Matt Trexel has been the face of the Burlington Fire Department for more than a decade.

But the department has been the face of Matt Trexel’s life for far longer.

Trexel, 55, is officially retiring at the end of the year. A retirement celebration is set for Dec. 27.

He’s going to miss the place. More importantly, he’s going to miss the firefighters.

“I’ve hired over half the people who work here,” Trexel said. “They’re my friends. I love to go down to the kitchen and tell stories. We’ll talk about our families and our hobbies. My whole life has been the fire department. I have my blood family, but this is my other family.”

A Lone Tree native, Trexel moved to Burlington with his father when he was a junior in high school. His father moved to attend gun-smithing school at Southeastern Community College.

Though he didn’t grow up here, Trexel felt at home in Burlington and wanted to stay. He worked at Godfather’s Pizza during the summer and graduated from Burlington High School the following year.

Trexel went to school with his future wife, and they connected while working at Godfather’s Pizza. He entered the U.S. Marine Corps after high school in 1989.

“I decided to follow my dad’s footsteps since he was in the Marines,” Trexel said.

Trexel then started working as a correctional officer in Mount Pleasant. He had plans to become a police officer and work part-time as a security guard while taking criminal justice classes at SCC. He ended up working at the Burlington Fire Department.

Trexel did his best to choke back tears during his retirement speech Monday at the Burlington City Council meeting.

“I’ve loved this job. I found meaning in it,” he said.

It took Trexel four years to get hired. The employment scene was quite different in the 90s. Unlike now, police and fire agencies had far more applicants than they could use.

“I had no firefighting or EMS experience, and there were a ton of people. I don’t remember exactly how many, but there were a lot of people that applied, and that’s kind of why I think it took so long,” Trexel said.

Life in the fire department is quite a bit different now than it was then. The 24-hour shifts are still mandatory, but the firefighters’ sleep time is much looser now.

“Back then, it was very regimented. You went in at 5 o’clock and you made your bed in the dorm room. Then, at 9 o’clock, you could go to bed,” Trexel said.

Things are busier for the fire department now – partially because of Iowa’s aging population. Catching shut-eye is more a matter of convenience than ceremony now.&nbsp;

The fire department also serves more areas than it used to, such as Henderson County.

“If it’s 2 in the afternoon and we have a slow period, you can go in there and take a nap. You were way more likely to get some sleep back then,” Trexel said.

Trexel is closing down a 27-year career at the department and spent the first eight years as a general firefighter/paramedic. From there, he was promoted to captain and then battalion chief.

“I did a lot of training the first eight years, going to EMT school, going to paramedic school. Getting all the firefighter training,” he said.

Becoming captain put Trexel in a training role, and captains get to go out on most of the fire calls. As fire chief, Trexel makes his way to nearly every fire call he can.

He likes to joke that of all the big fires he fought, he missed the biggest one — the night First United Methodist Church burned to the ground.

“That was the one fire I was out of town for,” he said. “I was in an officer class in Des Moines.”

Other standout fires include the Horace Mann Middle School Fire, the Tama Building fire, and a lumberyard fire.

“I remember pulling up there (the lumberyard), and it was a huge inferno. It melted some of the gauges on our trucks. It was my first time where it was an all-nighter, you know, we’re out there all night. We’re back the next day, you know, mopping up things,” Trexel said. “You just don’t forget those kind of calls.”

Trexel became fire chief in December of 2012 while juggling a personal life that consists of a happy marriage with four children – including an adopted daughter from Ethiopia. He even has a grandson now.

“My kids are all grown adults now,” Trexel said.

Trexel also wants to spend more time with his grandson before he becomes full-grown. Being a fire chief is a 24/7 position. Downtime is precious and often unavailable.

Despite that, Trexel was able to accomplish the most significant task of the year before retiring – pushing through a bond referendum for a third fire station. The voting public overwhelmingly agreed with the need for a new station, though Trexel will no longer be with the fire department by the time it’s built.

He’s okay with that. He’s lived one life for the fire department. Now, he’s going to live another life for his family. And he may just fit some hunting in there.

“I am more a watcher than a hunter these days,” he said with a laugh. “I just like to sit in the stand.”

<figure>
 <img src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/burlington-beacon-media-bucket/public/2024/12/1735253275331.jpeg" alt="Photo by John Lovretta" />
 <figcaption>Photo by John Lovretta</figcaption>
 </figure>By William SmithMatt Trexel has been the face of the Burlington Fire Department for more than a decade.But the department has been the face of Matt Trexel’s life for far longer.Trexel, 55, is officially retiring at the end of the year. A retirement celebration is set for Dec. 27.He’s going to miss the place. More importantly, he’s going to miss the firefighters.“I’ve hired over half the people who work here,” Trexel said. “They’re my friends. I love to go down to the kitchen and tell stories. We’ll talk about our families and our hobbies. My whole life has been the fire department. I have my blood family, but this is my other family.”A Lone Tree native, Trexel moved to Burlington with his father when he was a junior in high school. His father moved to attend gun-smithing school at Southeastern Community College.Though he didn’t grow up here, Trexel felt at home in Burlington and wanted to stay. He worked at Godfather’s Pizza during the summer and graduated from Burlington High School the following year.Trexel went to school with his future wife, and they connected while working at Godfather’s Pizza. He entered the U.S. Marine Corps after high school in 1989.“I decided to follow my dad’s footsteps since he was in the Marines,” Trexel said.Trexel then started working as a correctional officer in Mount Pleasant. He had plans to become a police officer and work part-time as a security guard while taking criminal justice classes at SCC. He ended up working at the Burlington Fire Department.Trexel did his best to choke back tears during his retirement speech Monday at the Burlington City Council meeting.“I’ve loved this job. I found meaning in it,” he said.It took Trexel four years to get hired. The employment scene was quite different in the 90s. Unlike now, police and fire agencies had far more applicants than they could use.“I had no firefighting or EMS experience, and there were a ton of people. I don’t remember exactly how many, but there were a lot of people that applied, and that’s kind of why I think it took so long,” Trexel said.Life in the fire department is quite a bit different now than it was then. The 24-hour shifts are still mandatory, but the firefighters’ sleep time is much looser now.“Back then, it was very regimented. You went in at 5 o’clock and you made your bed in the dorm room. Then, at 9 o’clock, you could go to bed,” Trexel said.Things are busier for the fire department now – partially because of Iowa’s aging population. Catching shut-eye is more a matter of convenience than ceremony now.&nbsp;The fire department also serves more areas than it used to, such as Henderson County.“If it’s 2 in the afternoon and we have a slow period, you can go in there and take a nap. You were way more likely to get some sleep back then,” Trexel said.Trexel is closing down a 27-year career at the department and spent the first eight years as a general firefighter/paramedic. From there, he was promoted to captain and then battalion chief.“I did a lot of training the first eight years, going to EMT school, going to paramedic school. Getting all the firefighter training,” he said.Becoming captain put Trexel in a training role, and captains get to go out on most of the fire calls. As fire chief, Trexel makes his way to nearly every fire call he can.He likes to joke that of all the big fires he fought, he missed the biggest one — the night First United Methodist Church burned to the ground.“That was the one fire I was out of town for,” he said. “I was in an officer class in Des Moines.”Other standout fires include the Horace Mann Middle School Fire, the Tama Building fire, and a lumberyard fire.“I remember pulling up there (the lumberyard), and it was a huge inferno. It melted some of the gauges on our trucks. It was my first time where it was an all-nighter, you know, we’re out there all night. We’re back the next day, you know, mopping up things,” Trexel said. “You just don’t forget those kind of calls.”Trexel became fire chief in December of 2012 while juggling a personal life that consists of a happy marriage with four children – including an adopted daughter from Ethiopia. He even has a grandson now.“My kids are all grown adults now,” Trexel said.Trexel also wants to spend more time with his grandson before he becomes full-grown. Being a fire chief is a 24/7 position. Downtime is precious and often unavailable.Despite that, Trexel was able to accomplish the most significant task of the year before retiring – pushing through a bond referendum for a third fire station. The voting public overwhelmingly agreed with the need for a new station, though Trexel will no longer be with the fire department by the time it’s built.He’s okay with that. He’s lived one life for the fire department. Now, he’s going to live another life for his family. And he may just fit some hunting in there.“I am more a watcher than a hunter these days,” he said with a laugh. “I just like to sit in the stand.”

