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Nancy Teague

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When Nancy Teague paints she comes to life. Her hand moves quickly, then slowly, intentionally and then spontaneously.

She smiles, steps back to get a better view and then moves back toward her painting.

Nancy is an abstract artist. She describes her work as emotional and free but also ordered and on-purpose.

But Nancy’s expressive abstracts are somewhat new to her – she’s only been painting in this style for three years – and yet her career as an artist started long before she ever painted an abstract.

Nancy’s style shifted to accommodate her physical and emotional changes over the past few years, and it’s a shift that’s impacted more than just her art.

Nancy said she never dreamed of being a ‘professional’ artist. Sure, she was an artistic kid who loved sketching, building and tinkering, but how could that ever be a career, she thought.

In college, Nancy graduated with a degree in education and found a job in Lincoln as an art teacher. She loved watching her students learn and create, it was the perfect fit for her.

But it was only after she quit teaching, due to budget cuts, that Nancy started to pursue her own art. She used her colors and technique to bring photographed images to life with light and texture. As a realism artist her paintings were exact, every stroke had a place and there was little room for error.  

Nancy would often drive to small towns and then walk around with her camera in-hand, looking for objects to photograph and then paint in her studio. She loved the way she could bring a painting to life with shading, layers and shadows, this was her art and she was proud of it.

Over time Nancy competed in nationally ranked art fairs. She won a few notable awards and her career seemed to be off and running.

But in the late ‘90s Nancy developed a tremor in her left hand – the hand she paints with. She could no longer write her name and even something as simple as drinking water became an annoyance. Her work as a realist painter was intricate, and working with a tremor was impossible.

So, she closed up shop. She sold her materials, packed up her canvases and gave up painting.

The next ten years of Nancy’s life were quiet but impactful. They were full of thinking and evaluating, figuring out what she believed, and why her beliefs mattered. It was also frustrating. Nancy taught herself how to write with her right hand and she felt like a first-grader as she practiced rows and rows of single letters. It was hard, but Nancy was managing.

In 2008 an artist friend encouraged Nancy to explore painting again. They discussed making prints of Nancy’s former work and that got Nancy thinking… ‘I wonder if I can paint at all…’

Late one night she picked up a paintbrush and started in – she was doing it. Her tremor was there but she was painting like she used to, and to her surprise she was noticing finer details than before. 

For the next five years, Nancy delighted in her realism painting and began to slowly experiment with painting styles beyond realism.

She said she felt like a child again, playing with paint, enjoying the fluid movement and testing out new methods. She found that she could paint with her left hand and right hand together, it didn’t matter, because there was so much less structure.

But something else was happening too. As Nancy shifted her art from realism to abstract, a similar shift happened inside of her, she said. 

She found joy, a deep, deep inner joy that suddenly spilled out onto her canvas.

It’s a joy that came from her long-time faith in God, and a new realization of different truths about God and her own identity and purpose. Nancy said it was this inner freedom that propelled her shift to abstract painting.

“It’s hard to not do something that brings you joy,” she said.

So that’s what she’s done.

Not many artists can switch from one style to another, but to Nancy, her shift was unexpected but intentional. It was an outpouring of what she longed to experience, while still factoring in her limitations.

Nancy’s story is about learning from her doing, and growing from her learning. It’s about finding joy in a place that seemed unwanted and but turned out to be more rewarding than she could have imagined.

Her story is about realizing that there’s more to her story than she ever expected, and that was the real surprise.

Justin Jones

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When Justin and Jennifer Jones stepped off the plane in Nebraska for the first time, they were wearing shorts and sandals – it was March.

And while they were highly unprepared for the snowy weather, the southern-born couple came ready for a new adventure and lots of hard work.

They came to open Nebraska’s first Raising Cane’s restaurant.

That was 10 years ago. Today, Justin is the owner of five Raising Cane’s locations in Nebraska, but his story starts with a lot of self doubt and a complete lack of clarity.

