Welcome to The First Cup

I’m pouring out Connection, Understanding and Perspective.

Hi, I’m Jill Kurszewski - a storyteller who believes that when we share even a small piece of our story, we begin to see one another differently.

Stories start here.

I’ve worked as a reporter, event planner, fundraiser, marketing and PR director, and foundation director. Each role taught me something different about strategy, but one lesson stayed constant:

Storytelling is everything.

  • Mission
    To share stories and help others share their story.

    Vision
    A world where people pursue connection and seek to understand one another first.

  • Joy
    I look for joy in everything. It’s a mindset, not a mood.

    Connection
    I’m always searching for the common thread - the place where my story meets yours.

    Disruption
    I welcome opportunities to challenge the status quo. Let’s flip a few tables together.

    Coffee
    My favorite moments are spent trading stories over a good cup of coffee.

As a reporter, I learned how to uncover a story, then tell it clearly and succinctly. In fundraising and leadership, storytelling became the difference between connection and confusion. When stories are shared with intention, something shifts - people connect, they understand, and they begin to see themselves in the work.

That’s when they’re ready to act.

So I’ll ask you what I ask everyone:

What’s your story and how will you use it to change the world?

Start Your Story

A Bit of My Story

I’m a sports mom - an unapologetic super fan of my kids.

But before you picture a crazed parent in the bleachers, let me explain…

In March 2020, my son’s squirt hockey team was playing in the state championship. I was decked out in team colors, shaking red pom poms, waving a fat-head cutout, and probably yelling a little too loudly.

If you were sitting behind me, you might have thought, “This lady is intense.”

What you wouldn’t have known is that just one year earlier, my son had been in a serious car accident. The part of the truck where he was sitting was crushed like a soda can. Somehow, miraculously, he survived, recovering with just 18 staples in his arm.

So yes, I cheered like a fanatic that day.

Not because winning mattered, but because my son was alive, skating, and smiling.

Moments like that change how you see the world. They remind you that you never really know what someone else is carrying.

“Not because winning mattered - but because my son was alive, skating, and smiling.”
— Jill Kurszewski