52 Faces: A life of service 

Innovaire Primary Health opened its doors in downtown Burlington seven weeks ago — the only private primary care practice not associated with Great River Health.

Since then, DNP (doctor nurse practitioner) Angela Hedges has welcomed dozens of new patients into the clinic.

She has only one rule for first-time appointments.

&nbsp;“That first appointment’s an hour. I’m the one that checks you in. You won’t even see my nurses. I think it’s important to get the upfront work on top of just knowing their background,” she said.

Hedges has been a nurse — and more recently a DNP— for over 20 years and quickly learned the golden rule when treating patients.

The better you know them, the more accurate and helpful the treatment can be. Hedges learned that from one of her mentors — Dr. JoEllen Hoth, who practiced medicine in Burlington for over 50 years. She ended her career in the same building Hedges now occupies.

In 1978, Dr. Hoth and urologists Roderick Kellogg, MD, and Herbert Tjaden, MD, partnered to buy the former Christian Science church at 515 N. Third St.

Dr. Hoth’s clinic occupied the first floor, and Hedges became a massive fan of her incredibly detailed patient reports. She loved reading them as a nurse and strives to bring that same attention to detail to her office.

“She knew everything about every patient that she has ever had,” Hedges said. “She knew their aunts, their cousins, their sisters,” she said. “So I feel very blessed to be in the same space as her.”

Hedges isn’t afraid of hard work or setbacks. She was a nurse at Great River Health for years and spent some time as a traveling nurse during the COVID-19 epidemic.

Hedges worked at a limited hospital in Brooklyn, N.Y., for a month during her travel nurse stint. She will never forget the refrigerated trucks full of dead bodies that were waiting for a place to take them.

“Times Square was just empty. All the ER nurses at the hospital were out with COVID,” she said, noting she didn’t catch COVID until she returned to Iowa.

Setting up a private practice – from remodeling the interior of the building to setting up a payment system — is likely the most challenging thing Hedges has done. She purchased the building three years ago and has been setting up the practice for the past three years.

She said it wouldn’t have been possible without her office manager, Misty Harris. Misty has a head for the financial side of the practice, from insurance to billing.

“I always say she is the reason I opened as soon as I did,” Hedges said.

Innovaire Primary Health opened just as Great River Health announced that it was changing its billing system, which led to higher costs for some patients. Harris said that has positively impacted her business, but so far, most of her patients have signed up for reasons outside of finances.

“I have had some patients that came in because they want to know exactly what they’re paying up front. But I have a lot that just wanted to come because they wanted something a little different. A different look to health care. I think that’s been the majority of the patients I’ve gotten,” she said.

That different look Hedges mentioned revolves around improving a patient’s overall wellness so they won’t have to visit the doctor as often.

“The goal is to get them well. That’s the goal here, is to not have them sick all the time,” Hedges said.

Hedges offers more open options for treatment and prevention, combining Eastern and Western medicine. Her expertise is in Western medicine, which gives her the adaptability to cater to care for a wide range of patients.

In Hedges’ opinion, poor eating habits are the most significant detriment to patient health. But she said those can be hard to break in the Midwest, where options for healthy food are more limited than in heavily populated areas.

She said many food problems — from obesity to food allergies — could be solved if fewer additives were incorporated into American food.

“I’m thinking outside the box a little bit. A lot of times, that’s just sitting down and listening to patients and really hearing them,” Hedges said.

Hedges was born and raised in West Burlington and graduated from West Burlington High School. She was drawn to nursing at a young age and interned at the Southeast Iowa Regional Medical Center before becoming a nurse.

“I took a management job on the floor and then ended up moving to critical care,&nbsp; which is kind of my background, and was managing the critical care unit,” she said.

Hedges thought about becoming a DNP early in her career but wasn’t quite ready yet. However, she returned to school while working as a nurse and went into a doctorate program.

“I knew three years of my life had to be dedicated full-time to it,” she said. “I had clinicals everywhere. I did a few out at the hospital here but was up in Marion, too. I came and went from the hospital off and on for 20 years. It was my home.”

Despite her long working hours, Hedges did find time to start a family. She married a farmer north of Mediapolis, and they had three children. They now range in age from 25 to 16.

Right now, Hedges’s only competition comes from Great River Health and the practices associated with the organization. She wants as many patients as possible but pointed out that healthcare is a very personal decision.

It might not suit her bottom line, but Hedges wants people to visit a doctor they feel comfortable with — wherever that might be. She would also like more private practices like hers to spring up to give locals more options.

“It’s great for health care and for people in general,” she said.

Being a small, private practice, Innovaire does not accept Medicare or Medicaid. The reimbursement rates for the practice are simply too low and untenable for a small business.

She said those covered under the Affordable Care Act or other insurance companies should be fine. Misty is always at the front of the clinic to answer any financial questions.

Right now, Hedges is the only doctor at the clinic. However, that will change when a male doctor joins the clinic to focus on men’s health next year. Hedges focuses on women’s health but notes that neither doctor is restricted to treating a specific gender.

Down the line, Hedges would like to expand services by adding a mental health clinician.

Those are big plans, but Hedges has already proven she can handle big projects. The hard part is done.

“This is a wellness place, too, and we have a lot of fun things coming,” she said.