Back in 1996 Justin was a college student at Louisiana State University who had no clue what to do.

But it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Justin put himself through college working construction jobs, fitting pipes, delivering home appliances and loading up 18-wheelers at night. He changed his major five or six times until he decided to graduate with a degree in general studies.

A few months before graduation, Justin attended a college fair. He wandered from booth to booth, talking with recruiters and asking about potential jobs. Then he saw the Raising Cane’s booth, so he marched up to the recruiter and asked, ‘So, how could I own one of these restaurants?’

It was a pretty bold question for a kid who had no direction, but after the recruiter told Justin more about the company’s values and goals, Justin submitted a job application and at the end of the month he was training for the position of store manager.

Honestly, Justin said, he took the job to give his resume a boost. He thought having ‘management’ on his list would be more impressive and lead to a better job down the road.

But not everyone understood his job choice. Justin had just spent seven years pursuing a college degree and he ended up in the food service industry? It became a bit of a joke, but Justin didn’t care.

He was quickly starting to see that his job at Raising Cane’s was more than just a resume booster. For the next three years, Justin helped manage, launch, grow and sustain both new and veteran restaurants in Louisiana. He traveled like crazy and slept in small increments. It was insane, but oddly normal to Justin.

For the first time in his life Justin said he felt like he was doing something that mattered. He was creating something new, helping his team succeed and enjoying every minute of the craziness.

And then in 2006, Justin got the call he’d been waiting for – a chance to run his own franchise.

That’s when he and his wife uprooted their lives and moved to Lincoln – a place with no family and nothing familiar, just Raising Cane’s.

The launch of their first location at 48th and R streets received an overwhelming amount of attention and support during the first few months of business, but things eventually slowed down. Justin remembers talking with Jennifer during their first Christmas in Nebraska about how they could really give back to the community, to show people that they weren’t just another restaurant in the community, but the community’s restaurant. 

In the coming months they instituted coat and food drives and began donating a part of their proceeds to Lincoln as a whole. People started to notice that not only was the food tasty and a quality product, but what Justin and Jennifer were doing was real.

It’s with this mindset that Justin has successfully opened a total of five Raising Cane’s locations in Nebraska.

These days, Justin doesn’t have to wear as many hats around the office as he used to. He’s no longer the accountant, IT guy, facilities manager, developer and store operator. He can delegate these roles to his team, he can look at the big picture and see what’s on the horizon for Raising Cane’s – he’s stepping back, but not stepping away.

Justin said it’s so strange to think back to being a clueless 18-year-old college freshman. He would have never dreamed of being a Raising Cane’s owner, or working his way up and making five locations his own…never.

But that’s just the point, he said. It’s what he often talks about when he speaks to college students. He reminds them to pursue what they love instead of a paycheck, because that’s where his story has shaped him the most.

Making $9/hour as a college grad wasn’t his plan, it wasn’t ideal, it was probably the worst plan he could have devised for himself, but it’s where his story came to life.

Some people might be bashful about being clueless or working at a fried chicken joint, but that’s not Justin. He’s proud of his story, he’s proud of his work and when he heads home at the end of the day, that’s what matters.

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.

Ben Welstead

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Ben Welstead has a good story, and he knows exactly when it starts – 2007.

Back then he was a church youth group director who was busy organizing events, meeting with kids and taking the occasional summer missions trip.

It was these trips that got him thinking about alternative ways to fundraise. He noticed his youth group kids lived in t-shirts and jeans and they were always looking for a cool new shirt to add to their collection, so Ben thought he’d try screen printing for himself.

Ben has always been somewhat of a jack-of-all-trades, so screen printing seemed like just another hobby to add to the list.

He bought a screen printing starter pack and then watched YouTube videos to fill in the blanks. It was a very trial-and-error process with lots of frustration and mistakes, but when Ben finally pulled his squeegee over his very first screen he realized he’d finally figured it out.

That was the start of Basement Ink, Ben’s literally basement-run print shop.

