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Heidi Little

By Asha Timperley

We’ll be honest, it’s hard to know where to start with Heidi Little’s story.

We could start with the fact that she’s the child of an Air Force doctor, and served her own 11-year stint in the Air Force.

Or we could mention that fact that she had a long stretch of time when she was confused and somewhat disillusioned about what to do…so she delivered Domino’s pizza.

And then there’s the part where she got her nursing degree and worked the weekend shift as a critical care nurse for nine years.

But, the latest part of Heidi’s story is about her relationship with Everett Elementary School.

It was Friday afternoon and kids in coats spilled out of Everett Elementary School, celebrating the joy of another weekend. Heidi walked up the cement steps to the school holding boxes of goodies that fulfilled a few of the teachers’ wish lists.

For the past few years, Heidi has asked all the teachers to send her a short list of things they’d like for their classroom. Some write down items like headphones or a pencil machine, others want incentives like cereal and peanut butter. It’s a small thing, but to the teachers and kids, it’s a big deal.

She gets stopped in the hallways by teachers who are curious about what she has and who she’s delivering it to – playdough for the kindergarteners and sentence strips for the fifth graders. A number of people also stop and ask her about an event or project that she has in the works and her go-to response is some derivative of, “Yes! I’m excited about that!” or “No, I haven’t forgotten, but I’m working on it.”

Everyone at Everett knows Heidi.

But that wasn’t always the case. When her oldest son, Jesse, was ready to start school, Heidi and her husband sent him to a school across town instead of Everett, their neighboring school.

She was protective of Jesse and wanted to make sure he was at an academically strong school, a reputation Everett didn’t have. But by winter break, she was questioning her decision and it prompted a trip to Everett. Heidi wandered the halls and was given an impromptu tour. At the end, she knew Jesse needed to be at Everett.

As we walked around the school and Heidi doled out her gifts, she kept talking about what a good school Everett is and how she’s proud it’s where her kids go. She loves the caring teachers and attentive administrators who give everything to their students, oftentimes giving out of their own pockets, a pattern Heidi noticed.

Everett severely lacks parental involvement and the PTO-type funding that often pays for field trips and classroom ‘extras’ that other schools typically enjoy. Heidi found herself funneling any extra money or fundraising opportunity she had to Everett, and then thought, ‘Why not start a nonprofit?’ So in 2012 Heidi created the Everett Community Nonprofit Organization.

Heidi is one of Everett’s biggest champions, hosting superhero fun runs, gong shows, publishing a goofy calendar with her coworkers from Bryan Health and all sorts of events to get the community involved. She name drops the nonprofit to anyone she meets, joking that people duck when they see her because they know she’ll ask them for money.

All of the money raised has gone to send Everett students on field trips and buy items like new dictionaries, calculators and tissues – a long list of seemingly little things that make a school more than just a building with classrooms.

Last year, Roland Temme, owner of the neighboring business TMCO, wrote a $20,000 check to build Everett a walking track. It was a surprise neither Heidi or the school imagined, and it came at a time when Heidi was losing momentum.

It’s hard not to get discouraged when what you hoped or dreamed isn’t the reality, she said, but getting that big check from Mr. Temme and the continual support of her friends and family has kept Heidi focused on doing more for Everett.

These days, she’s dreaming of green grass and a shiny new playground for the school. Her youngest child is just a year away from going to middle school, but that doesn’t matter. Heidi said she’ll probably always be involved at Everett. It’s blocks from her house, it’s where her kids learned and it’s part of her story.

What we love about Heidi’s story is that it wasn’t planned. She didn’t set out to start a nonprofit. Heidi delivered pizza, worked weekends, took care of her kids and when she found out about Everett she did something.

Her story is about stepping up and stepping in to her community, because that matters.

January 13, 2016

Love3

Pastor Tom Barber

By Asha Timperley

In 1969 he was chosen to travel and sing at venues around the world with a popular group called Up with People.

In 1975 he graduated from Pepperdine University on a full-ride scholarship.

In 1978 he received his MBA from Pepperdine.

In 1990 he managed a Kentucky-based company where he was making six figures and drove a Saab convertible.

“Now, I’m here,” said Pastor Tom Barber, CEO at the People’s City Mission.

Wait, what?