<figure>
 <img src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/burlington-beacon-media-bucket/public/2024/12/1734319918647.jpeg" alt="Photo by John Lovretta" />
 <figcaption>Photo by John Lovretta</figcaption>
 </figure>By William SmithInnovaire Primary Health opened its doors in downtown Burlington seven weeks ago — the only private primary care practice not associated with Great River Health.Since then, DNP (doctor nurse practitioner) Angela Hedges has welcomed dozens of new patients into the clinic.She has only one rule for first-time appointments.&nbsp;“That first appointment’s an hour. I’m the one that checks you in. You won’t even see my nurses. I think it’s important to get the upfront work on top of just knowing their background,” she said.Hedges has been a nurse — and more recently a DNP— for over 20 years and quickly learned the golden rule when treating patients.The better you know them, the more accurate and helpful the treatment can be. Hedges learned that from one of her mentors — Dr. JoEllen Hoth, who practiced medicine in Burlington for over 50 years. She ended her career in the same building Hedges now occupies.In 1978, Dr. Hoth and urologists Roderick Kellogg, MD, and Herbert Tjaden, MD, partnered to buy the former Christian Science church at 515 N. Third St.Dr. Hoth’s clinic occupied the first floor, and Hedges became a massive fan of her incredibly detailed patient reports. She loved reading them as a nurse and strives to bring that same attention to detail to her office.“She knew everything about every patient that she has ever had,” Hedges said. “She knew their aunts, their cousins, their sisters,” she said. “So I feel very blessed to be in the same space as her.”Private PracticeHedges isn’t afraid of hard work or setbacks. She was a nurse at Great River Health for years and spent some time as a traveling nurse during the COVID-19 epidemic.Hedges worked at a limited hospital in Brooklyn, N.Y., for a month during her travel nurse stint. She will never forget the refrigerated trucks full of dead bodies that were waiting for a place to take them.“Times Square was just empty. All the ER nurses at the hospital were out with COVID,” she said, noting she didn’t catch COVID until she returned to Iowa.Setting up a private practice – from remodeling the interior of the building to setting up a payment system — is likely the most challenging thing Hedges has done. She purchased the building three years ago and has been setting up the practice for the past three years.She said it wouldn’t have been possible without her office manager, Misty Harris. Misty has a head for the financial side of the practice, from insurance to billing.“I always say she is the reason I opened as soon as I did,” Hedges said.Innovaire Primary Health opened just as Great River Health announced that it was changing its billing system, which led to higher costs for some patients. Harris said that has positively impacted her business, but so far, most of her patients have signed up for reasons outside of finances.“I have had some patients that came in because they want to know exactly what they’re paying up front. But I have a lot that just wanted to come because they wanted something a little different. A different look to health care. I think that’s been the majority of the patients I’ve gotten,” she said.A Focus on WellnessThat different look Hedges mentioned revolves around improving a patient’s overall wellness so they won’t have to visit the doctor as often.“The goal is to get them well. That’s the goal here, is to not have them sick all the time,” Hedges said.Hedges offers more open options for treatment and prevention, combining Eastern and Western medicine. Her expertise is in Western medicine, which gives her the adaptability to cater to care for a wide range of patients.In Hedges’ opinion, poor eating habits are the most significant detriment to patient health. But she said those can be hard to break in the Midwest, where options for healthy food are more limited than in heavily populated areas.She said many food problems — from obesity to food allergies — could be solved if fewer additives were incorporated into American food.“I’m thinking outside the box a little bit. A lot of times, that’s just sitting down and listening to patients and really hearing them,” Hedges said.A Homegrown DoctorHedges was born and raised in West Burlington and graduated from West Burlington High School. She was drawn to nursing at a young age and interned at the Southeast Iowa Regional Medical Center before becoming a nurse.“I took a management job on the floor and then ended up moving to critical care,&nbsp; which is kind of my background, and was managing the critical care unit,” she said.Hedges thought about becoming a DNP early in her career but wasn’t quite ready yet. However, she returned to school while working as a nurse and went into a doctorate program.“I knew three years of my life had to be dedicated full-time to it,” she said. “I had clinicals everywhere. I did a few out at the hospital here but was up in Marion, too. I came and went from the hospital off and on for 20 years. It was my home.”Despite her long working hours, Hedges did find time to start a family. She married a farmer north of Mediapolis, and they had three children. They now range in age from 25 to 16.CompetitionRight now, Hedges’s only competition comes from Great River Health and the practices associated with the organization. She wants as many patients as possible but pointed out that healthcare is a very personal decision.It might not suit her bottom line, but Hedges wants people to visit a doctor they feel comfortable with — wherever that might be. She would also like more private practices like hers to spring up to give locals more options.“It’s great for health care and for people in general,” she said.Being a small, private practice, Innovaire does not accept Medicare or Medicaid. The reimbursement rates for the practice are simply too low and untenable for a small business.She said those covered under the Affordable Care Act or other insurance companies should be fine. Misty is always at the front of the clinic to answer any financial questions.Right now, Hedges is the only doctor at the clinic. However, that will change when a male doctor joins the clinic to focus on men’s health next year. Hedges focuses on women’s health but notes that neither doctor is restricted to treating a specific gender.Down the line, Hedges would like to expand services by adding a mental health clinician.Those are big plans, but Hedges has already proven she can handle big projects. The hard part is done.Now, the healing begins.“This is a wellness place, too, and we have a lot of fun things coming,” she said.

52 Faces: A fresh approach

Wherever he looks inside Mundt Piano and Organ, Bill Mundt Jr. sees his late father — Bill Mundt Sr.

He remembers the numerous hours he spent working alongside his father, traveling as far as Keosauqua to tune pianos alongside him.

Bill Jr. didn’t go to school to learn the art of tuning. He was already busy attending junior high. He learned on the job.

&nbsp;“My dad started waking me up at 14 on Saturdays and said, ‘You’re coming to work,’ ” he said.

The history of Mundt Piano and Organ stretches back to Bill’s great-grandfather, who came to the U.S. from Germany to tune pianos. That soon became a business.

“He started the piano service. For years, it was just a service business. And then my grandpa opened the retail when he was 61,” Bill said.

Bill was born in Burlington in 1954 and was not thrilled about going into the family business when he was a teenager.

“I wanted to be a Major League Baseball player. But I realized if you don’t make the local high school team, you’re probably not going to make a Major League team,” he said.

But then something strange happened as Bill worked on pianos. He started to like it. That led to piano lessons –&nbsp; though Bill would never consider himself a musician — more of a hobbyist.

“I played the piano a little bit; when the organ business was good, I liked that. I played quite a bit so I could demonstrate the pianos,” Bill said.

The store itself hopped around Burlington for decades, moving to a new location every few years. It finally settled at its current location on Jefferson Street.

Bill still remembers specific conversations with his father in the break room. He treasures the years he spent working side-by-side with Bill Sr. When Bill got older and bought his own house, his father spent every free moment helping him renovate it.

“In all those years, I think we only got into an argument a few times. Whatever it was, it was forgotten the next day,” Bill said.

Those days didn’t last forever. Bill took over after his father passed, working six days a week tuning pianos and running the store. The 1980s was a strong era for music sales of any kind, and Mundt sold everything you needed to make music. Clarinets, pianos, organs, guitars. He still does.

However, the piano market has shrunk considerably over the past few decades, and the organ market is nonexistent. Mundt said he was able to survive the downturn through diversifying. His biggest moneymaker comes through instrument rentals for local students.

There are at least a couple of hundred Mundt instruments in students’ hands right now. The instruments are tuned and serviced every time they return to the store, giving Mundt’s an advantage over retail stores with no service plan.

“We take care of all routine maintenance unless, your kid hit his sister over the head with the trombone,” Mundt said with a laugh. “We don’t cover that.”