At this point, Ben and his wife, Renee, were both running businesses out of their home. It was busy, stressful and new. They were keeping their heads down, working, making deadlines, figuring out how to run businesses and pushing forward.

And then the phone rang.

While Ben had been starting his business, he and Renee had also become foster parents, and that phone call was about a possible placement.

Two girls – sisters – and then came the question, ‘Would you be interested in possibly adopting them?’

Umm, maybe? The next few months were filled with weekend visits, meetups and a lot of hard questions and conversations with friends and family about what it meant to be parents.

Were they ready? Could they raise these sisters? How do you love a child who you barely know?

It was a hard season with desperate moments and little sleep. The girls moved into their house, they figured out routines, likes, dislikes and on National Adoption day in 2011 they made Cora and Ruby their daughters.

Being parents is revealing, said Ben, and as they adjusted to the joy and pain of being a family a few things surfaced.

Ben realized he couldn’t work at home anymore. There was too much stress, too much anxiety and too much loneliness. Sure, he was in his own house and around his family, but he was constantly thinking about work because it was in his house. It became unhealthy, and as Ben reached a breaking point, Renee handed him a listing for a rental space.

On the day he signed the lease on his new work space, another call came – twins, biological siblings of their daughters.

“We just knew they should be with us,” Ben said.

And six months later, Louis and June became Welsteads too.

For a while things worked out OK. Ben’s family had tripled in a matter of years, it was crazy, in a good way but also a bad way. Ben was still putting in an obscene amount of hours, he was constantly apologizing to clients for missed deadlines and more importantly he felt disconnected from his family when he was home.

Something had to give, but he was at a loss for what needed to happen.

Then, he got a text.

Another screen printer in town, Jason Davis of Screen Ink, had a job opening and wondered if Ben would be interested in merging operations. It was the answer Ben needed, and a few months later he sold his printing equipment, left his rental space and joined Screen Ink.

These days, Ben doesn’t spend weekdays mindlessly printing shirts alone in his basement, he’s collaborating with a team for the first time, finding creative ways to stretch Screen Ink and then biking home with a freed mind to his family.

On the weekends he cheers at soccer games, takes the kids on family bike rides and carts them to birthday parties. The days are busy and full, but so much better than before, he said.

To say a lot has changed over the past nine years of Ben’s life would be an understatement. Everything changed, but Ben wouldn’t have it any other way.

The way he told his story was honest and sincere. It wasn’t some nice spin on things, it was unfiltered, rich and raw.

It’s a story with so much struggle, but also so much beauty. It’s about becoming a family, being a family and embracing change.

But it’s also a story that’s not finished, there’s more to come from Ben and the rest of the Welstead clan, and that’s a story we’re excited to watch unfold.

Dan Sloan

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Dan Sloan’s world revolves around coffee, but he’s not an addict or snob.

He has a Milano in the morning and maybe another in the afternoon, but that’s about it. If he happens to have a cup of coffee that’s not great when he is traveling, it’s no big deal. Actually, it’s kind of a good thing, he said, it just reaffirms that what his team is doing at The Mill is as good as he thinks.

Dan has been part of The Mill since his early 20s. He’s gone from doing the books, to roasting the coffee and managing the staff to being an owner. He’s seen the coffee shop expand from a coffee corner to two full-scale shops.

A lot of his story has been shaped by the growth and expansion of The Mill, but Dan’s story has also shaped the organic and eclectic feel that’s present at The Mill today.

Let’s start at the beginning.

It was the late ‘70s and Dan was finishing his accounting degree at Union College. He was a numbers guy looking for his first job and a professor told him that the bike shop down the street needed someone to help with their books, so Dan applied and got the job.

At the time, the bike shop owner had a small coffee area in a corner of the shop. Nothing fancy, just basic coffee for the people who shopped. Over time, the shop owner fell in love with coffee and wanted to sell gourmet imported coffee to customers.

“That was the genesis of The Mill,” Dan said.

