Last Wednesday’s Town Hall wasn’t what I expected.
I walked into the meeting thinking the biggest discussions would revolve around redevelopment, affordable housing, retail, and some of the long-term decisions shaping East Brunswick’s future. Those topics certainly dominated much of the evening, and I expected there would be disagreement. That’s healthy. Public meetings are supposed to include difficult questions, differing viewpoints, and passionate opinions from both elected officials and residents.
What I didn’t expect was to leave thinking almost entirely about communication.
That’s unfortunate because, in my opinion, Mayor Brad Cohen had a lot of worthwhile information to share. Throughout the evening, he explained how redevelopment fits into East Brunswick’s affordable housing obligations, why attracting businesses isn’t as simple as convincing a retailer to open its doors here, and why municipalities often have to make decisions that aren’t always popular but may be necessary. He also spoke about garbage collection contracts, changes to the Township’s insurance, utility providers like Optimum and Verizon FiOS, and several initiatives he believes have saved taxpayers money over the years.
Whether you agree with every policy or not, I thought many of those explanations were informative. In fact, there were several moments when I found myself nodding along because I thought he made a fair point.
That’s exactly why I left disappointed.
The information itself wasn’t the problem. The delivery was.
Before I go any further, I want to be clear about what this article is. This isn’t a straight news recap. It’s an opinion column that includes factual observations from the meeting, my own opinions, and, where I clearly identify them, my personal speculation. My goal isn’t to convince you that I’m right. In fact, I encourage everyone to watch the Town Hall meeting for themselves and decide whether you agree with my conclusions. You may see things differently than I did, and that’s perfectly fair.
I also want to make something else clear. This isn’t an article about whether redevelopment is good or bad. Reasonable people can disagree on that. It’s also not about whether every decision made by the Township has been the right one. Instead, this is about something I think is equally important in local government: communication. More specifically, it’s about how the way a message is delivered can sometimes overshadow the message itself.
As I reflected on the meeting afterward, I realized I wasn’t replaying statistics or planning documents in my head. I wasn’t thinking about housing formulas or retail projections. I was thinking about conversations. I was thinking about the exchanges between the mayor and residents, moments where sarcasm crept into the discussion, opportunities where curiosity could have replaced defensiveness, and how a meeting that could have educated a room full of people instead left many talking about the tone rather than the substance.
That’s a missed opportunity.
Giving Credit Where It’s Due
If you’re going to criticize an elected official, I believe you also have a responsibility to acknowledge what they did well. Politics has become so polarized that too often people refuse to give credit to someone simply because they’re on the other side of an issue. I don’t think that’s productive, and I don’t think it’s fair.
One of the strongest parts of the evening was Mayor Cohen’s willingness to tackle complicated topics head-on. Redevelopment, affordable housing obligations, PILOT agreements, retail recruitment, and municipal finance aren’t exactly light conversation. These issues are complicated, often misunderstood, and sometimes impossible to explain in a thirty-second soundbite. To his credit, he didn’t avoid those discussions. He spent considerable time trying to connect the dots and explain why many of these issues are intertwined.
Take redevelopment, for example. For years, residents have debated whether East Brunswick should continue approving apartment projects or pursue a different path. Some people see redevelopment as progress. Others see it as overdevelopment. Many fall somewhere in between. During the Town Hall, the mayor attempted to explain why municipalities don’t always have as much flexibility as residents might assume. Affordable housing requirements, state mandates, market forces, and private investment all play a role in shaping what ultimately gets built.
Whether those explanations changed anyone’s mind is another question, but I appreciated that he took the time to explain the reasoning rather than simply asking people to trust the process.
The same could be said for some of the Township’s financial decisions. The mayor discussed efforts involving garbage collection, municipal insurance, and utility competition, arguing that these were examples of work happening behind the scenes that rarely receives public attention. He’s probably right about that. Residents tend to notice ribbon cuttings, new buildings, and road projects. They don’t usually notice the negotiations that save money on contracts or the administrative decisions that may reduce long-term costs.
If those efforts have saved taxpayers money, they deserve recognition.