Despite working nearly every day, Bill’s personal life was just as full as his business. He got married, got divorced, and got custody of his three children. Raising three children at the ages of eight, five, and four wasn’t easy, and Bill remarried a woman with three kids of her own.

“People used to call us The Brady Bunch,” he said, laughing again.

That marriage later ended, but Bill only had kind words about both his ex-wives.

“I don’t regret any of it,” he said.

Bill’s heart was scarred more profoundly by the loss of his son, who died of cancer. Just like his father, Bill worked alongside his son every day.

“It was a tumor up here,” Bill said, pointing to his head. “They couldn’t operate on it. It wasn’t even a tumor. It (the cancer) was just all spread out.”

These days, Bill is semi-retired and is having the time of his life. He joined some local pool leagues after his kids grew up and moved out. He also installed a gym on the bottom floor of the shop, which he treats like a second home.

“I can’t just sit around at the house and do nothing,” he said. “I’m still having fun.”

<figure>
 <img src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/burlington-beacon-media-bucket/public/2024/12/1733799463225.jpeg" alt="Photo by John Lovretta" />
 <figcaption>Photo by John Lovretta</figcaption>
 </figure>By William SmithWherever he looks inside Mundt Piano and Organ, Bill Mundt Jr. sees his late father — Bill Mundt Sr.He remembers the numerous hours he spent working alongside his father, traveling as far as Keosauqua to tune pianos alongside him.Bill Jr. didn’t go to school to learn the art of tuning. He was already busy attending junior high. He learned on the job.&nbsp;“My dad started waking me up at 14 on Saturdays and said, ‘You’re coming to work,’ ” he said.The history of Mundt Piano and Organ stretches back to Bill’s great-grandfather, who came to the U.S. from Germany to tune pianos. That soon became a business.“He started the piano service. For years, it was just a service business. And then my grandpa opened the retail when he was 61,” Bill said.Bill was born in Burlington in 1954 and was not thrilled about going into the family business when he was a teenager.“I wanted to be a Major League Baseball player. But I realized if you don’t make the local high school team, you’re probably not going to make a Major League team,” he said.But then something strange happened as Bill worked on pianos. He started to like it. That led to piano lessons –&nbsp; though Bill would never consider himself a musician — more of a hobbyist.“I played the piano a little bit; when the organ business was good, I liked that. I played quite a bit so I could demonstrate the pianos,” Bill said.The store itself hopped around Burlington for decades, moving to a new location every few years. It finally settled at its current location on Jefferson Street.Bill still remembers specific conversations with his father in the break room. He treasures the years he spent working side-by-side with Bill Sr. When Bill got older and bought his own house, his father spent every free moment helping him renovate it.“In all those years, I think we only got into an argument a few times. Whatever it was, it was forgotten the next day,” Bill said.Those days didn’t last forever. Bill took over after his father passed, working six days a week tuning pianos and running the store. The 1980s was a strong era for music sales of any kind, and Mundt sold everything you needed to make music. Clarinets, pianos, organs, guitars. He still does.However, the piano market has shrunk considerably over the past few decades, and the organ market is nonexistent. Mundt said he was able to survive the downturn through diversifying. His biggest moneymaker comes through instrument rentals for local students.There are at least a couple of hundred Mundt instruments in students’ hands right now. The instruments are tuned and serviced every time they return to the store, giving Mundt’s an advantage over retail stores with no service plan.“We take care of all routine maintenance unless, your kid hit his sister over the head with the trombone,” Mundt said with a laugh. “We don’t cover that.”Despite working nearly every day, Bill’s personal life was just as full as his business. He got married, got divorced, and got custody of his three children. Raising three children at the ages of eight, five, and four wasn’t easy, and Bill remarried a woman with three kids of her own.“People used to call us The Brady Bunch,” he said, laughing again.That marriage later ended, but Bill only had kind words about both his ex-wives.“I don’t regret any of it,” he said.Bill’s heart was scarred more profoundly by the loss of his son, who died of cancer. Just like his father, Bill worked alongside his son every day.“It was a tumor up here,” Bill said, pointing to his head. “They couldn’t operate on it. It wasn’t even a tumor. It (the cancer) was just all spread out.”These days, Bill is semi-retired and is having the time of his life. He joined some local pool leagues after his kids grew up and moved out. He also installed a gym on the bottom floor of the shop, which he treats like a second home.“I can’t just sit around at the house and do nothing,” he said. “I’m still having fun.”

52 Faces: A legacy  in tune

Lawrence DuCharme was surrounded by hundreds of potatoes Tuesday morning inside the St. Vincent DePaul Food Pantry — and he couldn’t have been happier.

Each potato will find its way to the hands of a local person in need. But that’s just a side dish. For over a century, the St. Vincent DePaul Food Pantry has provided every kind of food a family could need.

DuCharme, who heads up the pantry, started volunteering for the organization about a year ago. He had retired from a long career at CNH (Case New Holland) and was looking for a way to give back.

He never imagined that a local organization like St. Vincent DePaul would have such an intricate network of volunteers. He was stunned – and impressed.

“I became very interested when I realized just how big of an operation it was and how many families it served. We’re serving people who maybe don’t have a good source of food. I felt like it was doing some good for the community,” he said.

The pantry, one of about a dozen in Burlington and the largest, exists entirely through a network of 70 volunteers. The pantry is open 1 to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday to local families who meet income requirements.

“We use the same income requirements the Food Bank of Iowa uses,” DuCharme said.

About 70 percent of the food in the pantry is purchased at cost through the Food Bank of Iowa, which supplies hundreds of other pantries across the state. The rest comes from donations or direct purchases by the pantry to fill any food gaps. Clients are allowed to get food once a month.

DuCharme puts in about 20 hours a week, and some of the other volunteers put in as much as 10 to 20 hours a week. That’s not counting all the special helpers, like the Boy Scouts.

The pantry used to operate out of the church basement but was moved upstairs to a parish building after the COVID-19 pandemic. The need for local families grows monthly and has become even more significant since the pandemic.

“Last year, we served over 7,700 families. That’s over 600 a month. Last year, we saw a continued growth of need, and this year, we’ve seen the same thing,” DuCharme said. “It looks like we’re going to have another record year.”

DuCharme moved to Burlington six years ago with his wife and three children. He was born and grew up in Wisconsin, and he worked for CNH there before taking a job at the Burlington plant in 2016.

DuCharme has the pantry running like a finely tuned automobile. A network of 70 volunteers ensures that the pantry never goes unattended. During shopping hours, about a dozen volunteers work to fill carts from tables stacked with food items. Taller stacks of food boxes sit behind the tables, allowing volunteers to re-stock the tables as they go.

“We have nine different bread teams. Their job is to every day go to the two Hy-Vee stores, pick up whatever day-old bread they’re donating. I’ve got a team of folks that come in just to help with food bank delivery. We get that twice a month, so I’ve got a team for that. I’ve got a couple of teams that pick up Walmart a couple times a week. I’ve got five different teams, one for each day of the week, for distribution. Then I’ve got a few extra individuals that help me with ordering and stocking and those types of things,” DuCharme said.