Pastor Tom casually plotted out his career history like he was reading off his resume. He’s straightforward like that, and not one to get caught up in the could-haves or would-haves of his past.

Tom laid out his career so plainly that I had to stop him and circle back to why and how he transitioned from big-time businessman to city mission visionary, and that’s where the story got interesting.

After graduating from college, Tom planned to work in full-time ministry, but thought he’d try his hand at the business world first. To his surprise, he was extremely successful. He quickly latched on to the principles and skills he needed to lead people and happily worked his way up a corporate ladder he never imagined himself climbing.

He was wealthy. His kids went to private school, he and his wife owned expensive cars and a lavish house – he was providing for his family and then some.

But in 1992 something just felt off.

Tom said it’s hard to explain, but he knew God was nudging him toward ministry again, and his wife felt the same way. So, they talked to their pastor. He told them about a job opening at Christ’s Place Church in Lincoln, Nebraska.

After an interview that went better than he expected and a surprisingly generous offer was made on their beautiful home, Tom said he knew it was time to move to Nebraska.

For the next decade or so, Tom worked at Christ’s Place Church, started a college ministry and worked as a marketing professor… and then he heard about the job opening at the People’s City Mission.

At the time it was a small mission housing 80 people and helping about two to three thousand people in the city each year. Tom looked at the Mission and saw lots of potential.

Today the Mission has 210 beds, a separate veterans program, the third largest free medical clinic in the U.S. and in 2015 they served 33,000 people in Lincoln.

Wait, what?

Tom rattled off these facts much like his career history, boiling the difference down to his business-like approach to running the Mission. He played to his strengths and it’s working.

From recycling programs, giving away donated goods and connecting donors with the homeless, it’s all been an intentional way to serve better and serve more people in the process.

We’ll be honest, Tom is proud of that shift in statistics over the past 12 years, but he attributes it to more than just his presence at the Mission.

“People say ‘Aren’t you unbelievable!’ and I say no, it’s what God wanted me to do,” he said. “I think people think more highly of me than they ought to, but God’s hand is on us and I’m just using business truths to run this place.”

For Tom, getting to this point was about timing. He waited, he went and he stayed where he knew God wanted him to be.

He was hippie Tommy in college, Mr. Barber in the corporate world and now Pastor Tom at the Mission – all titles that built on each other in a way that he never could have mapped out himself.

It wasn’t easy, he admitted that much. Leaving a certain lifestyle, moving to a place that was far from friends and family, trying to understand poverty in a new city, but looking back, it’s almost comical to see the way each element of his story fits into a larger story, he said.

Tom’s story is about being where God wanted him to be, about obeying and using his skills for the task at hand.

Many times his story didn’t make sense, to him or those who looked on with skepticism. But it was about becoming Pastor Tom, and Tom loves being Pastor Tom.

January 6, 2016

Love5

Mike Smith

By Asha Timperley

Mike Smith is a big name in the skateboarding community, just look at his social media stats: 32k+ Facebook likes, 62k+ Twitter followers and 100k+ Instagram followers.

At 26 he started a Lincoln-based nonprofit, The BAY, and the internationally recognized movement Skate for Change.

Mike’s website touts him as a professional speaker, consultant and brand ambassador, having worked with brands like Puma, Red Bull, Ethika and Toyota.

At one point during our interview I told Mike it felt like I was talking to a celebrity. Not because he acted like it, not because he wanted to be one, but because Mike Smith has connections. He knows so and so at MTV and ABCFamily, and what’s his face in LA and New York.

I could tell that my celebrity comment made him feel a little weird, because Mike still sees himself as a skateboarding wannabe watching FUEL TV at his parents house in Imperial, Nebraska.

But Mike’s story isn’t about a small town kid making it big.

Mike’s story is about connections. He tells his story to thousands of high schoolers to connect with them, but also to bring awareness and passion to the movements that are close to his heart.

Lincoln’s The BAY is one of those places.

Mike started The BAY back in 2011 as a way to combine his passion for skateboarding with youth outreach. He took a run-down space in Gateway Mall, added some skate ramps and things were up and running.

A short while later, The BAY outgrew the space and moved to 22nd and Y streets, just northeast of UNL’s campus. Kids were eager for a place to skate or just hang out, and that’s what The BAY gave them, but this was never all that Mike envisioned.