Now, The Mill has become a Lincoln staple. It’s a go-to spot for studying, newspaper reading or even a first date. Dan looked around The Haymarket Mill, scoping out his patrons for the day, as he described how he enjoys watching different crowds of people filter in and out of the coffee shop.

There’s a certain group that shows up at The Mill on Sunday mornings and another that occupies the late-night, weekday hours. So many people have integrated The Mill into their routine, and to Dan that’s special.

When it comes to running the shop, Dan described his approach as more evolutionary than revolutionary, meaning he didn’t necessarily set out to do anything other than roast and sell great coffee, but they’ve catered their services and aesthetic to what customers have wanted.

“We’re about community as much as coffee … we’re a melting pot, a meeting place, a safe haven … and we hear people’s stories,” he said as he waved to someone across the shop.

The Mill has done well, Dan said. Are there ways they could be more profitable? Sure, but he’s not willing to compromise his community-focused shop just to be slightly more profitable, that’s not Dan.

And while running a local coffee shop might seem like a simple task, it’s not. Dan takes it personally. His employees are like his kids, his two locations are an extension of his home and every paycheck he writes is going toward important things like college tuition, gas, groceries, student debt or rent.

It’s heavy and even lonely at times, because running a popular coffee shop is a 24/7 job. But it’s a load he shares with his wife, and it’s also one Dan takes pride in. It’s a pride and work ethic that he connects to his dad who owned a bakery in a small Michigan town.

Dan can remember washing dishes in the bakery and pulling all-nighters with his dad to make sure the shop was stocked for the next day. He knows it wasn’t easy to raise four boys on a bakery, but it was what his dad loved and passionately pursued until he retired.

He’d often say to Dan, ‘If you don’t have pride in what you do, you have no business doing it.’ That’s why Dan has stayed tethered to The Mill after all this time, it’s the combination of his passion, the people, the ownership and the community – it’s satisfying work.

And while his accountant-turned-coffee-shop-owner title cues looks of confusion, Dan likes that his work is a nerdy-hippie hybrid.  He knows his experience in the corporate accounting world has shaped him as an employer and given him the tools to properly build and expand The Mill. In the same way, his people-driven coffee shop has brought out his extroverted side.

When Dan takes time to zoom out and look at the broader picture of his life, he’s not shocked that The Mill has been a consistent theme. He said he always hoped he’d be his own boss. He was never a traditionalist who played it safe. Dan likes risks and he values making his own mistakes.

His story is about building community, watching community grow and staying true to his values. He’s thankful for the stress, chaos and culture that a coffee shop has brought into his life and his story.

He’s Dan Sloan largely because of The Mill, so if you want to know Dan, just stop by The Mill.

Angela Garbacz

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Goldenrod Pastries is closed on Mondays and is quiet except for the occasional hum of the mixer.  

Angela Garbacz is starting with macarons – espresso macarons with just a hint of cardamom. She pipes out the purple macarons with a quick flick of her wrist and then adds a sprinkle of sanding sugar to the top before putting them in the oven.

“I’m really on a coffee kick right now,” she said. “Espresso is in everything.”

This type of creative baking is exactly how Angela pictured Goldenrod. She wanted her pastry case to be filled with an assortment of pastries guided by her gut feelings and the availability of locally sourced ingredients, all while catering to alternative diets.

And for the past year that’s exactly what she’s created.

One day the Goldenrod pastry case might be filled with towering layered cakes, dairy-free muffins and macarons, and the next it’s stacked with gluten-free almond cookies, fruit galettes, mini cupcakes and gooey vegan cinnamon rolls.

It’s what Angela pictured when she was dreaming up Goldenrod, but it’s also so much more than she expected.  

Angela said she can’t remember a time in her life when she wasn’t baking. It was her childhood hobby until she visited a restaurant that was in cooperation with a culinary school and realized baking could also be her career.

She got her Food Science degree at UNL, worked in a handful of restaurants and then attended the French Culinary Institute in New York. Shortly after she graduated from culinary school, Angela discovered her own dairy intolerance and began making pastries to accommodate her dietary needs.