A walk-in freezer makes it possible to meet the protein demands of clients, and all clients get extra food in December — a benefit that replaces the Christmas food baskets the organization used to put together.

The joy of giving to others practically makes DuCharme giddy – but he isn’t the only one. Frank Paolo has also volunteered at the St. Vincent DePaul Food Pantry for over 20 years. He still hasn’t grown tired of it.

“I got into it because one of my buddies was working here,” he said.&nbsp;

“It actually makes you feel good because you’re getting to be a part of the community. And when you get as old as I am, you’ve got to find things to do.”

Though he’s been at the pantry much longer, Paolo has seen the same increase in need as DuCharme. He’s just seen it growing since he arrived two decades ago.

“Instead of getting better, it’s getting worse,” he said.

Paolo is surprised to see people he knows using the food pantry. People he thought would never have to. He hasn’t had to use the pantry himself and thanks God for his good fortune.

DuCharme has made a few tweaks to the organization in his year as president and has enjoyed welcoming new volunteers into the food pantry.

He hopes to welcome many more. Feeding the hungry is a job that never ends — it just gets passed on. DuCharme is delighted he picked up the baton.

“It’s been very fulfilling,” he said.

The St. Vincent DePaul Food Pantry on Division Street is open from 1 to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday.

<figure>
 <img src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/burlington-beacon-media-bucket/public/2024/11/1732488955601.jpeg" alt="Photo by John Lovretta" />
 <figcaption>Photo by John Lovretta</figcaption>
 </figure>By William SmithLawrence DuCharme was surrounded by hundreds of potatoes Tuesday morning inside the St. Vincent DePaul Food Pantry — and he couldn’t have been happier.Each potato will find its way to the hands of a local person in need. But that’s just a side dish. For over a century, the St. Vincent DePaul Food Pantry has provided every kind of food a family could need.DuCharme, who heads up the pantry, started volunteering for the organization about a year ago. He had retired from a long career at CNH (Case New Holland) and was looking for a way to give back.He never imagined that a local organization like St. Vincent DePaul would have such an intricate network of volunteers. He was stunned – and impressed.“I became very interested when I realized just how big of an operation it was and how many families it served. We’re serving people who maybe don’t have a good source of food. I felt like it was doing some good for the community,” he said.The pantry, one of about a dozen in Burlington and the largest, exists entirely through a network of 70 volunteers. The pantry is open 1 to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday to local families who meet income requirements.“We use the same income requirements the Food Bank of Iowa uses,” DuCharme said.About 70 percent of the food in the pantry is purchased at cost through the Food Bank of Iowa, which supplies hundreds of other pantries across the state. The rest comes from donations or direct purchases by the pantry to fill any food gaps. Clients are allowed to get food once a month.DuCharme puts in about 20 hours a week, and some of the other volunteers put in as much as 10 to 20 hours a week. That’s not counting all the special helpers, like the Boy Scouts.The pantry used to operate out of the church basement but was moved upstairs to a parish building after the COVID-19 pandemic. The need for local families grows monthly and has become even more significant since the pandemic.“Last year, we served over 7,700 families. That’s over 600 a month. Last year, we saw a continued growth of need, and this year, we’ve seen the same thing,” DuCharme said. “It looks like we’re going to have another record year.”DuCharme moved to Burlington six years ago with his wife and three children. He was born and grew up in Wisconsin, and he worked for CNH there before taking a job at the Burlington plant in 2016.DuCharme has the pantry running like a finely tuned automobile. A network of 70 volunteers ensures that the pantry never goes unattended. During shopping hours, about a dozen volunteers work to fill carts from tables stacked with food items. Taller stacks of food boxes sit behind the tables, allowing volunteers to re-stock the tables as they go.“We have nine different bread teams. Their job is to every day go to the two Hy-Vee stores, pick up whatever day-old bread they’re donating. I’ve got a team of folks that come in just to help with food bank delivery. We get that twice a month, so I’ve got a team for that. I’ve got a couple of teams that pick up Walmart a couple times a week. I’ve got five different teams, one for each day of the week, for distribution. Then I’ve got a few extra individuals that help me with ordering and stocking and those types of things,” DuCharme said.A walk-in freezer makes it possible to meet the protein demands of clients, and all clients get extra food in December — a benefit that replaces the Christmas food baskets the organization used to put together.The joy of giving to others practically makes DuCharme giddy – but he isn’t the only one. Frank Paolo has also volunteered at the St. Vincent DePaul Food Pantry for over 20 years. He still hasn’t grown tired of it.“I got into it because one of my buddies was working here,” he said.&nbsp;“It actually makes you feel good because you’re getting to be a part of the community. And when you get as old as I am, you’ve got to find things to do.”Though he’s been at the pantry much longer, Paolo has seen the same increase in need as DuCharme. He’s just seen it growing since he arrived two decades ago.“Instead of getting better, it’s getting worse,” he said.Paolo is surprised to see people he knows using the food pantry. People he thought would never have to. He hasn’t had to use the pantry himself and thanks God for his good fortune.“It just blows my mind,” he said.DuCharme has made a few tweaks to the organization in his year as president and has enjoyed welcoming new volunteers into the food pantry.He hopes to welcome many more. Feeding the hungry is a job that never ends — it just gets passed on. DuCharme is delighted he picked up the baton.“It’s been very fulfilling,” he said.The St. Vincent DePaul Food Pantry on Division Street is open from 1 to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday.

52 Faces: A hunger for helping

Burlington Vintage &amp; Co., owner Chelsea Stevens knows the difference between shopping and browsing.

She sees that difference in her customers’ faces. Relaxed smiles and kind words that spill from their lips. They aren’t just there to look at the antique merchandise.

As Stevens put it, they want to be with their people.

&nbsp;“If you want to feel what it felt like decades ago, before the Internet, shopping small brings you back there. It’s just people again, you know — the best parts of people. We don’t argue in real life like we do online,” she said.

Stevens loves people more than the various “antiques” that decorate her shop. She uses the word “antique” loosely. These days, old-fashioned stereos and record players fit the bill. The word “vintage” covers a broader swath of nostalgia — anything 20 years old or older.

“So you get people that come in here, and they find their yearbooks, and that’s always really funny. Because they’re like, ‘Oh, my gosh, I’m in a shop, and my yearbook is here,’ ” Stevens said.

Most of the items in the shop — the ones that need it — are refurbished by Stevens. She has four sons who help run a train museum in the downstairs portion of the building. Most items come from local sellers, but Stevens and her family like to stock up at auctions and estate sales.

“My 16-year-old, he just gets filthy digging through all that stuff at sales,” Stevens said.

Stevens was just like him at her age. She grew up in Argyle – a small Lee County town about 45 minutes outside of Burlington – and moved to Burlington at the age of 12. That’s when she started attending Notre Dame and met her future husband there.

“We started dating my senior year of high school,” she said.

Chelsea’s mother and local business owner, Becky Anderson, also has a passion for rehabilitation and led a capital campaign to restore the once-defunct Capitol Theater.

“When we first moved here, my mom bought a super dilapidated house. She refinished the whole house and made it beautiful. So it was kind of in my upbringing —&nbsp; taking the things that other people didn’t want and making them desirable again,” Stevens said.