The easy part was finding a place and a way to interact with kids, Mike said. The hard part was everything else.

Bills. Staff. Rules. Growth. Plus the fact that Mike was a 26-year-old who started a nonprofit in the middle of a recession.

Mike saw the ugly side of the nonprofit world. He was disappointed by passionate people who lost their fire after not seeing the progress they hoped for within a few months. And he made his own mistakes, lots of them. He couldn’t pay his employees or always keep the lights on at The BAY, but those hurdles didn’t hold up the process.

When Mike realized The BAY had $5 in its bank account, he went and lived homeless under a bridge in Lincoln for a month and then skateboarded across Nebraska to spread the word. He started speaking on a national scale to funnel funds back to The BAY. When his list of reliable employees got short he sought out specific people to propel his vision.

And so far, it’s worked.

“We fell in love with the bad stories,” he said. “We didn’t do this for the good stories. We did this for all the stories.”

Sustainable change isn’t about how you feel from one day to the next, he explained, it’s about consistency in the midst of complicated situations.

And making The BAY more than just a cool place to skate is complicated.

This year, The BAY served more than 100,000 meals, gave away socks and hygiene kits to the homeless and helped kids get out of juvenile detention centers. Skateboarding is a catalyst for some of the best stuff The BAY does, Mike said, and that’s the way he wants to keep it.

Mike has big dreams for The BAY. He wants it to include job training, legal aid, artist spaces and small business, and Mike wants Lincoln’s location to be the first of many across the country.

To make this happen, Mike has to spend the majority of his time away from The BAY. He travels and speaks for 80 percent of the year to raise awareness and make more connections to bring his dreams to life.

Mike said he often lays in bed at night and scrolls through social media, looking at pictures from The BAY or kids getting involved with their local Skate for Change chapters. Most of the time, he’s in awe of how something that started on the streets of Lincoln ballooned into something that thousands of people are getting behind.

Mike is adamant about the fact he could never have done this on his own. While his name can stand alone, what he does can’t.

Whether he’s speaking, representing a brand, dreaming about The BAY or promoting Skate for Change, his work has always been about building a community, not changing what already existed.

And he’s done that, but he’s not done yet.

December 30, 2015

Love7

Bryan Clark

By Asha Timperley

“Would you mind sticking around and preaching until we find a real pastor?”

Bryan Clark was in no way offended by this question. As a young associate pastor working at a struggling church in Broken Bow, Nebraska, being the head pastor was not on his radar.

For him the word ‘pastor’ conjured up the image of a legalistic preacher wearing outdated clothing and driving a station wagon with panel siding.

But that was 33 years ago.

Now, Bryan Clark is going on 23 years as the head pastor of Lincoln’s largest church, Lincoln Berean. With about 4,500 people in the building on a typical weekend, Lincoln Berean attendees make up approximately 1 in 50 people in Lincoln.

For many people, the title ‘mega church pastor’ conjures up images of a flashy, power-suit wearing preacher driving a Cadillac with blacked out windows.

But that’s not Bryan Clark.

He seems more like a pastor at a church of a few hundred, not a few thousand people. Down-to-earth and approachable, Bryan’s distinctively low tone of voice was the same in our one-on-one conversation as during his Sunday sermons.

Don’t be fooled by his calm demeanor, Bryan carries a heavy load. With a church the size of Berean, his time is in short supply amidst the vast number of needs and decisions that require his attention.

It’s a 24/7 job that he likened to farming. It doesn’t have parameters on when the work is done, he said, but if you don’t embrace the lifestyle you won’t make it.

So, Bryan has embraced his calling. After being asking to step into a pastoral role back in Broken Bow, he quickly saw that preaching was what God created him to do, and he stayed at that church for 10 years before transitioning to Lincoln Berean.

What seemed most notable was that Bryan doesn’t seem overwhelmed by the weight of his job. He’s not a martyr for his church. Instead, he has learned his emotional and physical limitations, and trusts the input from other pastors and counselors.

So, while being the head pastor at Lincoln Berean is a major part of Bryan Clark, it’s not what defines his life. Yes, the Bryan Clark and Lincoln Berean Church stories reflect the other, but they’re not the same.

