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Brooke Mullen

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“I love your necklace!”

It’s a phrase that Brooke Mullen hears a lot, and it’s not just about her necklaces. It’s her purses, scarves, rings, bracelets – basically all of her accessories.

Brooke has great style, but she also knows where all of her accessories were made. She knows the names of the artisans, where they live and how they learned their craft.

She knows all of this because Brooke owns Sapahn (pronounced “s-uh-pawn”), a fair-trade and ethically sourced accessory shop that she runs from Lincoln and Thailand.

She and her husband, Matt, have lived in Thailand for the past eight years and Brooke spends about three months in Nebraska every year to visit family and host Sapahn trunk shows.

It seems like a rather odd career choice for someone who spent most of her growing up years in Lincoln, Nebraska, and yet, Brooke said she’s not at all surprised by the kind of work she’s doing.

It’s adventurous and exciting, risky and stressful and it’s 100 percent Brooke.

But Sapahn is not why Brooke and Matt went to Thailand in the first place. Their main goal was to learn.

Matt worked toward his Master’s degree in Human Rights and Brooke worked with local nonprofits. Eventually Brooke also got her Master’s degree and Matt moved on to a PhD, but in the process, Brooke noticed something about Thailand.

The Thai people are exquisite craftsmen. Brooke spent lots of time visiting busy markets, talking with the men and women who made made blankets, scarves and jewelry and then she’d ask them where she could see these items being made.

“In our village,” they’d say.

Much to their surprise, Brooke would eagerly ask them to take her there.

“But it’s 12 hours away,” they’d protest.

“That’s ok,” she’d say. “When can I come with you?”

Brooke had a lot of conversations like this at the market, and they were followed up with long, hot bus rides to small Thai villages.

That’s really where Sapahn started, with Brooke watching in awe as a local artisan intricately created a one-of-a-kind item using a method passed down from generation to generation.

But it was also a little sad, Brooke said. So many of these talented artists couldn’t afford to take their goods to sell at the larger markets in big cities. Brooke was determined to find a better way for these people to display and sell their creations.

Around the same time, Matt and Brooke met Marie Tu. She was a bright, happy girl who worked and took care of her family. She had some education but knew that she needed more to properly provide for her family.

Matt and Brooke offered to help her earn some extra money to put toward her tuition.

Brooke packed up a few suitcases full of purses, scarves and jewelry on their trip back to the United States and hosted a small trunk show, with all the proceeds going toward Marie’s tuition money. She called her trunk sale ‘Sapahn,’ the Thai word for bridge, because she was bridging a gap between people, cultures and communities. She sold out in one night.

They raised $1,000 on that first trip, and much more over the next few years for Marie’s tuition.

But all of this got Brooke thinking – if people loved the items she was bringing back to the States, maybe there was a way to help these Thai artisans and provide people with high-quality goods.

And that’s how Sapahn turned into a business. What started out as a way to earn scholarship money, morphed into a model that now provides 10 Thai communities – involving 500 artists –with a fair return on their handmade goods.

This is what she’s spent the last six years doing, growing Sapahn between Lincoln and Thailand.

In Thailand, Brooke spends time with each of the artisans, collaborating on new designs that she launches every year. She looks for inspiration at local markets, picks out fabrics and plans for the upcoming season.

Back in the U.S., things slow down a little bit. Brooke hosts trunk shows, meets with fellow entrepreneurs and spends a lot of time dreaming about how she wants Sapahn to grow.

It’s all been very organic, but also intentional, Brooke said.

The growth of Sapahn has been slow but steady, and people are really connecting with her mission. And for Brooke, that’s the best part.

She’s not just selling pretty accessories and she’s not just running a business, Sapahn is about exposure. It’s about giving local artists a chance to be heard, a chance to tell their story and a chance for others to get involved.

Brooke loves it when people ask about her jewelry, scarves or purses. It’s an open door to sharing about the people who are behind the items that she wears every day, but it’s also a window into Brooke’s own story.