That’s actually one of the themes I agreed with most during the evening. Local government isn’t just about announcing new projects. It’s also about managing the day-to-day operations that most people never see. Success isn’t always measured by what’s built. Sometimes it’s measured by what costs less, works better, or avoids becoming a larger problem down the road.
Those aren’t exciting headlines, but they’re important responsibilities.
Ironically, I think those accomplishments deserved to be the focus of more conversations after the meeting. Instead, much of what people talked about afterward had little to do with redevelopment, garbage collection, or municipal finances.
They talked about the tone.
When Delivery Becomes the Story
One of the reasons I found the meeting frustrating is because I’ve seen Mayor Cohen communicate exceptionally well before.
During his congressional campaign, I thought he was prepared, focused, and disciplined. He answered difficult questions directly, stayed on message, and presented himself as someone who understood the issues he was discussing. Whether voters agreed with his positions or not, he came across as composed and confident. That’s the version of Brad Cohen I expected to see at this Town Hall.
Instead, there were moments where the conversation seemed to become more personal than productive.
Several times throughout the evening, I found myself thinking, “That’s actually a really good answer.” Then, almost immediately afterward, I found myself wondering why it had been delivered with a sarcastic remark or a tone that felt unnecessarily dismissive.
Communication is more than facts. It’s also about whether people feel heard.
A mayor can have the right answer and still lose an audience if residents walk away feeling like their concerns were brushed aside. That’s not because they suddenly disagree with the facts. It’s because people don’t just remember what was said. They remember how they were made to feel.
That’s why I don’t think the biggest story from the Town Hall was redevelopment.
I think the biggest story was communication.
As the evening went on, there seemed to be a recurring pattern. Residents would ask a question or make a comment, and instead of simply responding to the concern being raised, the conversation would sometimes shift toward correcting the resident, challenging the premise of the question, or pushing back against what the mayor appeared to believe they were implying.
Maybe that wasn’t his intention.
Maybe it was simply frustration after answering similar questions for years.
Maybe it was fatigue.
I don’t know.
That’s where opinion ends and speculation begins, and I don’t want to pretend I know what was going through his mind.
What I do know is how those exchanges came across to me as someone sitting in the audience.
Instead of feeling like a conversation between residents and their mayor, parts of the meeting felt more like a debate where every question needed to be won rather than explored.
That’s an important distinction because local government isn’t Congress. Residents aren’t political opponents. Even when someone asks a frustrating question or voices criticism you’ve heard a hundred times before, they’re still your constituents. Sometimes they aren’t looking for a perfect answer. They’re looking to feel like they’ve been heard.
And that’s where I think the meeting began to lose some of its momentum.
Why Farrell’s Was Never Really About Farrell’s
One exchange from the evening kept replaying in my mind long after the meeting ended. It wasn’t because of the specifics of the redevelopment discussion. It was because I think two very different conversations were happening at the same time.
Residents were talking about memories.
The mayor was talking about policy.
Those are not the same conversation.
Throughout the meeting, references were made to Farrell’s and what many longtime residents remember as “the old East Brunswick.” My impression was that Mayor Cohen interpreted those comments as criticism of the Township’s direction or as an argument against redevelopment. I walked away seeing something very different.
I don’t think most people who bring up Farrell’s are asking to turn the calendar back forty years. I don’t think they’re suggesting East Brunswick should reject every redevelopment project or ignore the legal realities surrounding affordable housing. I think they’re talking about something much simpler.
They’re talking about memories.
Anyone who grew up here remembers places that no longer exist. Farrell’s wasn’t just an ice cream restaurant. Brunswick Square Mall wasn’t just a shopping center. The movie theater, the arcade, the stores we hung out in after school, those places became part of people’s lives. They were where teenagers got their first jobs, where families celebrated birthdays, where friends met on Friday nights, and where countless memories were made.
Missing those places doesn’t automatically mean someone opposes progress.
It simply means they’re nostalgic.
There’s an important difference.
A few months ago, Rachel and I recorded one of my favorite podcast episodes we’ve done together called Mall Rats: A Trip Down Memory Lane. The entire episode was nothing more than two people reminiscing about growing up in East Brunswick. We talked about the mall, the stores, Farrell’s, and all the places that shaped our childhood.