Bryan’s story involves struggling to understand pain and suffering, resting in an all-knowing God and consistently serving in the place and position where God led him.

He’s a mega church pastor, but he’s also a father, husband and hobbyist. His office shelves are lined with cowboy sculptures and antique machines that he took apart and rebuilt. He’s an introvert and a cowboy wannabe who trains horses, dabbles in welding and blacksmithing, learned to play the cello at age 50 and enjoys fishing in the small pond behind his house.

What we appreciate about Bryan is that he owns his story. He’s not trying to be someone else or chase the latest church trend. He’s not trying to make Lincoln Berean anything but itself. The church isn’t perfect, and he’d be the first one to tell you that, but it’s a place and a people he’s proud to lead.

We chose to feature Bryan Clark because his name and reputation are well-known around Lincoln, but more so because his story isn’t contrived. He’s a self-proclaimed plodder – he moves slowly and methodically. There’s not some special formula to what he does, but he does have a method to the way he lives his life.

Bryan believes everyone was created on purpose, for a purpose. So for him, his story matters because it’s rooted to God, a God who has asked him to play a part in the story that He has written.

And to Bryan Clark, that matters.

December 23, 2015

Love28

Michael Forsberg

By Asha Timperley

It was one of those moments that seemed worthy of a photo – the swaying prairie grasses, fresh outdoor smells and the visible breath as we chatted on that brisk Nebraska morning.

It all just fit. The hum of a distant train and nearby birds rising and falling in their own little dance.

Familiar, quiet, restful…this was his element.

Michael Forsberg spoke gently but deliberately about his work. He described how he grew up loving and exploring the outdoors, haphazardly fell into photography, trained himself to write because he needed to and somehow ended up being one of the most well-known nature and conservation photographers in the country.

But when Michael talks about his story, he seems a little surprised at how it all unfolded. A job he shouldn’t have been offered, a career he never dreamed of and a family he works to treasure.

He’s surprised, because this wasn’t in his original plan, but it somehow became his plan. His story, camera or no camera, is about appreciating and sharing his home state of Nebraska.

“A lot of folks consider this flyover country, but that’s not true,” he started. “It doesn’t knock your socks off at first glance, but it’s every bit as remarkable…You really have to linger.”

It’s about lingering. That’s what he does best.

As a nature photographer there is a lot of patient waiting that’s involved in the process. The light, setting, creatures and even the elements are all part of making each photo say something.

Michael doesn’t take pictures, he makes them. It’s like a puzzle, everything has its place. He lingers over moments, waiting for the exact one he’s been anticipating for hours or days. Then, he captures it.

Michael’s job is to witness some of Nebraska’s rawest and most striking natural moments – migrating Sandhill cranes, stunning prairie sunsets and rolling ranch lands.

But what he’s seen as he’s grown older, and experienced more as a man, husband and father, is that his lingering isn’t just for the sake of lingering.

Sure, it’s the adventure-seeking job he dreamed of, but there’s more to it than simply capturing breathtaking moments.

Michael loves Nebraska and the Great Plains because he’s spent time taking them in, making them his own and soaking up their subtle glory. Now, he said, it’s about stepping out from behind the camera to share what he knows and sees.

So, he writes books and speaks to children and adults. He teaches classes and pursues new ways to explore and learn about his home state and its surrounding natural habitats.

It’s a terrifying new element of his work, he said. But again, when he focuses on sharing with people instead of pleasing, it taps into why he’s so immersed in this work.

It’s about sharing.

“We each have a story to tell and we’re writing that story our entire lives,” he said.

Michael loves the way he can capture powerful moments with his camera to help tell his story, but he also knows that he can’t capture every story or moment with a picture.

He rarely features people in his photos, because it’s not his focus, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t part of his work.

When thinking back to some of his favorite projects he’s surprised that no specific image comes to mind, it’s just faces, he said. He remembers the people who let him sit at their dinner table, explore their family-owned ranch and those who make up his personal story.

He’s thankful his parents encouraged him to play outdoors until it was dark. He’s thankful his family has understood and supported his work over the years. And he’s thankful for a community that sees his work as more than just pretty pictures.

It’s been about people in an understated but profound way.

People have honored him by sharing their stories, and Michael Forsberg’s work is his way of returning the favor.