Brooke has made the story of others her story. She’s leveraged her curiosity and passion in a way that helps others, and she’s asking her customers to do the same.

Tamara Kaye

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Tamara Kaye runs her business out of her garage, but it’s no ordinary garage.

The floors are white with bright-colored splatter paint, the shelves are lined with bins full of feathers and googly eyes and rainbow-colored storage closets line the back wall.

Tamara actually doesn’t call the space her garage, she calls it Art Planet.

It’s a place she dreamed up five years ago, and offers art classes, events and activities geared toward encouraging imagination and growth for everyone who participates.

But it’s not just a place for kids. Tamara created Art Planet just as much for adults as for kids, and it really started as a way to rebuild her own life.

In 2011, Tamara felt stuck. She had a Fine Arts degree and a Master’s degree in special education, but her creativity had dried up and she didn’t feel like herself anymore.

Her mind was full of questions – What now? What’s next? Will I make it?

Tamara was navigating a painful divorce, homeschooling her three kids and trying to figure out a way to support herself.

She had a friend ask her if she’d ever thought of combining her two degrees to form a hybrid job, and that’s when Art Planet was born.

Tamara had always been a creative kid. She grew up doing art projects at a little table in the family room and her mom encouraged her to pursue art when she got to college.

But after college, life sped up. She had kids, life was busy and she started to question if doing art was even a good use of her time. Maybe she wasn’t an artist after all? Maybe it didn’t matter. Art is just for fun anyway, right?

Lies, lies lies.

Tamara knows those thoughts were lies because of the fact that when she’s creating art she feels free and uninhibited, she feels alive and like herself.

“Art is not an end unto itself,” Tamara said. “It’s not meant to just hang on the wall and look pretty, art touches the human spirit in a way that other things cannot.”

For Tamara, art has been a way to restore herself, but it’s also been about helping others do the same.

Over the years, Tamara has grown Art Planet into a space that hosts birthday parties, family events, after school art classes and even dates. She mentors young artists and hosts summer art camps.

Her business has grown, and she’s proud of what she’s cultivated – both for her family and her customers. But something was missing. After four years of building Art Planet, Tamara wanted to do more.

Sure, people were coming to Art Planet and it was great, but what about the people who couldn’t get to her garage?

So, Tamara started The ArtReach Project, a non-profit that works to integrate art into the community. It’s been less than a year since she’s started this project, but it’s already taking off in ways she never imagined.

Tamara explained that each ArtReach project looks different. So far she’s helped organize a traveling art installation of a 3D Van Gogh painting that’s toured LPS. She’s worked with City Impact to design and create a student-made mosaic art for their new building. She’s inspired shoppers at Gateway Mall to create ornaments by painting on wood slices while they were spinning on record players. She’s even set up at coffee shops asking people to make pinwheels for a student-led organization, Fork in the Road, at Lincoln High. Currently she’s collaborating with Lincoln Parks and Recreation to make a 200+ foot banner of drawings made by people playing in parks to celebrate Lincoln’s nationally recognized status as a ‘Playful City’.

Her goal is to get anyone she can involved in her latest project, despite their age and skill level.

Sometimes people timidly walk past her booth or shy away because they say they’re not ‘creative’ or ‘artistic’ enough.

Tamara can totally relate.

Her story is about questioning her creativity, and coming to the realization that everyone is created to be creative. She’s learned that art can simply be fun and expressive, it doesn’t need to be intimidating or overly complicated.

To say that art has been a major player in Tamara’s story would be an understatement. It’s given her courage, a career, joy, confidence and compassion.

Art is Tamara’s constant. It’s her way of reaching in and reaching out, it’s how she found her story again and it’s how she’s giving back to the community.

Pat Leach

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Some days, Pat Leach wishes she could just call in ‘sick.’ Not because she doesn’t like her job, but because she wants to finish the latest book that’s grabbed her attention.

It’s funny, she said, the thing that keeps her from reading most often is her job to help others read. Pat is the Director of Lincoln City Libraries. 