It wasn’t political.
It wasn’t criticizing Mayor Cohen.
It wasn’t criticizing the Township Council.
It wasn’t even about redevelopment.
It was simply two lifelong residents smiling while remembering what it was like growing up here.
That’s why I found this part of the Town Hall frustrating. I think the mayor may have been hearing criticism when many residents were simply expressing nostalgia.
Those aren’t the same thing.
People are capable of saying, “I miss Farrell’s,” while also understanding why East Brunswick has changed over the last several decades.
They’re capable of missing the old mall while also recognizing that retail has changed nationwide.
They’re capable of supporting redevelopment while still wishing a few places from their childhood were still around.
Those ideas can exist at the same time.
In my opinion, that’s where an opportunity was missed. Rather than acknowledging those emotions and then explaining why the Township has changed, the discussion sometimes felt like it became a defense of redevelopment itself. Once that happened, I think two conversations that could have complemented each other started moving in opposite directions.
Sometimes the best response isn’t another statistic.
Sometimes it’s simply saying, “I miss it too.”
That small acknowledgment can completely change the tone of a conversation.
Listening Versus Preparing a Response
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned from interviewing people over the years is that listening and waiting for your turn to talk are two completely different things.
When someone asks a question, there are really two questions being asked.
There’s the literal question.
Then there’s the reason behind it.
I don’t always think those reasons were recognized Wednesday night.
There were several moments where residents appeared to be expressing frustration, confusion, or concern, yet the response focused on correcting the details of what they said rather than understanding why they felt that way in the first place.
One exchange in particular stood out to me. A resident expressed disappointment with an answer they had received. Instead of the conversation becoming about why the resident felt disappointed, it shifted toward explaining how the question should have been asked.
Technically, perhaps that was fair.
Practically, I don’t think it accomplished much.
Imagine telling a friend they’re upset the wrong way. Even if you’re right, they’re probably going to leave feeling more frustrated than when the conversation started.
Public meetings aren’t debates to be won. They’re opportunities to build trust.
Sometimes that means answering the question someone asked.
Sometimes it means answering the question they were trying to ask.
Those aren’t always the same thing.
There was another moment when the phrase “stop whining” entered the conversation. Some people will undoubtedly say it wasn’t a big deal. Others will argue it was taken out of context.
That’s fine.
Everyone is entitled to their interpretation.
Intention and perception are two very different things. My reaction was simple. Comments like that immediately change the atmosphere in the room. Whether intended jokingly or seriously, they shift attention away from the issue being discussed and toward the exchange itself. Once that happens, people stop listening to the explanation because they’re thinking about the remark.
Again, that’s unfortunate because there were genuinely good explanations throughout the evening.
The Mayor I Remember Seeing
Part of my disappointment comes from knowing Mayor Cohen is capable of communicating differently.
During his congressional campaign, I watched debates where he came across as calm, prepared, and persuasive. He answered questions directly and rarely appeared rattled, even when challenged. That’s one of the reasons Wednesday surprised me.
This wasn’t someone who lacked knowledge.
Quite the opposite.
If anything, the mayor’s command of the issues was one of his strengths. He clearly understands redevelopment, municipal finance, and the challenges facing East Brunswick. I don’t question that for a second.
What I question is whether that knowledge is always reaching the audience the way he intends.
Knowledge and communication aren’t the same skill.
Someone can be an expert on a subject and still struggle to connect with people who disagree with them.
Someone can have every fact on their side and still lose the room.
That’s what I believe happened at several points during this meeting.
Social Media Isn’t the Problem
Another theme that surfaced repeatedly throughout the evening was social media.
To be fair, misinformation absolutely exists online. Every community deals with rumors, incomplete information, screenshots taken out of context, and posts that spread faster than facts. East Brunswick isn’t unique in that regard.
But I don’t think social media itself is the problem.
In many ways, social media has become the modern version of people talking over the backyard fence or gathering at the local diner. It’s where residents ask questions, share concerns, celebrate accomplishments, and yes, sometimes spread information that turns out to be wrong.
