Month: May 2023

Evelyn Brendel Jennes 1964 – 2022

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Evelyn Jennes Brendel – 1964 – 2023

Evelyn Jennes Brendel died on Wednesday night, March 22, 2023. She persevered for several years with great courage and great good humor through a diagnosis of metastatic breast cancer. No words can express what a gigantic hole her leaving has made in our hearts and lives. We miss her so very much.

Evie’s light shone like an image from the Webb telescope. She loved people. Her great curiosity and sense of adventure took her around the world to live, play, and to work. In the USA, she worked for Baxter and US Surgical where her marketng and people skills made her a top salesperson. Then off she went to Russia in the 1990’s, then on to Slovakia to work for Coca-Cola.

Finally, she settled down in the Netherlands with the love of her life and husband, Erik, and raised three lovely daughters, Everie, Elies, and Ella. There she made a wonderful life full of friends and learned how to speak excellent Dutch – with a very American accent, of course. She was involved in her new community and culture, celebrating Dutch holidays and customs with joy and eagerness.

Evie loved being a mother. She was affectionate and funny, and made sure her family gathered each evening for a proper sit-down dinner. The conversation was always lively and full of laughter – current school activities and dramas, politics, art, and local events. Evie shopped each week at the Haarlem market with Erik and/or some of their girls. She inherited her love of nutritious organic whole foods from her mother. Evie loved to try new foods and recipes, often passing them on to friends and family. She kept a list of each family members’ favorites, making them upon request or for special occasions.

Evie kept in regular touch with her friends and family in the USA for thirty years, visiting each summer for several weeks. In America, she visited her childhood friends in and around Bethlehem, Pennsylvania where she grew up. Evie also visited her Penn State University friends (she graduated with a BS in Business in 1986), and they all raised their children as one big brood. Their children are now adults, and they too keep in touch and visit with one another.

Evie, her husband, Erik and children always spent at least one week with her family in Avalon, New Jersey, a lifelong annual family vacation spot. There she visited and played beach paddle tennis with her parents (Mary and Bob – deceased), sister Katie, brother Robby, brother-in-law, Kevin and nieces Anna Lou and Campbell.

Evie was an international entrepreneur who worked on several start-ups in the US and Europe. Her ability to connect with people and organize marketing projects made her indispensable. Her colleagues around the world miss her.

The Jennes family loves to travel. And because Evie is a born organizer, the five E’s (as they call themselves) traveled far and wide. From France to Egypt to Southeast Asia. To Central America and the Alps. From Hollywood to Vermont to Maine and Utah, USA. Evie loved places with history and culture – even Hollywood culture. She planned trips that would teach them how others lived and worked. Trips that showed them the art and natural beauty of a particular place.

Evie’s positive perseverance and tenacity during the seven years she had breast cancer inspired everyone she encountered. Her study and knowledge of her disease, her approach to healing and her constant attitude of moving forward in joy and gratefulness was awesome to behold. She was a ‘never say die person’ who withstood much hardship and pain, yet never complained. If you asked her how she was – she always said ‘good’. She had so much life that she wanted to live and so much more time she wanted to spend with her family. When the end came, she was surrounded by her children, husband, and sister. Erik never left her side for the last three days she was alive. Evie died in her beloved husband’s arms.

Evie’s ability to connect with people and forge deep and lasting friendships was a lived example for her family. They, too, have her gift of caring and connectedness with others. Since Evie’s death, the now four E’s have been surrounded by their friends. Each day, friends come to their home with hugs, tears, food, cards, and flowers. Visiting for an hour or so, laughing and crying, sometimes walking on the beach together. Time to reminisce, reflect and mourn an amazing life that ended much too soon. Farewell sweet Evie.

My Sister, Evie

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Evie and I at Big Bass Lake, PA Summer 2008

My name is Katie Hearn, and I’m Evie’s older sister. We were born 11 years apart, so she was like my first real-life baby.

Erik has spoken about Evie as a grown woman, wife, mother, entrepreneur, and world traveler. I’m going to talk about Evie as a child and a young adult.

As I mentioned, I thought of Evie as my baby. I took care of her, played with her and sometimes took her to the grocery store. One day, our mother asked me to pick up some groceries and would I take Evie along. I was 16, and she was 5.

Evie sat in the grocery cart’s child seat, which was right up front. As we went up and down the aisles, Evie and I chatted. Evie loved to go to the grocery store.

When we got to the check-out lines which were very crowded, she noticed candy bars on the shelf nearby and immediately asked for one. I said, no.  I would have gotten in trouble with my mom for that purchase. My mother was a 1960’s health food fanatic.

As I began putting the lettuce, tomatoes, string beans and carrots on the counter, Evie, said distinctly and loudly, “Mommy, can we get some milk? We never have milk. Please.”

I turned and scowled at her, saying, I’m not your mother.” And she retorted again more loudly, “Yes, you are, Mommy. You always say that. You are my mother.”

The check-out woman looked at me with total disgust; the other women in lines all around us were giving me looks of great disapproval. I could feel them thinking – ‘Another teenage mother who doesn’t know how to take care of her child.

And – even denies being her mother.’

I hustled out of the grocery as quickly as I could, taking Evie by the hand and scolding her as we walked across the parking lot to our car. When we arrived home a few minutes later, I stormed into the house, a furious, embarrassed teenager, calling “Mom, Mom, Evie called me mommy in the grocery store check-out line, and everyone stared and gave me dirty looks. And then when I said, I’m not your mother, she called out louder that I always say I’m not her mother when I really am. I’m never taking her to the store again!! Never! But I did — a few weeks later. And she didn’t call me Mommy, and I bought her a chocolate bar. We didn’t tell our mother.

As you all know, Evie is/was a beautiful strong, joyful person who loved life and people. She was funny, she was kind, generous, brave, and an amazing problem solver. She was also charming and resolute when faced with challenges.

When we were on a sisters-only trip to Tuscany and Umbria in the 1990’s, we got lost everywhere we tried to go in our rental car. We often stopped to ask for directions in our few horrific words of Italian. The person always smiled and answered in fast paced Italian using their arms and pointing this way or that. And we looked back at them with faces of complete comprehension. We were great actors. As we drove off, we’d turned to one another and asked, “Did you understand what they said?’’ Then we’d burst out laughing, saying at the same time, “NO, not one word.”

One day, we ended up at the entrance to a toll road, a row of toll booths straight ahead. Oh no, we knew this was very wrong. I was driving.

Evie, said, “Make a U turn.” I said, “But there’s a police officer in the middle. I can’t do that.”  “Sure, you can,” Evie said, “Just go.”

 So, I did. And immediately the policeman stopped us. He walked over to the car and told us quite forcefully in Italian that we may NOT turn around.  Evie leaned over me. I was afraid. In the US, you don’t confront the police.

Evie looked straight into the policeman’s face and said very assertively, ‘We must turn around. We must.”

 The policeman kept saying ‘No”, and many other words besides. And Evie leaning across me kept saying over and over, “We must turn around!”

 After 4 or 5 back and forths, the policeman suddenly changed his tone, smiled and waved us on to make the U turn. I was shocked. This would never happen at home. Evie looked at me and said, “You can’t give up. If you keep saying it long enough, they give in.”

So here we are today, celebrating dear Evie’s glorious life. She was my baby, my friend, my confidante, my sister, my model of courage and perseverance, and my partner in laughter. She has flown, and we are here saying, we will miss you sorely.