She’s worked at the Bennett Martin Public Library for most of the past 40 years, and it’s hard for her to imagine having a different job.

Her job at the library is to engage the community, encouraging reading, literacy and education and inviting everyone into the libraries across the city. It’s a job that fits Pat, because of her deep love of reading and her passion for sharing that love with others. 

But it’s also a job that nearly 10 years ago, she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore.

Here’s why.

After almost 30 years of working in the library, Pat had a thought one day, ‘Maybe I should be doing something different…’

It wasn’t that she didn’t like her job, or it didn’t fit her skills, actually, it did both. Pat just wanted to be sure she was in the right career, so, she called a career counselor.

Up to that point, the Bennett Martin Public Library had been Pat’s place. It was where she worked during college, the place she met her late husband and how she interacted with people from the community. She’d worked in various areas of the library system and had seen the library grow and change over the years.

But a question still lingered in her head, “Was there something else out there I should do?”

When Pat met with the career counselor, they talked about her strengths and weaknesses, her likes and dislikes, and worked to determine what career field might fit her best. At the end of the evaluation it came time to look at the list of potential career options.

Pat held her breath and looked at the list – at the top was ‘librarian.’

Go figure.

If she hadn’t been sure before, she was then, working in the library was the right place for Pat. She remembers the career counselor making a comment like, ‘Well, it looks like you landed in the right place from the start…’

It was true. Pat’s life wasn’t consumed with the library, but so much of her personal and careers passions worked perfectly together.

After meeting with the career counselor she felt confident that her job at the library wasn’t just an easy fit, it was the right fit. Since then, Pat has leaned in more and more to her role at the library.

In 2008, she became the Library Director, a job that oversees the workings of all the public libraries in Lincoln. She also hosts a weekly radio show on NET called ‘All About Books’ and frequently speaks at events and to students about the importance of reading and literature.

She lived a pretty “charmed” life, up until three years ago when her beloved husband, Jerry Johnston, was diagnosed with cancer. He died just seven weeks after the diagnosis.

Pat remembers people telling her how strong she was, saying they could never go through losing a spouse, but Pat didn’t think of herself as extraordinarily strong – she just did what she had to do. Something many people do every day in difficult circumstances.

She made it through the deep sadness and loss, and she values life more because of losing her husband. Pat doesn’t immediately talk about the loss of her husband because she doesn’t want that one moment to define her story.

To be honest, Pat said she isn’t sure what moment does define her story. Things like her childhood, her job at the library or even her husband are all part of it, but none of them seem to sum it all up. Maybe that’s just it.

Sometimes the best stories aren’t flashy or overly dramatic, they’re consistent and real.

Pat is kind and focused, determined and open-minded. Her story is about doing the next thing, being herself and enjoying each moment, no matter how big or small they may seem.

Lawrence De Villiers

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The son of a notable French politician, a member of the aristocratic De Villiers family, a comedian and a chef – Laurent De Villiers has been all of these things, and now he’s a Nebraskan.

These days Laurent goes by Lawrence, but that doesn’t mean he’s forsaken his heritage. He’s French through and through. You can tell by his accent, his general mannerisms and the fact that he owns The Normandy, a local French bistro.

His story is complicated. It spans continents and is marked by periods of rebellion, confusion, joy and renewal.

But Lawrence says his story really started went he met his wife, Renee.

The two met when Lawrence was doing volunteer work with a Catholic Franciscan order in the Bronx. Renee was working at a local shelter and the two quickly became friends. They were from very different backgrounds – Lawrence grew up in a high-brow, political family, Renee grew up in the small, laid-back town of McCool Junction.

After they started dating, Lawrence and Renee moved to Paris for a year before coming back to Nebraska and settling in Lincoln.

It was around this time that Lawrence noticed the lack of French cuisine in Lincoln. He craved it and realized the only place he could find it was in his own kitchen. So, he started small. He opened up a booth at the farmer’s market where he sold crepes and pastries and then started catering authentic French meals to his more eager customers.