That isn’t going away.
The answer isn’t pretending those conversations don’t exist.
It’s participating in them effectively.
Eyes on EB exists because people want information.
Our Facebook page exists because that’s where many residents already are.
The Township uses social media.
The Police Department uses social media.
Schools use social media.
Parents organize through social media.
Businesses advertise through social media.
It’s simply part of modern communication.
When officials become frustrated with conversations happening online, I understand why. Nobody enjoys being criticized. Nobody enjoys reading inaccurate information about themselves or their decisions.
But criticism isn’t created by Facebook.
Facebook simply gives it a place to be seen.
Likewise, praise isn’t created by Facebook either.
It simply amplifies conversations that were probably happening anyway.
One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that when official pages disable comments or limit interaction, the conversations don’t stop. They simply move somewhere else. Instead of asking questions directly on an official page, residents ask them in neighborhood groups, private conversations, or community pages where Township officials aren’t participating.
Personally, I’d rather see more conversation, not less.
Yes, it can be messy.
Yes, misinformation has to be corrected.
But dialogue is almost always healthier than silence.
To me, Wednesday night’s Town Hall reinforced that point. Communication isn’t just about presenting information. It’s also about understanding where people are getting their information, what concerns they have before they walk into the room, and why certain topics keep resurfacing year after year.
Ignoring those conversations doesn’t make them disappear.
Addressing them thoughtfully might.
The Missing Middle
As the meeting continued, I found myself thinking about a topic that wasn’t discussed nearly as much as I had hoped: teenagers.
East Brunswick has always done a good job creating programs for young children. Between the Recreation Department, the Library, youth sports, camps, and countless seasonal activities, families with younger kids have plenty of opportunities to stay involved. The Township has also made significant investments in programs for seniors, recognizing that older residents want opportunities to stay active and connected to the community. Those efforts deserve credit because they improve the quality of life for a large portion of our population.
What seems to get overlooked, at least from my perspective, is everyone in between.
Talk to enough parents of middle school and high school students and a common theme starts to emerge. Many of them find themselves driving to neighboring towns for volleyball leagues, basketball courts, open gym nights, or simply places where teenagers can spend time with friends. It’s not that East Brunswick offers nothing. It’s that many parents feel there could be more. Teenagers eventually age out of children’s programs, but they aren’t adults yet. They still need places to gather, stay active, and feel connected to their own community.
When the discussion turned to recreation and the future of the Community Arts Center and the Township’s designated “open space” areas, I kept waiting for someone to acknowledge that gap. Instead, much of the conversation centered on preserving open space and existing amenities. Those are worthwhile goals, but I couldn’t help thinking that the needs of teenagers deserved a larger place in the conversation. If we’re serious about building a community where families want to stay, we should be asking what life looks like not just for a five-year-old or a retiree, but for a fifteen-year-old looking for something to do on a Friday night.
One example stood out. During the discussion, the ice rink was mentioned as a place for kids of all ages, with the mayor specifically focusing his attention on the seniors in the room, informing them of the many “community rooms” that can be rented for a grandchild’s birthday party, and how the third floor can be used as a walking track for free. But not once was there any mention of programs being offered by the Township itself at that location for children and/or young adults.
After the meeting, Rachel had an opportunity to continue that conversation with Mayor Cohen, inquiring about the possibility of some sort of community recreation center being created anywhere in our town. She told me that he shared broader ideas and future plans that the Township has been exploring for youth programming beyond simply skating at the ice rink itself. Hearing that made me think, “That’s exactly the kind of information people wanted to hear.”
If those conversations are happening behind the scenes, that’s encouraging. But why not share them during the Town Hall? Why were our children not part of the dialogue beyond just e-bike concerns and a new high school referendum? Residents are often asking for more opportunities for pre-teens and teenagers without realizing there may already be ideas being explored. Once again, it felt less like a problem with the work being done and more like a problem with communicating that work to the public.
Does the Administration Have Its Finger on the Pulse?
