One of the many unexpected bonuses of working in the St. Louis Jewish community for the past 17 years has been the friendships I’ve made along the way. Some were entirely unanticipated, born not out of long-shared history or careful cultivation but from chance encounters, shared projects or overlapping circles that, somehow, just clicked. 

One day you’re interviewing on a story or attending the same event, and the next you’re swapping Netflix recommendations or debating whether “business casual” at a Jewish nonprofit event actually means yoga pants. 

What a beautiful, serendipitous gift.

The thing is, I know I’m not alone. Over the years of covering our vibrant and ever-evolving community, I’ve been struck by how often relationships blossom in the most unassuming ways. A volunteer committee. A shared Shabbat dinner. An awkward first meeting that, over cups of coffee, turns into deep connection. 

Again and again, I see how people show up for each other — not just for simchas and sorrow, but for the silly, everyday stuff, too. 

And the result is this unexpected web of friendships that grows richer with time, like a well seasoned cast iron skillet (or pot of matzah ball soup, depending on your metaphor of choice).

Some of these friendships may not have made sense on paper — different ages, backgrounds, life experiences — but they somehow work, bound together by shared values, humor, purpose and a kind of quiet understanding that doesn’t need much explaining. And isn’t that the magic of it? These aren’t the friendships we planned for. They’re the ones that found us anyway. 

Enter the Water Nymphs, a lively crew of nine St. Louis Jewish women who gather five early mornings a week during the summer months for water aerobics. Recently, they graciously invited me to one of their hourlong 8 a.m. Sunday sessions to soak in the camaraderie, the conversation and maybe even attempt a few aquatic moves (emphasis on maybe).

But it quickly became clear that this wasn’t just any workout invite; it was also something of a farewell tour. After more than two decades of splashing, stretching and schmoozing (not necessarily in that order), Gloria Schonbrun, whose lovely backyard pool has been the group’s home base, had put her house on the market. 

The other eight members jokingly (or maybe not-so-jokingly) lobbied Gloria and her husband, Scott, to write a clause into the sale agreement allowing continued Water Nymph access. But no one’s really holding their breath — except perhaps during the backstroke.

“It’s the end of an era,” sighed Nymph member Nancy Weigley, drawing a collective groan.

Then again, summer is not over yet.

And so, on this particular Sunday, the show went on. Sue Lapp, the group’s ever enthusiastic instructor since its founding in 1999, led the Water Nymphs through a buoyant lineup of moves with names including Reverse Cheerleader, Close the Gate, Nordic Track, Split Nordic Track  and a crowd favorite, the Gene Kelly, a routine of swinging arms and legs underwater that felt equal parts pendulum and old-school musical. Make no mistake: These ladies get a workout although, as Nancy quipped, “We work our jaws more than anything.”

Loren Ludmerer, one of four original group members, confided afterward: “For me, the exercise has nothing to do with it. 

“And it’s nice that I’m actually doing something I enjoy that isn’t eating,” she added with a laugh.

Loren originally joined the group with a friend who, like a few water shoes over the years, eventually drifted away, as did others who were replaced by still others. 

As the story goes, the whole thing started in the parking lot of Old Bonhomme Elementary School in Olivette where, after carpool drop off, Sue and Gloria got to chatting about water aerobics. Gloria casually mentioned she had a pool, and the rest, as they say, is chlorinated history.

What’s kept the Nymphs coming back, though, goes far beyond the water. It’s the conversation — . free-flowing and uncensored. 

Over the course of an hour, the Nymphs might cover topics such as aging parents, the death of a parent, venting about aging in general, kid drama, kid triumphs, kids moving out (or back in), grandkids, medical updates (both Sue and Loren are breast cancer survivors), synagogues (most of the nine are affiliated), Israel (though they try to stay away from politics), critiques of local bagel shops, shopping tips (like the end-of-summer sale on swimsuits at Land’s End), the opening of Aldi’s in Olivette, recipes, restaurants, travel plans, streaming series that disappointed them, books that didn’t, movies that sparked debate, dating escapades and marriage milestones. Such as  when group member Lynnsie Kantor recently tied the knot again and celebrated with a “family-moon” to Banff in Canada. And that’s just before they start stretching.

One crowd favorite: when Gloria and fellow Nymphette Gail Kramer get into a good-natured bicker. Gloria’s sister is married to Gail’s brother, which means they occasionally land at the same family events. The dynamic? “Grace and Frankie” meet Midwest mishpacha.

“The way they argue is like two sisters,” Loren said. “They remind me of my grandmother and her sister. Honestly, they’re just so funny together.”

Around Labor Day, when the season winds down, the group pools (pun intended) their resources to buy thank-you gifts for Sue, their fearless leader in a swim visor, and Gloria, their generous pool host and water goddess-in-chief. Big props also go out to Scott Schonbrun, the resident pool dude, who makes sure the ladies find the water in pristine condition when they arrive.

Another high point comes at season’s end when the group’s unofficial poet laureate, Ellen Samuels, a lawyer who happens to be the quietest of the bunch, delivers an original poem that captures all the funny antics, life experiences and floating confessions from the past three months. No one is quite sure how she manages to remember everything that was discussed —  does she take notes underwater? — though they have come to regard this as her superpower.

Watching the Water Nymphs kicking, stretching, splashing and  laughing felt like witnessing a master class in what real friendship looks like. Not the kind you plan or carefully curate, but the kind that forms when you show up consistently, share honestly and laugh loudly, preferably while wearing aquatic gloves and carrying foam dumbbells.

This group, which also includes Judy Abrams and Lynda Berkowitz, didn’t set out to build something lasting. But over the years, stroke by stroke, story by story, they created a community, one that celebrates birthdays and surgeries, marriages and mammograms, new grandbabies and new Aldi locations, with equal enthusiasm. And while they may not see much of each other during the winter, come Memorial Day, it’s as if no time has passed at all.

And isn’t that the beauty of it? So many of the most meaningful friendships I’ve made while working in the St. Louis Jewish community weren’t sought out, they simply surfaced, like the best kind of surprise. Just like the Water Nymphs, we find each other in parking lots, synagogue lobbies, bagel store lines and sometimes, while bobbing in the deep end of a neighborhood pool.

What matters most is not where or how the connection begins, but that we keep showing up — for the laps, the laughs and everything in between.