Lawrence knew that he needed a full-scale restaurant, and Renee encouraged him to keep exploring this idea.

So, after a short stint in the Railyard’s Public Market, Lawrence bought a former bar and grill at the corner of 17th and Van Dorn streets and transformed it into his French bistro.

“It looked nothing like this when we moved in,” Lawrence said, looking around at his manicured dining room. “But it also took time.”

He was patient when it came to growing his business. He started with authentically French food that he catered to the palettes of Nebraskans and his atmosphere followed suite. In France, he said, you find a lot of small mom and pop shops that serve amazing food and that’s what he wanted to create in Lincoln.

He knew it didn’t need to be complicated, but it needed to be done right and that’s what he did.

Having a local restaurant in Lincoln is hard, it takes time, resources and lots of patience, but Lawrence does it for his family. He and his wife now have three daughters, and carving out a place for his restaurant and his family have become a major part of his story.

It’s a story he didn’t anticipate being his own, mostly, because it’s the opposite of so much of his early life.

Lawrence’s childhood was full of expectations. His family was wealthy and well-known and they hope he’d follow the same path, but early on Lawrence knew that wasn’t what he wanted.

He wanted to start something, run his own business, make and earn his own money – he wanted to be free of his family’s expectations. This search for freedom, along with marrying his wife are what led Lawrence to Lincoln.

It’s a place that’s vastly different from France, but also so different from his elite childhood. Lincoln has quickly become his home, and a chapter in his story that he’s proud to share with his customers.

“We’re not rich, but we’re making it,” he said. “I couldn’t find a better place to raise my children, for my marriage, for my relationships with people – we’re very blessed here.”

Nate Woods

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Nate Woods points to a grouping of framed photos on the wall.

“He’s going to graduate from high school this year, and she will too…” he said, moving his pointer finger from one photo to the next.

Nate is standing in a quiet hallway inside The Malone Center. In a few hours these halls will be filled with the sound of pattering feet and excited voices of the kids enrolled in the after school program. It’s this boisterous, controlled-chaos that is, by far, Nate’s favorite part of the day.

But other than the people who use the community center, Nate said, few people know much about the story behind the building and its programs. It’s a story that’s close to Nate’s heart, because his story is connected to the Center.

The Malone Center was started in 1955 as a way to strengthen the African American community and serve as a hub for educational, cultural and social programs for all people.

But its roots go deeper than its founding in 1955, and Nate Woods knows this because his grandfather, Millard Woods, was the original founder.

In the early ‘30s, Millard wanted a place for people of all races to gather. Nate described how back then there was still a high level of segregation that left colored people out of other social gathering spots. So, Millard started what he called the Urban League out of a yellow, two-story house.

The precursor to The Malone Center became the place to find information about jobs and schooling, but also a social hall with sewing clubs, dances and basketball games that filled the house with nearly constant energy.

Nate was only six years old when his grandfather passed away and is honest about the fact that he doesn’t remember much about him. He wasn’t around to experience the early years of The Malone Center, but Nate understands an important part of his grandfather’s story because of The Malone Center.

Nate has worked as the assistant director at The Malone Center for the last 13 years. He’s helped start numerous programs and watched as kids transition from preschool to high school. He’s like a dad to most of the kids there, he knows their names, interests, strengths and weaknesses. He’s the person parents call if they’re concerned about their kid.

Nate just gets kids and he know that matters, because not so many years ago he was one of those kids running around and shooting hoops in the gym.

While Nate lived on the west side of Lincoln, he remembers finally getting to the age when his mom would let him bike across town to The Malone Center. He’d shoot hoops with friends until it got dark and then he’d bike home.

It was his routine, his place, and that’s what Nate loves being able to give to the people who utilize The Malone Center today. 

Nate loves his job. He said he wakes up every day, excited about the new challenges and surprises that await him. He knows that not everyone feels that way about their work, and he thinks it has something to do with living under his grandfather’s legacy. 