Despite her knack for restoration, Chelsea didn’t consider it a career. She was interested in advertising coming out of high school — an interest that dampened once she started college.

“I didn’t know how good I would be at it if I’m not excited about the product that I’m supposed to advertise. So then I ended up switching to economics because I like numbers and I like business,” she said.

Chelsea held several jobs and was interested in becoming a city planner. She interned for the city, just as current parks and recreation development director Eric Tysland was starting his job for the city.

As life moved on and Stevens grew her family, she stumbled upon an old hobby — a hobby she could use to turn a buck.

“When my children were little, and I was looking for furniture for their room, I didn’t want to spend hundreds of dollars on a new piece of furniture that was fake wood,” Stevens said. “You could get a solid wood dresser for $5. It might need to be scrubbed, it might need painted, it might need refinished. But I had the time to do that because I could do that with the kids.”

So Stevens started flipping furniture from home and selling it on Facebook. Ironically enough, it was similar to how she operated during the pandemic. She would refurbish a piece for a customer, then have them pick it up on the sidewalk.

Stevens has long been fascinated with Burlington and has applied that focus to her shop. Many of the items have a specific Burlington connection.&nbsp;

The building itself has housed many businesses before, including an upholstery store and the Happy Mutant bike shop.

Stevens just happened to know the owner of the building.

“My mom owns this building, and this space opened up. So she and some friends kind of pushed me into it,” she said.

That was eight years ago. What started as an experiment has become a vital ventricle of downtown Burlington’s beating heart.

“I feel like small business owners are just an interesting group of people because they put all into what their interest is. I just think that’s fun,” she said.

<figure>
 <img src="https://s3.amazonaws.com/burlington-beacon-media-bucket/public/2024/11/1732488851049.jpeg" alt="Photo by John Lovretta" />
 <figcaption>Photo by John Lovretta</figcaption>
 </figure>By William SmithBurlington Vintage &amp; Co., owner Chelsea Stevens knows the difference between shopping and browsing.She sees that difference in her customers’ faces. Relaxed smiles and kind words that spill from their lips. They aren’t just there to look at the antique merchandise.As Stevens put it, they want to be with their people.&nbsp;“If you want to feel what it felt like decades ago, before the Internet, shopping small brings you back there. It’s just people again, you know — the best parts of people. We don’t argue in real life like we do online,” she said.Stevens loves people more than the various “antiques” that decorate her shop. She uses the word “antique” loosely. These days, old-fashioned stereos and record players fit the bill. The word “vintage” covers a broader swath of nostalgia — anything 20 years old or older.“So you get people that come in here, and they find their yearbooks, and that’s always really funny. Because they’re like, ‘Oh, my gosh, I’m in a shop, and my yearbook is here,’ ” Stevens said.Most of the items in the shop — the ones that need it — are refurbished by Stevens. She has four sons who help run a train museum in the downstairs portion of the building. Most items come from local sellers, but Stevens and her family like to stock up at auctions and estate sales.“My 16-year-old, he just gets filthy digging through all that stuff at sales,” Stevens said.Stevens was just like him at her age. She grew up in Argyle – a small Lee County town about 45 minutes outside of Burlington – and moved to Burlington at the age of 12. That’s when she started attending Notre Dame and met her future husband there.“We started dating my senior year of high school,” she said.Chelsea’s mother and local business owner, Becky Anderson, also has a passion for rehabilitation and led a capital campaign to restore the once-defunct Capitol Theater.“When we first moved here, my mom bought a super dilapidated house. She refinished the whole house and made it beautiful. So it was kind of in my upbringing —&nbsp; taking the things that other people didn’t want and making them desirable again,” Stevens said.Despite her knack for restoration, Chelsea didn’t consider it a career. She was interested in advertising coming out of high school — an interest that dampened once she started college.“I didn’t know how good I would be at it if I’m not excited about the product that I’m supposed to advertise. So then I ended up switching to economics because I like numbers and I like business,” she said.Chelsea held several jobs and was interested in becoming a city planner. She interned for the city, just as current parks and recreation development director Eric Tysland was starting his job for the city.“I learned a lot,” she said.As life moved on and Stevens grew her family, she stumbled upon an old hobby — a hobby she could use to turn a buck.“When my children were little, and I was looking for furniture for their room, I didn’t want to spend hundreds of dollars on a new piece of furniture that was fake wood,” Stevens said. “You could get a solid wood dresser for $5. It might need to be scrubbed, it might need painted, it might need refinished. But I had the time to do that because I could do that with the kids.”So Stevens started flipping furniture from home and selling it on Facebook. Ironically enough, it was similar to how she operated during the pandemic. She would refurbish a piece for a customer, then have them pick it up on the sidewalk.Stevens has long been fascinated with Burlington and has applied that focus to her shop. Many of the items have a specific Burlington connection.&nbsp;The building itself has housed many businesses before, including an upholstery store and the Happy Mutant bike shop.Stevens just happened to know the owner of the building.“My mom owns this building, and this space opened up. So she and some friends kind of pushed me into it,” she said.That was eight years ago. What started as an experiment has become a vital ventricle of downtown Burlington’s beating heart.Stevens has found her people.“I feel like small business owners are just an interesting group of people because they put all into what their interest is. I just think that’s fun,” she said.

52 Faces: Shopping small, smiling big

The West Burlington School District doesn’t have a combined elementary and high school. The two schools are separated by just a few blocks, each with its own roster of teachers.

But Jeremy Henman, the new band director of the West Burlington Junior High and High School, has been teaching some of the same students for six years straight.

“It has such a joyous experience, getting to teach them,” Henman said.

Henman took on the role of band director at the high school at the beginning of the year, but taught music at West Burlington Elementary for six years prior to that. That means that he will have taught music to some West Burlington students for the entirety of their school experience once they graduate.

“I was very fortunate to get a job at the elementary,” Henman said.

By the age of five, Henman knew he wanted to be a trumpet player. Before getting a real trumpet, he carried a toy version everywhere. By the time he was in high school, Henman knew he wanted to be a musician — and possibly a teacher.

“I went into college thinking I wanted to be a jazz trumpet player,” Henman said. “Then, early on in college, I get exposed to a lot more orchestral music and found a love for the classical side of the trumpet.”

Unlike many of his peers, who pined for a life far away from their hometown, Henman wanted to come back home and teach. He applied for every job in pretty much every state he could and jumped at the elementary music teacher job when it became available.

As a Burlington High School graduate, he also found it a bit ironic. He credits BHS band director Derrick Murphy, who is still teaching, for helping to expand his love of music.

“That was kind of a neat thing for me, going through college and getting my degree and then getting to come back home to teach where I grew up,” he said.

Henman’s future was always going to be dictated by music. Both of his parents are accomplished singers, and all three of his older siblings went through band and choir, as did he.

Before taking the music job at West Burlington, Henman was hesitant to teach younger children. He has no children and recalls how his first pack of kindergartners trampled his plans on the first day.

But Henman learned, and so did the kids. Like any good music teacher, Henman’s ultimate goal is simple: to instill a student’s love of music.