This is probably the most subjective part of my opinion, and I fully recognize that someone else may have watched the same meeting and reached a different conclusion.
Still, I left wondering whether the administration truly recognizes what many residents are trying to communicate.
Not everyone. East Brunswick is a large, diverse community with thousands of opinions, and no elected official is ever going to satisfy everyone. But certain themes come up over and over again. Residents talk about traffic. They talk about redevelopment. They talk about preserving the character of the town. They talk about wanting more for teenagers. They reminisce about places that are gone. Whether those conversations happen at Town Hall, on social media, or over coffee at a local diner, they’re remarkably consistent.
I don’t believe those conversations are driven by people who simply dislike change. More often than not, they’re driven by people who care deeply about the community they’ve called home for years. They want reassurance that today’s decisions will still leave East Brunswick feeling like East Brunswick twenty years from now.
That’s why I keep coming back to the discussion about Farrell’s. To me, it became symbolic of something much larger than an ice cream restaurant. Residents weren’t asking for the Township to rebuild Farrell’s. They were talking about memories, traditions, and the places that shaped their lives. A simple acknowledgment of that nostalgia could have changed the tone of the entire conversation before moving into an explanation about why redevelopment has changed the landscape over the years.
Sometimes people don’t need to be convinced before they feel understood.
Sometimes they need to feel understood before they’re willing to be convinced.
A Conversation That Stayed With Me
After the meeting ended, Rachel had a brief conversation with Mayor Cohen that has stayed with me ever since.
She told him, “We’re on your side.”
His response was something to the effect of, “Well, it doesn’t seem like it.”
Neither comment struck me as confrontational. In fact, I think they revealed something far more important.
From our perspective, Eyes on EB has always tried to support this community. We’ve promoted Township events, highlighted local businesses, celebrated student achievements, covered Board of Education and Township meetings, and shared information that helps residents stay informed. At the same time, we’ve also asked difficult questions and published criticism when we believed it was warranted. That’s part of covering local government honestly.
Criticism isn’t the same as opposition.
Holding elected officials accountable isn’t the same as rooting against them.
In fact, I’d argue the opposite is true. Communities improve when people can disagree respectfully while recognizing they’re ultimately working toward the same goal. We all want East Brunswick to succeed. We may have different ideas about how to get there, but I don’t believe that makes anyone an enemy.
When the mayor said it didn’t feel like we were on his side, I couldn’t help but think that perhaps it reflected the same communication gap that surfaced throughout the meeting. We believed we were supporting the community by asking questions and encouraging discussion. Perhaps he saw those same actions differently. Whether that’s true or not, it’s worth thinking about because it highlights how easily intentions can be misunderstood when communication breaks down.
Final Thoughts
Walking out of Town Hall, I didn’t think the meeting was a failure. If anything, I thought it came surprisingly close to being one of Mayor Cohen’s strongest public appearances.
He clearly understands the issues facing East Brunswick. His explanations about redevelopment, affordable housing, municipal finance, and other complex topics demonstrated that. There were several moments where I found myself agreeing with his reasoning, even if I understood why others might not. That’s what makes this article difficult to write, because the biggest takeaway should have been the information he shared.
Unfortunately, I think it was the way some of that information was delivered.
People rarely remember every statistic or every chart shown during a presentation. They remember conversations. They remember whether they felt respected. They remember whether they felt heard. Those impressions often last much longer than the details of any policy discussion.
Mayor Cohen has shown before that he can be an exceptionally effective communicator. I have no doubt that version of Brad Cohen is still there, and I hope future Town Halls reflect more of that approach.
As I said at the beginning, this article is a combination of facts, opinions, and clearly identified speculation. I encourage everyone to watch the Town Hall themselves and reach their own conclusions. You may agree with me. You may think I’m completely off base. That’s the beauty of public discourse.
What I hope everyone can agree on is this: Town Halls matter. They give residents an opportunity to ask questions directly, hear answers firsthand, and participate in the future of the community they call home. I hope the Township continues holding them, I hope more residents attend, and I hope the conversations become even more productive.
Because at the end of the day, everyone in that room wants the same thing.
A stronger East Brunswick.