December 16, 2015

Love2

Jennifer Rosenblatt

By Asha Timperley

Kurt Knecht turned his chair toward Jennifer Rosenblatt to ask her a question. She leaned over and explained a few things and then two of them went back to their respective work. This is what running two startups with a spouse looks like, said Jenn with a smile.

She and her husband are Florida natives who joke about the fact that they’ve “survived” ten winters in Nebraska. But this Nebraska chapter of Jenn’s story is about way more than surviving the winters, it’s where she started connecting the dots.

After raising two kids and working nearly ten different jobs, Jenn is now the CEO of two Lincoln-based startups. Yes, two.

One side of her office space is home to Argyle Octopus, a print and graphic design company that started in 2011. The other side is MusicSpoke, a marketplace for composers to promote and sell their music.

You might think it’s a little wild to have two startups in one place, run by the same person, but it’s not that strange for Jenn.

Remember when we said she had a lot of jobs? Jenn said she always thought there was something wrong with her because she didn’t stick with one job, or even one industry for more than a few years.

She said it took having an “entrepreneurial seizure” to see that she wasn’t doing anything wrong, she just needed space to let her ideas grow. So when Jenn started Argyle Octopus she slowly began to connect the dots.

When she hired an intern and added employees it all felt even more real. She realized that it wasn’t about having a job, it was about doing work that felt like herself.

It was bold, exciting, fun and serious, but not too serious. She had people tell her that naming a company Argyle Octopus was ridiculous, and it probably was, she said, but now it’s just fun and memorable.

A few years later she and her husband came up with the idea for MusicSpoke and wasted no time getting the new venture up and rolling.

Jenn is proud she started two companies and has become a well-known figure in the startup community, but it’s been far from easy.

Some might confuse her bright lipstick and bubbly personality for total confidence, but Jenn said there were and still are many days when she wants to give up. Being an entrepreneur isn’t glamorous.

Sure, there’s a sense of gritty independence that comes from setting your own schedule and pursuing a problem you’re passionate about, but it’s also hard.

The fear of missed deadlines and disappointed clients is work that feels all too personal. There are complex employee relationships and realizing that your close friends don’t want to always talk about startup-ish topics. And then there’s the night you eat at Taco Bell because it’s a cheap meal and you’d rather put money into your company than dinner.

So why do it? And why do it twice?

It’s kind of like childbirth, Jenn said. If you think about it too much you wouldn’t do it because it’s painful, but the other side of it is awesome.

It’s also about context and perspective. The first few years of a startup are incredibly challenging and time-consuming, but it’s a season, and at some point the crazy ends, she said. Unless you start something else, which is always a possibility for Jenn.

But for now, she’s pretty content with the way her story is unfolding. She’s no longer the newbie in the startup space. Now she’s the one people ask to speak on panels, to students and at events, and Jenn gladly accepts.

She no longer feels like she’s doing something wrong or weird in a job that she hates. Now, she’s just Jenn – a local entrepreneur and community cheerleader – and it feels just right.

December 8, 2015

Love1

Bryan Seck

By Asha Timperley

When we got to the end of the interview, Bryan Seck said it felt a little strange being asked questions instead of asking them. He’s usually the one listening, so it was nice to be heard for a change, he said.

No, he’s not some kind of reporter or therapist.

Bryan Seck is the Lincoln Public Schools Homeless Outreach Specialist. A job where he meets with homeless families and connects them with the resources they need.

It’s a job which is anything but black and white. It’s busy and littered with messy situations, complicated agencies and a whole lot of chaos. But here’s the thing – Bryan isn’t a stressful person. He’s calm, relaxed, systematic and intentional.

Even though he’s only lived in Lincoln a little over two years, he has a better working knowledge of the community resources than most Lincoln natives.

Don’t mistake his cool head for apathy though, it’s actually the opposite. On any given day, Bryan is sitting down with a family to hear their story, picking up food and clothing, working out of his car or advocating for a child over the phone.

He knows how to change his tone when talking with a domestic violence victim to help them find stability, and is on a first-name basis with people at nearly every area agency to advocate for each family he meets. Bryan can be a quiet listener, or a fierce fighter to make the needs and voices of the homeless heard.

But in reality, he can only guarantee three things: kids are enrolled in school, have transportation to school and receive free and reduced lunch. Those are what he can provide for every homeless family in Lincoln.

