Helping boost Lift Orlando's success, Eddy Moratin is Central Floridian of the Year

Every year, as we sort through dozens of community nominations for Central Floridian of the Year, we're looking for something very specific. Almost all of the people nominated are worthy of the honor. But some stand out, not just because they are the right person - but because they are the right person at the right time.

That's what makes the success of Lift Orlando, and the personal involvement of co-founder and president Eddy Moratin, such a timely narrative - and why we are naming him our Central Floridian of the Year.

The organization, created to boost the historic neighborhoods surrounding Orlando’s Camping World Stadium, has improved access to healthcare, education and economic opportunity in an area that many were ready to write off. Lift Orlando's success is so remarkable because it is custom-built for the communities it contains. Across Florida, state lawmakers have been gradually forcing a one-size-fits-all approach onto cities and counties that has one consistent goal: Making things easier for developers that want to swoop in, reshape the local landscape into something that can be profitably sold, and move on. In recent years, the Legislature has passed numerous laws that pave the way - by making it harder for local governments to say no.

That approach would be devastating to the traditionally African-American communities that surround Camping World Stadium, including West Lakes, Washington Shores, Lake Mann and Johnson Village. When these neighborhoods were first developed, they were on the outskirts of town - but still offered Orlando's Black residents a shot at the American dream of homeownership and life in a stable, thriving community. Over the decades, that narrative shifted. Crime rates climbed along with poverty. Many homes were falling into disrepair and local streets and schools were often deprived of a fair share of city and county funding.

The problems became even more acute as the stadium's prominence grew. On March 31, city leaders announced that Camping World will play temporary home to the NFL’s Jacksonville Jaguars in the 2027 season. It's also been the venue for major events, including the Electric Daisy Carnival and concerts by global superstars like Shakira and the world's top-grossing K-Pop band Stray Kids. But it's set in an area that many outsiders view as unsafe and deteriorating.

It would be easy to bring in the bulldozers, replacing 80-year-old homes, community schools, neighborhood stores and numerous churches with glossy, glass-walled condo towers and trendy eateries. But Lift Orlando has taken a different approach, one that keeps the power in the hands of the people who have lived here for generations. The plan includes targeted efforts to build entrepreneurship; the development (or improvement) of mixed-income, affordable housing and community-building steps that incorporate health care, child care and entertainment options into the community's existing framework. And as the Sentinel's Steven Walker detailed in a profile of Moratin, it's succeeding - entirely because it fosters solutions created in conjunction with community members, empowering them to keep control of their own narrative instead of watching their historic neighborhoods bought up and torn down bit by bit.

Moratin's own story is a template for hope. The 52-year-old helped found Lift Orlando more than a decade ago, arriving with a non-traditional resume and a background that included time spent on the staff of Orlando Mayor Buddy Dyer. He was greeted with immediate suspicion. But as Lift Orlando's success grows, so has trust - and the potential for even greater success.

"Eddy has had to use a lot of different skills," Dyer says. "Coordinating with the neighborhood has been critically important, making people part of the decision making process."

Florida legislators should be paying attention - and looking for ways to replicate Moratin's success in other communities.

Our other finalists reflect a wide variety of leaders who found ways to grab hold of seize-the-moment opportunities. They include:

Trina Gregory, who won national attention with her heartfelt, colorful response after the state Department of Transportation sent workers in the middle of the night to paint over the rainbow crosswalk outside of the Pulse nightclub. The erasure felt like a dagger to the heart of many Central Floridians, familiar with the story of emergency workers carrying critically wounded people to waiting ambulances on the night of one of the worst acts of domestic terrorism in this nation's history. Gregory, who owns the popular Mills 50 restaurant Se7enBites, responded with creativity, inviting artists to decorate spots in her own parking lot - a place where the state's cruel vandalism could not reach.

"We're not called The City Beautiful for nothing. We are a city that is full of art and color," Gregory told the Sentinel's Amy Drew Thompson. The pavement paintings, which take up 49 spaces, representing the 49 people killed during the Pulse shooting, are still boldly decorated - a vibrant testimony to Gregory's determination to bring joy back to a city's broken heart.

Deborah Beidel, who heads an organization - UCF Restores - that has had remarkable success in healing minds shattered by trauma. The program isn't tailored to any specific group, but as tensions between police and civilians rise in American communities, UCF Restores has become a critical nationwide resource for first responders caught in the crossfire of public opinion and horrific acts such as mass shootings, which become more frequent every year.

UCF Restores works in ways that surprise many. For decades, post-traumatic stress disorder has been regarded as an intractable condition that can take years of hard work to heal. But Beidel and her team have developed a different approach based on an intensive, two- or three-week residential treatment program. Almost everyone who completes the program shows significant improvement, something that's being thoroughly documented by researchers. The results are already inspiring further research. But more important, UCF Restores is giving back hope to people who thought they'd never mute the insistent echoes of trauma.

Justin Muchoney, who has turned a vibrant arts organization into something even more meaningful. At the heart of Central Florida Community Arts lies a resolve that stages are really villages where everyone has a place - regardless of talent level and experience. But the group is doing something even more important, creating a beacon of warmth for a society facing a growing epidemic of loneliness and isolation. In a post-COVID era, nearly half of all Americans say they suffer at times from a lack of human connection.

Drawn to Orlando by a winning shot at a Disney job, he brought a background in community arts programs. That experience proved invaluable when Muchoney took over the leadership of the organization in July 2024, tasked with getting the nearly bankrupt group back on track. He's done so much more: Under his leadership, CFCA has taken "community" to a whole new level - with more than a thousand or more participants, and performing units that cater specifically to seniors and people with disorders like autism alongside a 320-person choir and 400–plus person orchestra. Along the way, he's focused every decision on a strategy that's intended to draw people in, helping them find connections in an increasingly isolated world.

Joel Hunter and Alan Ginsburg joined forces nearly three years ago in a search for a way to reconcile a world torn with incivility. Hunter, the former pastor of a Longwood megachurch and spiritual adviser to President Barack Obama, and Ginsburg, were troubled by the way angry words were weaponized in a fight for political and economic supremacy. They came up with an idea that is startling in its simplicity, but broadly effective: Ask individuals across Central Florida to promise that they will do better. The Central Florida Pledge affirms that the desire to treat all people with respect and dignity, and combat signs of bigotry, including religious bias, homophobia and racism.

It's a simple concept, with an impact that's nearly impossible to measure. But the numbers show it's struck a chord: So far, more than 5,000 individuals have signed. Major organizations, including UCF, have adapted the Pledge into their own governing documents. Hunter and Ginsburg are rightfully proud of the increasing interest among young people, and the inquiries from other communities wanting to start similar programs. In an increasingly divided world, where bullets and bombs too often follow angry words, this is one wellspring of hope that things can get better - if enough people promise to try.

Go to OrlandoSentinel.com/cfoty to read more about our finalists and previous honorees.

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This story was originally published April 12, 2026 at 6:08 AM.