Everything that follows is a natural extension of the students’ interest. Band is an elective in high school, so Henman now has the luxury of teaching students who want to be in the music room. They like talking about music theory and improving their skills.

“I’m able to get them to think even more critically about the music they’re creating. We’ll be rehearsing, and I’ll cut them off, and I’ll ask them, ‘What instrument has the melody here?’ And you’ve got some students who are paying attention, who’ve been listening not just to their own part but to the entire ensemble. And they’re able to pick out,” Henman said.

Now that he’s settled into high school, Henman is laying the groundwork for a long-term project.&nbsp;

He wants to increase the size of West Burlington’s marching band and its exposure and importance — perhaps even competitive contests someday.

But to do that, he needs interested students. Most of his band students have expressed disinterest in marching band, but Henman has found a middle ground at the school’s Friday night football games.

“I like to call it a Friday night football band,” he said. “We are there specifically to build the school spirit for the football games.”

The West Burlington-Notre Dame football team won its first-ever playoff game last Friday. Henman’s students celebrated with their synchronous instruments.

“It was such an exciting experience, getting to play for a playoff game. I think it was great for the students to witness a bit of school history,” Henman said.

Despite the hours he spends teaching others, Henman has always maintained his passion for the trumpet. Of course, he doesn’t play for the money.

“A lot of my students, they think, ‘Well, after I graduate high school, I’m done with music,” he said.

Burlington and the surrounding area are pretty musical, and Henman has found plenty of opportunity for this trumpet.&nbsp;

He plays with the Southeast Iowa Symphony Orchestra, the Burlington Municipal Band, and several other organizations,&nbsp; including a salsa band he just joined.

Henman has everything he could want, and it was always just a few miles from his doorstep. It takes some a lifetime to realize their heart is at home.&nbsp;

Henman had it figured out before he ever started.

“I’m happy where I’m at. I really love teaching in West Burlington,” he said.

<figure>
 <img src="https://d2eftiauov6o73.cloudfront.net/public/2024/11/1731221597781.jpeg" alt="Photo by John Lovretta" />
 <figcaption>Photo by John Lovretta</figcaption>
 </figure>By William SmithThe West Burlington School District doesn’t have a combined elementary and high school. The two schools are separated by just a few blocks, each with its own roster of teachers.But Jeremy Henman, the new band director of the West Burlington Junior High and High School, has been teaching some of the same students for six years straight.“It has such a joyous experience, getting to teach them,” Henman said.Henman took on the role of band director at the high school at the beginning of the year, but taught music at West Burlington Elementary for six years prior to that. That means that he will have taught music to some West Burlington students for the entirety of their school experience once they graduate.“I was very fortunate to get a job at the elementary,” Henman said.By the age of five, Henman knew he wanted to be a trumpet player. Before getting a real trumpet, he carried a toy version everywhere. By the time he was in high school, Henman knew he wanted to be a musician — and possibly a teacher.“I went into college thinking I wanted to be a jazz trumpet player,” Henman said. “Then, early on in college, I get exposed to a lot more orchestral music and found a love for the classical side of the trumpet.”Unlike many of his peers, who pined for a life far away from their hometown, Henman wanted to come back home and teach. He applied for every job in pretty much every state he could and jumped at the elementary music teacher job when it became available.As a Burlington High School graduate, he also found it a bit ironic. He credits BHS band director Derrick Murphy, who is still teaching, for helping to expand his love of music.“That was kind of a neat thing for me, going through college and getting my degree and then getting to come back home to teach where I grew up,” he said.Henman’s future was always going to be dictated by music. Both of his parents are accomplished singers, and all three of his older siblings went through band and choir, as did he.“I just grew up with it,” he said.Before taking the music job at West Burlington, Henman was hesitant to teach younger children. He has no children and recalls how his first pack of kindergartners trampled his plans on the first day.But Henman learned, and so did the kids. Like any good music teacher, Henman’s ultimate goal is simple: to instill a student’s love of music.Everything that follows is a natural extension of the students’ interest. Band is an elective in high school, so Henman now has the luxury of teaching students who want to be in the music room. They like talking about music theory and improving their skills.“I’m able to get them to think even more critically about the music they’re creating. We’ll be rehearsing, and I’ll cut them off, and I’ll ask them, ‘What instrument has the melody here?’ And you’ve got some students who are paying attention, who’ve been listening not just to their own part but to the entire ensemble. And they’re able to pick out,” Henman said.Now that he’s settled into high school, Henman is laying the groundwork for a long-term project.&nbsp;He wants to increase the size of West Burlington’s marching band and its exposure and importance — perhaps even competitive contests someday.But to do that, he needs interested students. Most of his band students have expressed disinterest in marching band, but Henman has found a middle ground at the school’s Friday night football games.“I like to call it a Friday night football band,” he said. “We are there specifically to build the school spirit for the football games.”The West Burlington-Notre Dame football team won its first-ever playoff game last Friday. Henman’s students celebrated with their synchronous instruments.“It was such an exciting experience, getting to play for a playoff game. I think it was great for the students to witness a bit of school history,” Henman said.Despite the hours he spends teaching others, Henman has always maintained his passion for the trumpet. Of course, he doesn’t play for the money.“A lot of my students, they think, ‘Well, after I graduate high school, I’m done with music,” he said.But that’s just not true.Burlington and the surrounding area are pretty musical, and Henman has found plenty of opportunity for this trumpet.&nbsp;He plays with the Southeast Iowa Symphony Orchestra, the Burlington Municipal Band, and several other organizations,&nbsp; including a salsa band he just joined.Henman has everything he could want, and it was always just a few miles from his doorstep. It takes some a lifetime to realize their heart is at home.&nbsp;Henman had it figured out before he ever started.“I’m happy where I’m at. I really love teaching in West Burlington,” he said.

 52 Faces: Homegrown harmony

For most of&nbsp; her life, that defective heart was slowly killing her.

Two years ago, Nack was given a second chance at life with a heart transplant. The road to get there, though, was nearly impassable.

When doctors first told Nack she had a spongy heart, she didn’t understand. The doctors didn’t fully understand it either. Nack was only one of six people who had received the diagnosis.

“They didn’t realize I had it until I was three-and-a-half. I passed out in the bathtub when it was bath time. My mom turned around, and I was passed out face-first in the water,” Nack said.

An X-ray technician noticed her odd, spongy heart. Nack might not be around to tell her story if he hadn’t.

“My heart was pressing on my sternum and causing me pain, but I couldn’t explain that, because I was three-and-a-half,” Nack said.

A normal heart is stretchy, like a pair of pantyhose. Nack’s heart had a texture more like leather, and anytime she took a deep breath, that material hardened permanently.

“They said I had three years to live,” Nack said.

Nack’s first memories were formed about a year later in the hospital, where hospitalization was a near-constant state of being.

“My first memory is waking up in the hospital room from one of my procedures. I remember waking up from the grogginess and a nice nurse coming and being like, ‘Oh, we’re gonna bring your parents back,” she said.

It could have been depressing if those around Knack had allowed it. Instead, they filled her days with comic books and video games, and she harbors a fondness for that period of her life.