Then, there’s the long list of people and circumstances that are 100 percent out of his control.

He can’t personally make sure people stay on the straight and narrow. He can’t physically turn in a job or housing application. He can’t emotionally manage the sad situations he sees each day.

But he can follow-up with people to check-in and give them a push. He can ask good questions, hear their stories and give them the names of people who can help. He can and has built strong partnerships with local shelters, food banks and faith-based organizations.

At the end of the day, Bryan has to let go. Not throw in the towel, but trust that he did everything in his power to help.

This has been hard for him to learn, and harder still to put into practice. Seeing and hearing so many stories can feel heavy. Which is why he plays soccer a few times a week, processes his day with his wife and rests in the fact that he doesn’t do his work alone.

He collaborates with schools, counselors, social workers, psychologists and administrators who funnel needs and people to him. Without these people, he wouldn’t know who to help.

Bryan serves on half a dozen local boards – including the Lincoln Homeless Coalition – because he knows that transferring the knowledge and information he takes in every day to a room of problem-solving people can help him and the people he serves.

He’s one of many people in LPS and the city who hear the stories of the homeless community.

Yes, he has a big job, but he’s not alone.

If Bryan can get the small, quiet voices of the homeless heard then he’s done his job well, because being heard matters.

December 2, 2015

Love1

Amy Green

By Asha Timperley

Amy Green pulled a few hefty boxes out of her storage room in the basement of The Creamery Building and carried them out to the front of her shop. Inside the boxes were guestbooks with 15 years worth of customer comments, drawings and Ivanna Cone love notes.

To Amy, this is the feedback that matters most.

Sure, she’s the brainpower behind Lincoln’s most popular local ice cream shop, but she’d rather stay behind the scenes. She was a little skittish to talk about any specific, personal details, because to Amy Ivanna Cone isn’t about her, it’s about family.

It’s Amy, her team and the customers. These people make the shop tick, whether they’ve been in once or hundreds of times since it opened 18 years ago.

Back then the Haymarket’s dominant landmarks were Lazlo’s, The Burkholder Project and The Oven – and parking was a whole lot easier, she said.

Amy is all about family, because that’s how Ivanna Cone started. Her parents helped her buy the shop and she quickly found herself in the role of full-time mom and business woman.

But from the get go Amy was all in.

She had two young kids – Grace and Tom – and a brain full of ice cream recipes, so the ice cream had to sell itself, she said.

On the weekends her parents would drive down from Fremont to watch the kids or pass out $1 scoops at the farmers market.

During the week Amy worked with the kids at her feet. She made the shop kid-friendly by creating a toy corner and installing a johnny jump up in the kitchen.

Amy has made batch upon batch of oddball flavor combinations and she estimated about 10-12 thousand batches of the all-time fan favorite Dutch Chocolate.

A little obsessive, right?

But that’s the thing about owning a business, you can’t turn it off.

Amy said she’s had to teach herself to let others help out and to schedule time to relax outside of the shop. These days her nearly grown kids man the counter on a pretty frequent basis, and Grace said she hopes to someday run the shop when her mom is ready to throw in the towel.

But that won’t be anytime soon, Amy quickly interjected. She pointed to her arm to show off the 18 scoops of ice cream that snake their way up and around her arm – one for every year the shop is open – and there’s still more space, she said.

Here’s the deal: Ivanna Cone is Ivanna Cone because Amy Green is Amy Green.

From the on-purpose whimsical flavors to the layout and design of the shop, it’s all Amy.

She’s a woman who loves challenges and writing paychecks, but hates paperwork. She loves throwing money at bizarre ice cream ideas, and will never franchise her shop or lose her dark sense of humor.

And while Amy is a little shy about standing in the spotlight, her much beloved ice cream shop is beloved because of her, and that’s the real story.

November 25, 2015

Love1

Steve Kiene

By Asha Timperley

Simple, but complex. It’s a weird combination, said Steve Kiene, but it’s him. Jeans and a tshirt simple, and software nerd complex.

If you saw Steve around town, you might confuse him for another one of the tech geeks grabbing coffee before hunkering down in their office for the day. Which might be accurate in some sense, but also a gross understatement.

