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| Bill Sorensen | Former Managing Partner--Boettcher & Co. | February 4, 2013 |
Creative, articulate, witty, intelligent, loyal, a good friend, fraternity brother, and college room mate--all describe Jack and what he was and represented. He was one of my first of many new friends that I met when I started my freshman year at DU. I came from Wyoming at age 17 not knowing many students at DU but met Jack and we became pledge brothers of the SAE fraternity. Our friendship continued through college where we roomed together our senior year off campus with another fraternity brother, Dean Howell originally from Ft. Morgan. Military pilot trainiing came immediately after college but when completed we re-established our friendship in Denver with Jack's, firm JPI and my association with Boettcher and Company. (JPI was the sponsor for my son, Bill's, baseball team). We worked closely together with JPI being the advertising agency for Boettcher during a period of time in the 70's where Jack created many new ads and ideas helping us expand in the Rocky Mountain region. During this time we lived nearby in Applewood watching Jeff, Jenny, and Kim grow with my children, Sharon and Bill. Jeff and Bill continue their friendship to this day and this relationship keeps us informed about the family. Time passes so quickly, our children become responsible adults, we become grand parents and in my case, a great grand parent and I am so pleased to share my memories of past times with dear friends. Thanks for sharing your memories today with me. Knowing and working with Jack are some of the best memories I could have and isn't that what life is all about? We all will miss you, Jack. God bless.
| Bonnie Carver | Jack gets his "street smarts" | February 2, 2013 |
Jack had satisfied his childhood longings and was through with Irish Wolfhounds once and for all. They cost a fortune and none of the three we had owned had lived past age 7. So we were temporarily dogless when Jack stumbled across an unusual newspaper ad he couldn't resist answering: "Street person seeks good home for puppy. Call 278-2657." How did a homeless person place an ad and have a phone? The confusion was cleared up when "Alma" answered at The Stout Street Clinic.
We rushed downtown just in time to see a man and a scruffy dog exiting the clinic Running down a Denver alley, we gently asked if we could give his dog a home. The man was naturally reluctant, so Jack offered to show him the property where the dog would live, a mini-ranch we had recently purchased. Then the three of us, plus dog, rode to our home in Golden. We had lunch and learned that Steve was the black sheep of a family who were practicing tough-love after years of disappointment and betrayal. We watched the dog make himself at home and renamed him "Streeter," of course.
Later we drove Steve "home"--the viaduct at Speer and 14th Street. As we said goodbye we mentioned that we would be hiring a handyman to build fence and shelving at our new home. If he ever wanted a job...just call.
Two months later, Steve did. He rode the bus from Denver and showed up everyday. Jack paid him in cash. Jack did not, however, pay social security tax on Steve's earnings, thus disqualifying either of us from holding public office one day. But, at the end of the summer we proudly calculated that Steve had earned enough for the first month's rent on an apartment. Right? "Wrong," Steve said.
And then Steve explained that he'd bought food each night after returning from work at our house. Food for his "family" like any man, and they shared the pleasure of happy camaraderie instead of standing in lines at soup kitchens as beggars. He was proud to have found day-work, earning the cash with which to treat his friends. His self esteem was sky high, and he regretted his generosity not one bit. And Jack got it. We were blown away by the fact that Steve had given his "fortune" away to others, had demonstrated love of friends that would make anyone proud and maybe put some of us to shame. We learned Steve had found a way to care for others, and gained dignity in the process. He'd probably bought them a few beers, too. Okay. We learned so much from Steve that summer and we were never again the same. We were better.
We rushed downtown just in time to see a man and a scruffy dog exiting the clinic Running down a Denver alley, we gently asked if we could give his dog a home. The man was naturally reluctant, so Jack offered to show him the property where the dog would live, a mini-ranch we had recently purchased. Then the three of us, plus dog, rode to our home in Golden. We had lunch and learned that Steve was the black sheep of a family who were practicing tough-love after years of disappointment and betrayal. We watched the dog make himself at home and renamed him "Streeter," of course.
Later we drove Steve "home"--the viaduct at Speer and 14th Street. As we said goodbye we mentioned that we would be hiring a handyman to build fence and shelving at our new home. If he ever wanted a job...just call.
Two months later, Steve did. He rode the bus from Denver and showed up everyday. Jack paid him in cash. Jack did not, however, pay social security tax on Steve's earnings, thus disqualifying either of us from holding public office one day. But, at the end of the summer we proudly calculated that Steve had earned enough for the first month's rent on an apartment. Right? "Wrong," Steve said.
And then Steve explained that he'd bought food each night after returning from work at our house. Food for his "family" like any man, and they shared the pleasure of happy camaraderie instead of standing in lines at soup kitchens as beggars. He was proud to have found day-work, earning the cash with which to treat his friends. His self esteem was sky high, and he regretted his generosity not one bit. And Jack got it. We were blown away by the fact that Steve had given his "fortune" away to others, had demonstrated love of friends that would make anyone proud and maybe put some of us to shame. We learned Steve had found a way to care for others, and gained dignity in the process. He'd probably bought them a few beers, too. Okay. We learned so much from Steve that summer and we were never again the same. We were better.
| Logan Velenski | Grandad | February 2, 2013 |
My best memory of Grandad is him teaching me how to do spitballs!
| Ryan Velenski | Grandad | February 2, 2013 |
My best memory of Grandad is reading books with him and that he loved to go fishing. I remember him going fishing with Mom.
| Jennifer Carver | Grandad | January 27, 2013 |
Jameson remembers the first time he went fishing with grandad, he caught a fish but didn't knowwhat to do with it, so he dragged it along the ground until he got to grandad. Grandad laughed anfish owed me how to take it off the hook and gut it.
Kelsey remembers grandad reading stories to her, like the Tony book and the Christmas mouse story. She remembers sitting with him and the other kifor or the stories and then giving him a big hug.
John remembers that Dad gave John cowboy boots when he and Jenny were getting married which he thought was a nice introduction to Colorado. He also remembers Dads generosity over dinners at The Fort.
Jenny will add a separate note later.
Kelsey remembers grandad reading stories to her, like the Tony book and the Christmas mouse story. She remembers sitting with him and the other kifor or the stories and then giving him a big hug.
John remembers that Dad gave John cowboy boots when he and Jenny were getting married which he thought was a nice introduction to Colorado. He also remembers Dads generosity over dinners at The Fort.
Jenny will add a separate note later.
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