A Meeting of the Minds

Note: This article originally appeared in the print version of Cape May Magazine, in advance of event. TEDx Cape May has video from this year’s event on their website.

I grew up in Miami, Florida, a city that is both a sprawling metropolis and a laid-back beach town. And even there, with all the culture and complexity that comes with urban life, the “beach town” part always seemed to get a bad rap. All sun and fun, not much substance. Never mind the fact that you could find vibrant arts communities and intellectual circles within a stone’s throw of the shoreline; it is a stereotype that stuck, and one I have always taken issue with.

So, when we moved to Cape May, I was not surprised to find a place with layers: part sleepy backwater, part vibrant seasonal community, and yes, more culture than it often gets credit for. Two local theaters, East Lynn and Cape May Stage, both bring exceptional talent and provide wonderful shows for many months of the year. A world-class jazz festival not once, but twice annually, bringing in Grammy-award-winning musicians from far and wide and offering them to our community for what still feels like pennies on the dollar compared to the big-name festivals elsewhere. And of course, our natural heritage: the bird and butterfly migrations that draw visitors from across the globe, people who know that this little peninsula can offer spectacles of movement and color unmatched anywhere else.

Still, despite the steady peppering of concerts, plays, and festivals, Cape May is not exactly known as a hotbed of idea exchange—at least not in the way I imagine a Chautauqua, those 19^th– and early-20th-century gatherings that mixed culture, education, and community into one shared space. Chautauqua started in western New York, but the model spread widely, built on the idea of intentional meetings of the mind, where lectures, performances, and conversations were all part of the same fabric.

We do not really have that here, not in a formal sense, at least. So, when I first heard that TED Talks were coming to Cape May in the “pop-up” TEDx format, I was intrigued. Could this take root here? I mean, there is no shortage of great minds either living in or passing through Cape May. We just had not been in the habit of gathering them under one roof.

Turns out, it could take root. And it has.

Since 2012, TEDx Cape May has brought together thinkers, creators, and doers for one October day each year. The debut lineup included locals like Jack Wright, Curtis Bashaw, and the late Danny Cohen. Later years brought nationally known names; world-renowned musician and activist Wyclef Jean took the stage in 2017. And then there was New York Times bestselling author Bianca Bosker, who once explained to a Cape May audience how a scantily clad woman taught her something profound about art. I will leave that right there. You can watch the talk online.

One reason TEDx has endured here is the format itself. Each talk is short, about 15 minutes, just tight enough to keep the audience engaged, but long enough to convey a fully formed idea. There is no long-winded academic droning, no panel discussions dissolving into jargon. Just a distilled argument or story, crafted in a way to leave you thinking.

But TEDx Cape May is also distinctly of this place. The themes often reflect the culture and climate of our seaside town. “Recreation and Re-Creation.” “Nature and Nurture.” Titles that could work anywhere, sure, but which feel particularly at home here, where nature and recreation are not just weekend hobbies, they are woven into our identity.

This year’s theme, “Being Human,” feels just as apt. The speaker list is as diverse as the topic itself: people whose work spans science, storytelling, and connection. Keith McCormick will explore “The Art of Innovation in the Age of AI,” offering a framework for using artificial intelligence to expand creativity while keeping hold of human judgment and wonder that fuel our best ideas. Alexis Redding will share “The Real Secret to Adulting,” revealing research that shows how the stories we tell about our own lives can unintentionally mislead young people — and how more honest narratives can help them navigate adulthood with resilience. And Dani Klein Modisett’s “What My Mother’s Alzheimer’s Teaches Us About Laughter” blends comedy, caregiving, and human connection, reminding us of humor’s quiet power even in the hardest moments.

The beauty of a broad theme is that you never quite know which talk will stay with you the longest. Sometimes it is the one you expect. Sometimes it is the one you almost skipped, but decided to hear anyway, and which then lodges in your mind for weeks.

And the magic does not stop when the final talk wraps. In fact, TEDx’s real work often happens afterward, and Cape May provides so many “afterward” possibilities. You might join friends at Taco Caballito for a margarita or two, swapping favorite moments from the day. You might take a slow walk to a bench overlooking The Nature Conservancy’s South Cape May Meadows Preserve, letting the salt air mix with whatever ideas are still tumbling through your mind. Or you might wander barefoot to the ocean’s edge, just a few sandy steps from Cape May Convention Hall, where the waves in October still carry a summer’s warmth, and where you can stand ankle-deep and let it all settle in.

That’s because TEDx Cape May is more than a day of talks. It is a convergence.

Cape May is no stranger to convergence. We sit at the tip of a geographic funnel that gathers migrating birds, monarch butterflies, dragonflies, and even whales, on their seasonal journeys. TEDx is a migration of another sort: ideas passing through, ideas mixing, ideas finding unexpected companions before taking off again. The energy is quieter than the Hawk Watch Platform in October, but the effect is similar. You show up because you never know what might appear.

And like migration, the impact lingers. A bird banded here might be spotted thousands of miles away months later. An idea heard here might resurface in your mind weeks later, reshaped by something you read, or by someone you meet. It might inspire you to start a project, join a cause, or—why not?—propose a TEDx talk of your own.

That is the other truth about TEDx; it works best when you stop thinking of it as a spectator sport. It is a pleasure to sit in the audience, of course, but the talks are also an invitation. We all have something to contribute—stories, insights, hard-won lessons. TEDx Cape May is a reminder that the intellectual life of a community is made up of its participants, not just its headliners.

If you live here year-round, the event can connect you to people and perspectives outside your daily routine, the kind of encounters that shift your points of view in ways that linger long after the last talk. If you are visiting, it can give you a deeper sense of the place than a beach chair ever could; an understanding that Cape May is not just a backdrop for leisure, but a stage for ideas.

And for everyone, it is a rare chance to feed the part of the self that is not only looking for entertainment or escape, but for connection, understanding, and maybe even transformation.

So, this October, as the air turns crisp and the raptors stream past the lighthouse, consider setting aside
October 5th 1:30 to 6 for TEDx Cape May. Go for the talks. Stay for the conversations they spark. Leave with your mind just a little more open, your curiosity just a little more awake, and your sense of place expanded to include not just the beach and the birds, but the ideas that have passed through, taken hold, and maybe even taken flight.

Chautauqua, eat your heart out.