When people found out she made dairy-free pastries they eagerly asked for gluten-free, vegan and other alternative diet baked goods and Angela started experimenting with various flours, sugars, fats and flavors.

She got so busy that she quit her day job and opened up Goldenrod Pastries in May 2015.

Opening Goldenrod gave Angela a place try out new things and really engage with her craft. She cooks with precision, but also leaves room for experimenting.

She loves watching singular ingredients merge and transform into a cohesive treat that’s both beautiful and tasty. It’s satisfying work to create and feed others, she said, and most of the time she just wants to give her pastries away.

That’s the thing about Angela, she didn’t start a bakery to get herself noticed or even to be her own boss, she did it to meet a need in Lincoln.

She started off simply with a blog and a few followers, but the day she opened her doors she had a line of people waiting to try her pastries.

She started off as a lone shopkeeper and baker and is now the boss to five hardworking employees.

She started off with a vacant space in the cutesy College View neighborhood and has transformed it into a place where life happens.

Angela and her staff have made cakes for sweethearts and expectant mamas, only to have them show up in the shop a few months later with engagement rings new babies. And last week a kid asked his girlfriend to go to prom with him at Goldenrod.

Angela is a woman with a clear creative vision, but even she didn’t anticipate the kind of growth and support she would receive from the community. Take one look at the Goldenrod Pastries Facebook or Instagram feed and you’ll notice people commenting, tagging friends and planning dates to meet up at the shop.

Goldenrod has become more than a place to eat pastries, it’s become a place where people want to be. It’s not something Angela manufactured or planned for, it just happened, and it’s beautiful.

So much of Goldenrod feels like home. It feels safe and comfortable, it makes you want to stay and be yourself. And all of Goldenrod is Angela. She didn’t just breed community out of nothing, she’s intentional about the way she runs her business, reaches out to customers and cares about her roots.

Her story has quickly become a part of Lincoln’s story. A story of creating and sharing, of welcoming and inviting.

“This is my life, this is everything I do,” Angela said, looking around her shop. “So if I’m not happy and grateful for everyone who comes in the door then it doesn’t matter, so I really don’t take a customer for granted.”

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. 

Ann Ringlein

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She’s had the same routine for more than 30 years – wake up and run.

Sometimes she even sleeps in her running clothes so all she has to do is get up and walk out the door. Now that’s dedication.

But even though she’s an avid runner, Ann Ringlein isn’t showy.

Sure, ask any Lincoln runner about Ann and they’re sure to know her. She’s won lots of races, qualified for prestigious runs and was a track and cross country coach for 20 years, but that’s not why Ann runs.

***

Ann hustled over to unlock the front door of the Lincoln Running Company and peeked her head out, “Good morning ma’am, do you need something? Shoes? Ok, yeah come on in!”

She doesn’t turn people away even though it’s at least 45 minutes before the shop opens, because that’s just Ann.

“Take a seat and let’s see what you need here,” she said with a big smile.

Ann watched carefully as the woman walked back and forth in the quiet store, quickly assessing her feet as they moved in the tennis shoes.

“You have a good arch, let’s try these,” she said.

The Lincoln Running Company is known for quality shoes and a good fit. Doctors and physical therapists often refer patients to the store because they trust their expertise, but a lot of them also tell their patients to ask specifically for Ann.

She knows shoes because she knows running.

Ann said she couldn’t really remember the exact details that surrounded why she started running, but she remembers being bored. She had a lot of energy as a young girl, so many nights after she got off work she’d head over to the track across from her house in Red Cloud, Neb., and run laps.

She competed in a few races as she got older and did well enough that she won prizes and qualified for bigger races, and Ann was hooked. She’s been running ever since, and her days without running seem few and far between.