Here’s the thing, Nate may not have known his grandfather very well, but the way he describes him – caring, kind, energetic – is the way so many people describe Nate. He walks around the Center joking with the maintenance guy and giving one of the preschool teachers a hard time, he’s fun to be around and that seems pretty special.

Nate points to one last picture on the wall.

“That’s my grandfather,” he said, looking intently at the painted picture.

“I think he’d be proud of this place.”

And for Nate Woods, that’s what matters.

David Claus

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David Claus has woken up a lot of people while painting. Not because he’s a loud painter, but because he’s a singing painter.

His voice is deep and booming as he belts out, ‘Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day…’

Whether it’s interior or exterior spaces, it doesn’t matter, David sings when he’s on the job, and he’s been doing it this way for nearly 30 years.

He doesn’t advertise his services or carry around a business card, because being a singing painter definitely gets him noticed. He’s a character with connections and he does all of his work by word-of-mouth, but David became the singing painter in a pretty roundabout way.

In college, all David really wanted to do was sing. He went to school at Nebraska Wesleyan and started out in the music department, but ended up with a business degree after his music professors wanted him to learn to play the piano.

“I didn’t like that,” he said, describing his confusion with cords and scrunching his face in a look of played-up disgust.

After college, David tried his hand at real estate and the railroad before joining the Peace Corps in Malaysia.

As a Peace Corps intern David’s official job was to be a business advisor at the local farmers cooperative, but he said he spent most of his time entertaining the locals. He sang, danced and animated his way into the hearts of the people he worked with for two and a half years.

But when he got back to the states he was a Malay-speaking kid with 39 cents in his pocket and no idea what to do next.

So, David went back to school for a little while. He worked as a bartender, partied a little more than he should have, and then got involved in the theatre scene in Lincoln.

David rattled off the names of various actor friends who he was in plays with as well as a few famous people he met along the way, like Gordon McRae, best known for his role in Oklahoma! and Carousel.

At the mention of Gordon, David started in again… ‘There’s a bright golden haze on that meadow…’

He explained how during one of his performances he met Gordon and his wife and they offered him a job as Gordon’s traveling companion. David traveled with Gordon to Chicago, Pittsburg, California and Miami and met all sorts of famous actors.

Shortly after Gordon died, David ended up in California where his brother was flipping houses. He started painting with his brother and trying to get acting gigs, and eventually realized he was doing more painting than acting so he moved back to Lincoln.

He continued painting and returned to the acting community, and for a while things settled down for David. He met his wife – who he met when she needed her apartment painted – got married and they had a baby girl who they named Melody – yes, the name was intentional.

At this point David was the singing painter without the official title. He sang while he worked as a way to rehearse for whatever production he had coming up, and people loved his unique spin on the job.

Before long, David said people started referring to him as the singing painter and he started to book official gigs at weddings, funerals and nearly every Husker sporting event.

David never imagined actually making a living as a singing painter, but after nearly 30 years that’s what he’s done.

But it’s more than the singing and the painting that seem to draw in customers, it’s his goofy smile and comical laugh. David is kind of like a cartoon character who you can’t help but like, and that’s the point.

“I’m a one-man show,” he said with a smirk. “If I can’t make you my friend by the time I’m done working with you, well that’s your loss. Some people just want the paint job…silly them.”

That’s the thing about David, he’s himself 100 percent of the time – his goofy, loud, silly, entertainer self who just wants to be a part of everyone’s story. He doesn’t care if his boisterous singing catches people off guard, it’s who he is and it’s what he does.

David’s story is about finding a way to mesh his hobby with his work, being true to himself and injecting joy into everything he does, because that’s what the Singing Painter does best.

Photo courtesy of The TADA Theatre. 

Jason and Cindy Nabb

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There’s something about the Nabb’s house that just feels like home.

Maybe it’s the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the toddler teetering around with an orange in her hand, the two kiddos sitting at the dining room table working on their school work or the morning sunlight filtering into the living room where we sat and chatted.

