roadblocks to creating inclusive classrooms and teaching a diverse array of students will do nothing to encourage more people to jump into the education field, nor will it attract new teachers into the Florida school system.” This proposal must pass through several Florida committees before being introduced to the state’s House of Representatives. If it survives, school districts will be required to vote on it by Jan. 1, 2023. By Haley Hartner

Ronaldo Chang Barrero, the owner of West Palm Beach art warehouse, the Box Gallery, is finding new ways to integrate present social movements with Hispanic-influenced art. His gallery contains various works from over 50 local, national and international artists. Barrero chooses to display art representing underrepresented and overrepresented issues by finding artists that are not creating commodities, but have depth and context. “Everything is a social justice exhibit,” Barrero says. For the past seven years, Barrero has held an annual exhibit for Hispanic Heritage Month. This year, this exhibit looks slightly different. With the United Nations Climate Change Hub 360, an event showcasing actions for climate change prevention, starting on Oct. 16, he wanted to combine the two events to create more influence for this particular exhibit. “Hispanic Heritage [Month] did not make me shy away from the issue of the environment, or conservation and stewardship,” Barrero adds. The Box Gallery is now displaying the work of Colombian artist, Moises Morales Duque, whose work debuted in San Fransisco and, later, Colombia. Duque takes an unorthodox approach to art by setting a blank canvas in public areas and welcoming people to paint freely, documenting the human footprint. Duque then paints around the stains and adds an animal in the middle of the man-made chaos. “These paintings are a call to think a little bit more about our actions,” Duque expressed. Duque invites all ages to paint on his canvases, but admits that children are normally the primary contributors. Both Barrero and Duque agreed that collecting impressions from children makes a stronger impression. “The more footprints that we leave, the less room there is for cohabitation,” Barrero says. By doing away with a normal exhibit, like highlighting artists of Hispanic heritage, Barrero, with the help of artist friend Duque, is becoming a strong driving force for social justice art. The Box Gallery does not shy away from highlighting difficult topics that are being discussed by the youth of today. Barrero said he thinks of a gallery as a sacred space, or temple, where controversial conversations can exist without challenging others’ reputations. By McKay Campbell