“I got a Make-A-Wish out of it,” Nack said with a laugh.

Nack’s request was a little unusual. She wanted to meet the Beast from the classic animated Disney film “Beauty and the Beast.”&nbsp;

Most little girls were only interested in meeting Belle — the Beast’s romantic interest.

“They brought Belle in first, and I wasn’t having it. I wanted to meet Beast!” Nack said, who is now unsure why she was so adamant about it.

Beast was next to enter the room, and the meeting impacted the actor portraying Beast more than Nack herself.

“He was crying and had to go compose himself. My mom told me he was crying because no kids ever want to see Beast,” she said.

Until two years ago —when she was 29 years old — Nack had no idea what life was supposed to feel like. She only knew what it was like with an extreme heart condition that required constant medication.&nbsp;

<figure>
 <img src="https://d2eftiauov6o73.cloudfront.net/public/2024/11/1730683511220.jpeg" alt="Photo by John Lovretta" />
 <figcaption>Photo by John Lovretta</figcaption>
 </figure>By William SmithKatie Nack was born with a spongy heart.For most of&nbsp; her life, that defective heart was slowly killing her.Two years ago, Nack was given a second chance at life with a heart transplant. The road to get there, though, was nearly impassable.When doctors first told Nack she had a spongy heart, she didn’t understand. The doctors didn’t fully understand it either. Nack was only one of six people who had received the diagnosis.“They didn’t realize I had it until I was three-and-a-half. I passed out in the bathtub when it was bath time. My mom turned around, and I was passed out face-first in the water,” Nack said.An X-ray technician noticed her odd, spongy heart. Nack might not be around to tell her story if he hadn’t.“My heart was pressing on my sternum and causing me pain, but I couldn’t explain that, because I was three-and-a-half,” Nack said.A normal heart is stretchy, like a pair of pantyhose. Nack’s heart had a texture more like leather, and anytime she took a deep breath, that material hardened permanently.“They said I had three years to live,” Nack said.Nack’s first memories were formed about a year later in the hospital, where hospitalization was a near-constant state of being.“My first memory is waking up in the hospital room from one of my procedures. I remember waking up from the grogginess and a nice nurse coming and being like, ‘Oh, we’re gonna bring your parents back,” she said.It could have been depressing if those around Knack had allowed it. Instead, they filled her days with comic books and video games, and she harbors a fondness for that period of her life.“I got a Make-A-Wish out of it,” Nack said with a laugh.Nack’s request was a little unusual. She wanted to meet the Beast from the classic animated Disney film “Beauty and the Beast.”&nbsp;Most little girls were only interested in meeting Belle — the Beast’s romantic interest.“They brought Belle in first, and I wasn’t having it. I wanted to meet Beast!” Nack said, who is now unsure why she was so adamant about it.Beast was next to enter the room, and the meeting impacted the actor portraying Beast more than Nack herself.“He was crying and had to go compose himself. My mom told me he was crying because no kids ever want to see Beast,” she said.Until two years ago —when she was 29 years old — Nack had no idea what life was supposed to feel like. She only knew what it was like with an extreme heart condition that required constant medication.&nbsp;“At the age of 12, I got along really well with 45-year-old men and up because they’d be behind me at the pharmacy. They’d be complaining about their ACE inhibitor, their beta blocker, and I’d be like, ‘Oh, you’re on metoprolol too? I’d be like, yeah, I’m at 50 milligrams.’ They’re like, ‘I can’t even do 12.5 grams.’ So I’d be making friends with all these older gents. It was great.” Nack said with a laugh.A Wisconsin native who moved to Burlington four years ago, Nack’s sunny disposition helped her turn rotten lemons into beloved childhood memories.But she was always so tired. By the time she was in high school, Nack had a pacemaker wired to her heart. Installing it was just one of several surgeries and procedures she endured.“From like third grade on, I was tired all the time,” Nack said. “Back then, I thought it was normal for people to start losing their sight after walking a little bit.”Nack survived the pressures of societal norms by finding constant excuses to rest.&nbsp;Whenever her vision started to dim, she would stop to tie an already-tied shoe or stop by a friend’s locker, pretending she needed something.If she kept walking, she would eventually pass out.That ruled out every sport. Thankfully, her father was a video game developer for Raven Software, leaving Nack no shortage of stationary entertainment. Mainly video games and other forms of nerdy goodness.“That was a new outlet for. I got very into Dungeons and Dragons, and then video games,” she said. “It was an escape hatch for me.”Nack opened that escape hatch again while recovering from her heart transplant two years ago. And she’s still playing.“My dad bought a PlayStation 5 for me,” she said.Despite walking on eggshells that could shatter her heart, Nack never shied away from life. She met her husband&nbsp; Des Moines County Naturalist Marcus Nack while they were in college.&nbsp;After that, she taught special education in Stevens Point, Wis., for a number of years. These days, she teaches at Southeastern Community College.“I taught emotionally behavioral disabled students, but it became a catch-all for any students who needed to be in one location throughout their day. I worked with a lot of students with trauma, lots of students that were coming out of being incarcerated, and needed just to have a step program,” Nack said.Nack loved her job but had begun to doubt herself. Since her condition wasn’t visible to the naked eye, everyone told her she looked great. Meanwhile, her doctor was telling her that she was the sickest patient he had.With no comparison to how a healthy adult feels, Nack worried she might have a mental condition. She was concerned she was making it all up – lying to herself and everyone she knew.“I kept just being, like, ‘What’s wrong with me? It’s all in my head. I gotta be stronger, I gotta’ be tougher,’ ” she said.Nack could never shake that feeling of being an impostor. Not until the moment she awoke from her transplant surgery.Nack didn’t feel pain, despite surgeons cracking her chest open hours earlier. She felt relief. The elephant on her chest was gone.“I was like, ‘Oh my God, I wasn’t crazy. I had a non-working heart. The first thing I said was, ‘I feel so much better,” Nack said.Two years prior, when the COVID-19 pandemic swept across the country in 2020, Katie and her husband Marcus feared she wouldn’t live long enough to get a transplant.“The doctors kept telling me, don’t get COVID,” Nack said.Katie contracted COVID-19 shortly after those warnings. Considering her heart condition, she feared it was a death sentence. Marcus took care of her the entire time.“I’ve only seen him cry a few times. When I was diagnosed with COVID, he started crying,” Katie said.Nack had just moved to Burlington and jokes that she still gets lost because she spent the first two years isolated at home.Another heart health scare nearly disrupted her marriage to Marcus in 2022, and doctors told her it was finally time to get a heart transplant. She considers herself lucky. Nack only had to wait two months for a donor —&nbsp; a 19-year-old man.Nack didn’t realize how much simpler life — the more basic parts of it — is supposed to be. Before the heart transplant, she couldn’t walk the aisles of a grocery store, cook a meal, or eat it. She had to do one or the other.“I would fall asleep before I could eat it,” she said.Now, Nack is reaching beyond the simple pleasures she missed out on. She wants to run a 5K within the next year and is already training. She was walking (with help) 12 hours after her surgery.At 31 years old, Nack is practically starting her life over again.“It’s just crazy, the amount of energy I have,” she said.

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