By the end of our time together, I knew what made their home feel so welcoming – love. Now, before you jump to any conclusions or start asking about what philosophical kind of love I’m talking about, just read this story.

Jason and Cindy Nabb have been married for nearly 17 years. They have eight children ranging in age from 18 to almost 2 years old. But Jason and Cindy don’t have a typical love story, and certainly not a love story that they thought would lead them to where they are now.

“She was dating one of my friends when I met her,” said Jason, he and Cindy looked at each other and laughed.

That’s basically how their story went. They were two dysfunctional youngsters who had an extremely broken and dysfunctional relationship.

Their early love history had a weird pattern. Date, get engaged, break up, drink, date, break up, drink some more, don’t talk, get pregnant with somebody else, just friends, don’t talk.

Cindy said on the day they were supposed to get married (the first time) they met up and got coffee in Lincoln before she traveled to Minneapolis and Jason moved to Tulsa. They literally couldn’t have been going in more opposite directions.

But then Cindy gave birth to her baby, Olivia, and called Jason to tell him she had become a mommy. He got the message after he’d been at a Super Bowl party and thought to himself, ‘What am I doing?!’

The next year, on their would-have-been one-year anniversary, Jason asked Cindy to marry him in front of their entire church in Lincoln.

A year later, Jason started the paperwork to adopt Olivia.  

As Jason and Cindy told their story, I watched as their daughter Ashley sat quietly and listened. It didn’t look like the first time she’d heard this story, because she kept smiling, looking as if she was glad she knew the way the roller coaster of a tale would end.

But getting married wasn’t the end of Jason and Cindy’s love story. If anything it was the beginning. They went on to have five more biological children – Simon, Isaac, Meredith, Ashley and Sam – and a few weeks ago they adopted two more children from foster care.

The Nabbs have a full house, and you don’t even want to know their monthly grocery budget. Cindy said a lot of people who don’t know them look at her like she’s crazy to have this many children, but the people who know them understand that it just makes sense because they know Jason and Cindy.

When they bought their current house, they knew they wanted it to be a place they shared with others. Sure, they had a big family, but they also had extra room.

They opened up their basement to a single mom and her daughter who stayed with them for a season. It was a sad, difficult and messy situation, but it didn’t scare them out of serving.

“We want our kids to know that there’s a sacrifice that comes with serving,” Jason said. “There are people who need help and they’re worth sacrificing for.”

This is when the Nabbs seriously started considering foster care.  

“Especially coming from the backgrounds that we have…we feel so redeemed,” Cindy said. “Why wouldn’t we want to give that to someone else in return?”

After going through the process of getting licensed, the Nabbs received lots of calls for kids to be placed in their home. The call that led to a placement was for two sisters who were 3-months and 3-years-old.

And so it began. Therapy appointments, learning assessments, meeting with and encouraging the girls’ biological parents, talking through the situation with their children, praying.

It was a hard situation to enter into. It was hard on their marriage and their family. It was sad to see the stories of two, young girls and their parents struggling and oftentimes failing, but it also showed and taught them how to love more deeply.

“I think of commitment as a synonym for love more than anything else,” Cindy said. “You don’t change your commitment to your kids or your spouse because circumstances change.”

It’s about choosing to love, despite your weaknesses.

Their love and decision to love led them to the courthouse on January 19, 2016 to make Crystal Elizabeth and Luna Isabel part of their family.

Jason and Cindy said they didn’t set out to adopt – they also didn’t set out to have six biological children – but that’s the beauty of it all, right?

They would be the first to tell you that they haven’t loved well at all times, they’re not perfect, but love is a big part of their story.

The Nabb’s story is one that’s about more than the mushy, gushy love that quickly feels artificial.

Their story is about an imperfect love for each other, the overwhelming love of their community and the unfailing love of a God who multiplies their love for one another.

Mike Smith

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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.

Jennifer Rosenblatt

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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.

Bryan Seck

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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.

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