After moving to Lincoln 31 years ago with her husband and two young girls, Ann quickly became a major part of Lincoln’s running community. She’s coached track and cross country teams, worked in shoe stores, given motivational talks about running and she even puts on a beginners running class during the summer that typically brings in about 300-400 newbie runners.

Ann said so many of the new runners are intimidated by the sport, they don’t even know where to start. She said they take one look at her petite frame and they want to give up, but she works hard to get them to set their own personal goals and not compare themselves to others, because the most important part is that they’re moving.

That’s the thing about Ann, she doesn’t care how people run, if they do it wearing tutus and glitter in crazy-themed races or on the trails in Lincoln, if they start out just walking or if they never run a race, exercise is exercise.

For Ann, running is about caring for herself, staying well and taking time to regroup. Ann said when she had young kids she had to be a little bit selfish about taking time out of the day to run, but if she didn’t do it her day was completely thrown off.

Ann runs because she loves it. She runs to breathe deeper, to enjoy the outdoors and to start her day right. She also runs to be a better boss, employee, wife and mother.

Sure, running is a major theme in Ann’s story, but it’s not all that she does. She’s an avid gardener, nature lover and recycler, a compassionate mother and doting grandma. She loves to donate new and pre-loved shoes to local organizations and is on numerous boards in town including the Humane Society, Great Plains Trail Network and the Lincoln Track Club.

Ann runs for more than just her own enjoyment, she runs so she can learn, teach and care for her community, and to Ann, that’s what matters.

Steve Glenn

By

Steve Glenn gets giddy when he talks about work.

Almost a giggly, middle school girl kind of giddy. He listed off the agenda for his Friday afternoon, consisting of an assortment of phone and in-person meetings extending from 12:30 until after 6:00 that evening.

“Doesn’t that just sound like a fun day?!?!!” said Steve as he looked up from his calendar. He wasn’t being sarcastic or overly optimistic, he just loves his work.

No, Steve doesn’t give away puppies for a living, he’s a business owner and entrepreneur. More specifically he’s the owner of Executive Travel, Headwind Consumer Products, four True Value hardware stores, a Batteries+Bulbs franchise, a few shopping centers and a Subway in his hometown of Pawnee City, Neb.

It’s a lot, but it doesn’t stress Steve out because it didn’t happen overnight. 

Steve started his first company, Executive Travel, after reading a book titled, ‘How to start a travel agency.’ He started out in a small office where his desk doubled as the top of a 4-drawer filing cabinet.

Steve sold travel door-to-door, slowly building his business and coming up with innovative ways to make travel more accessible. He even gave away computers to his customers as a way to excite them about travel and technology. People thought he was crazy, but Steve saw how intrigued people were with his out-of-the-box methods, and his business boomed.

“I’m disruptive,” Steve said. “Doesn’t that sound like a bad thing?”

Being disruptive has fueled Steve’s daily excitement to try to new things, but it doesn’t mean he hasn’t had his fair share of failure.

Steve said he’s started more than 40 different companies, and a handful of them have been duds, but that’s fine by him. He sees failure as part of the creative process and he’s taught himself how to deal with failure head-on.

He learned how to fail from his experiences as a Husker football player, businessman and political candidate. Each season showed Steve that there was always someone faster, stronger, smarter or more popular than he was. It didn’t feel good, but Steve realized that he could either be defeated by those realities or learn from them, and he chose the latter.

Steve directly attributes his success to his ability to fail, pick himself back up and try again. He’s not afraid to fail, and he challenges others to do the same.

But what stood out the most about Steve’s story is that he knows who he is and who he’s not.

Steve is not a Type-A boss and he doesn’t try to be. He’s more of a visionary, and hates the idea of a plan with no flexibility.

He’s a big picture kind of guy who knows how to dream big, take risks and push the envelope.  He’s not very good at focusing his own thoughts, but he’s an extremely thoughtful and inspiring mentor.

Steve doesn’t claim to have all the answers, he doesn’t boast about his success or any of his skills. Instead, his story is about knowing what he loves, doing what he loves and staying aligned with his passions.

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