God, bless Jenny Cape. And God bless anyone else who runs a children's ministry. (And God bless my drawing abilities while we're at it, because man am I rusty!) It seems to be a thankless and overwhelming task and this woman does it with a huge smile on her face; wrangling, engaging and entertaining not only a congregation full of kids, but also the volunteers who teach them. And, you know, I think she loves it...clearly she's crazy.
Jenny has a pretty big fan club, and even though we don't know each other that well, I can see why. She's tough, funny, smart, sweet, calming and under that big smile she's always got on, I detect a note of subtle comical cynicism which seems to be a hidden treasure here in the south.
Jenny Reinsch Hoshaw
Here comes the tears again! Every thursday night, somewhere in St. Charles, Missouri, a group of incredible women are meeting. A group that I can only classify as a miracle. TGIT! This group started November 17th, 2004(?) with 6 new Christian gals who just wanted to know stuff. Almost a decade later, this group has grown to a number I can only guess is around 30. But this isn't about that group...it's about Jenny!
I felt close to Jenny right away. She makes my heart happy. She's such a genuine, authentic and compassionate person with leadership abilities that I think she's only half aware of. You can tell Jenny anything with no judgement bounced back at you what-so-ever. Only genuine interest and caring.
AND... if terrorists ever force me to be captain of a softball team and hand pick my players in a game that determines the fate of a building full of people, Jenny would be my first pick!
I moved to O'fallon, Missouri the summer before seventh grade (such a perfectly awkward age to start over.) So did Jerad. I suppose we could smell each others fear because we found each other pretty quickly that first day and were immediate allies. Jared was friendly, funny, outgoing, cute and had super cool hair so people were drawn to him and I happily leeched on and covertly gathered his admirers and wrangled my own group of pals...cause that's how I do. We stayed good buddies for our remaining Fort Zumwalt years and since I could never get a date to any dances senior year, he swooped in and rescued me two more times. It frightens me to think what would have happened had I leeched on to someone else that fateful day in 1992.
Uhhh....what the what? Okay, so I admittedly have not been up to date on Jeremy's life the past many years, but I just checked out his page for a quick look see and apparently I have missed out on A LOT.
Jeremy was a college comrade. Back then I would describe him as a sweet, funny, mellow but secretly anxious and classically unkempt dude who you'd expect to find in the creative scene. Not lazy by any means, but not really motivated either. You know, like me. Just waiting to find "their thing".
Well...I guess he freaking found it. He now lives in Manchester, UK, with his wife (love it!) and owns his own BEAUTIFUL beer store and host events that merge beer drinking with great movies like Wet, Hot American Summer! Whhhhaaat!? Look at this place: Beermoth
A lot of my friends from college have really been getting their shit together and doing such amazing and ambitious things. Hopefully I'm next!
JERT is a fellow St. Louis to Atlanta transplant artist and one of my favorite kind of contradictions. Sweet and Salty. Like kettle-corn! While I've only been in his presence a few brief times I feel confident to say this: His art is funny, vulgar, cynical and has it's middle finger up at high art a-holes and he is absolutely one of the nicest people I've ever met.
I introduced myself to him via the internet before I moved down here and he was SO kind. He and his gorgeous wife, who live less than a mile from my job, invited me over many times to make friends. But, since I was in a bad mood for most of my first year here and caught a bad case of the anti-socials, I really didn't take advantage of their kindness. Shame on me.
Google JERT or go here: http://mrjert.blogspot.com/
Trust me. He's a big deal.