If you know anything about Steve’s story, then you know that well before he was the Managing Principal of Nebraska Global he was well-known in the realm of Mac software. He’s even had some pretty hardcore groupies/stalkers, no joke. But let’s back up a little.

At 11 he flunked out of summer school because he discovered “the drug” that was computer programming.

At 17 he skipped classes to hang out with programmers and turned down going to MIT because all he wanted to do was program.

And at 19 he had a job offer from Apple that he turned down.

But Steve doesn’t care about his reputation. In fact, he can be a bit of a polarizing figure in the community because he has some pretty definite opinions. His real mission, like him, is simple but complex.

Steve doesn’t want to build companies, he wants to build people.

Heard that before? Yeah, so have we. But Steve puts his money where his mouth is.

Back in 2006 he had a decision to make – keep pushing his two companies forward or sell. He sold. And while Steve said at times he questions his decision to sell MindVision and eSellerate, he never regrets what he did with the $25 million he got from the sale.

He gave half of the money to the employees who helped him build the two companies, and donated and invested much of other half in the community. For him, splitting the money with the people who had invested time and effort in his companies meant they should share in the sale, and the sheer fact that he was the sole proprietor didn’t matter.

Steve makes up his own rules, much like his dad.

As a kid, Steve would go to work with his dad who owned a heating and air conditioning business. He watched him repair systems and write up bills, oftentimes only charging people for the cost of the materials.

His dad didn’t explain why he did it, he just did what he thought was honest and right, and Steve noticed.

That’s how Steve feels about building the community by building people – he wants to do what he thinks is right and helpful, that’s it.

And he’s in it for the long, long haul.

Earlier this year, Steve and his wife became parents again. He clicked his phone on and showed me his home screen – a photo of his happy, pudgy little boy.

“This is what matters,” he said, pointing to the screen.

Steve said being a parent makes him feel like a pseudo-parent to the people he works with everyday. He feels invested in their well being, and pushes them to create things that matter, not just to fit some entrepreneurial stereotype.

Steve isn’t about smoke and mirrors. He isn’t about spinning his story to make people like him.

He’s just a guy with long hair and glasses, who cares about doing what’s right for the community both now and in the future.

Because to Steve, people matter.

November 18, 2015

Love5

Joe Horacek

By Asha Timperley

When Joe Horacek sees someone wearing one of his hand-printed shirts he oftentimes just smiles and nods. If the opportunity presents itself he might ask about the shirt to see what the wearer says, but he’s not fishing for a certain response.

He’d rather lay low, make his art and share it with others, that’s really what his story is about – sharing art.

The soulful melody of Louis Armstrong plays in the background of the little house turned print shop. Tucked between a few other local storefronts on the corner of 33rd and A streets, Little Mountain Print Shoppe is Joe’s own little cabin on the mountain. It’s where his sketches and designs make their debut in the form of shirts and sweatshirts.

Joe is humble and soft-spoken about his shop. One day he’s printing shirts for Sanborn Canoe Company in Minnesota, the next he’s working on a custom local order or doing the bills, but in some ways screen printing is just a front.

For Joe, having a shop allows him to continue to create and design while having a tangible way to see his art come to life.

He opened Little Mountain back in 2011 after working at a screen printing shop in Iowa where he sat behind a desk every day. It exhausted him without ever tapping into his artistic roots, so he knew Little Mountain had to be different.

After buying his first screen printing press there was a lot of trial-and-error work. It was often one step forward and two-steps back during that first year, but it’s how he honed his craft. Joe said he also spent a lot of time learning and researching the best materials for making his screens and ink. Even the angle, speed and pressure he applies to his squeegee is an intentional part of his printing.

But all of those pieces circle back to Joe’s desire to simply create art that matters. He draws inspiration from nature, viewing it as one big garden from which he can create. He loves mountains, because they’re part of nature, but also part of his name.

In Czech, Horacek translates to ‘little mountain’ and Joe said when he learned that he knew it needed to be the name for his shop. It’s his way of paying homage to his family roots – his artistic father who helped him build the racks where his shirts are displayed, his accountant mother who taught him the finer points of QuickBooks and his brother and sister who support his business by simply wearing his designs.

Little Mountain is bigger than just Joe. It’s bigger than screen printing, and that’s the way Joe wants to keep it.

November 11, 2015

Love1

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