From Burt Arnowitz

I saw dana a few hours before he died. Although his body was shutting down, he connected with the small group gathered around him. His speech slurred from drugs, pain and dry mouth (no food or drink had passed his lips for many weeks). He was joking with us -- tethered to ICU monitors, drips and nurse supervisors.

Denise, amazingly, heroically strong and determined to pull him back from death by her sheer will, encouraged all of us before we went in to see him that if a miracle was possible, dana would pull it off -- and joke about it on the other side. We all agreed. Denise stroked his hair and talked about their future -- she just renewed the studio lease, the new monitor was coming next week, the cats needed him and all his family and friends expected him to fully recover.

With great difficulty he talked to all of us, although obviously gravely ill, he joked, he was alert -- we were encouraged. I left to stay overnight with a friend who lived by the hospital, so I could come back the next day -- but dana died that night -- picking the next exit on his own, as he often did on the road.

The next exit was an ongoing theme on the amazing highways of dana's life. (If you haven't visited the website, check out www.nextexit.com to explore the highways, exits, detours and destinations of this great storyteller).

Dana's roadshow rolled into my life in 1972, when I produced a story about him for my cable tv show. I've been friends with the colorado spaceman ever since. Now, some 30 years later, when I conjur any thought of dana -- I see a 30 year visual morph of dana smiling his sly smile -- a denis the menace kid lurking behind that impish grin.

Dana stopped growing, peter pan like, in his early twenties, maybe teens, sometimes less. I want to think I did the same, but the reality is he lived it really, truly - and while I tried to keep the openess that comes with that mindset-- he never covered it over. He had enormous unfiltered creativity, constant wonder, curiousity, unbridled quest and appreciation of all things afforded to the living: the never ending feast of available sensuality, sights, pictures, tastes, sounds, ideas, places, contexts, loves, lusts, weirdness, connective threads, expressions, experimental broths, soups, stews -- real, imagined, whacky.

The people, places and things went through the dana filter and turned into wonderful stories that touched all the emotions. They found expression in dana's music, writing, photos, art, videos, theater.

Dana totally lived his art and heart. I admired that and wished I could have that courage. I loved who he was and what he did. I loved how he did it. I loved his drive and how he pushed the envelope. I loved his smile and humor.

I will miss him very much and now greatly regret not spending more time with him. Dana has had a large and positive impact on our little patch of reality. His art and ideas will live on. His impact on all those audiences will live on. His wonderful wife and daughters will carry on his spirit and his brand new grand daughter will surely carry the special dana mojo forward to the next generation. A bright light has left the planet and it will be sorely missed -- but all those stories at the end of the next exits remain forever...

burt

From CJ Beaman

Dearest Denise,

I cannot begin to imagine how this must feel for you. Surrounded by your friends, the holiday time, and where's Dana? Isn't he just around in the other room? Honey, he's everywhere, and in your heart. Deeply. You are surrounded by Dana inside and out.

Grieving is a very strange thing. You wrap it around you like a scarf on a chilly day and throw it away like a breeze in spring. Each person's suffering is their own; this experience is what creates humanity. And Story.

Dana was very instrumental in leading me into what I am today, placing me into the capable hands of CDS, etc. I carry the camaraderie of both of you to this day. It started long ago with that Carbondale-Crested Butte connection, and then time just flew and suddenly I I was seeing your pain when you bravely appeared at Ben Lomond, which was such an honor. I wanted to reach out, to touch you, to heal you in some way right then. You carried a huge weight and I could see getting those shoulders rubbed or maybe your hands massaged would give you a refresher, but I lost that chance. And now Dana's gone. We will miss him, but not like you will. He was the love of your life.

I have been paying close attention to the reports on you. Do not think you >are not loved, not a concern! Pain can be shared, and you will delve it out >properly. It will not go away, but eventually you will exchange it, transforming this gift into another vehicle, and one we all will happy to >experience with you when you wish.

There are lots of things we wish for, fool's gold...like how I wish I'd gotten in decent time with you two, how I wish my circumstances had been otherwise and I could have taken care of your kitties and home when you were at hospital with Dana. These things will never come to pass now, for their >moments are empty of experience and so gone.

You, however, are rich and full of experience, of emotions, of life. Please remember to take care of that, for you are still here on the 3rd >plane, and have to wash, eat, sleep and attend to all the stress you've adopted in your soul. Take care of yourself, you are also precious to us.

I await announcement of what arrangements are next. For all of us Dana worshippers, if I can be of any help to you, I will do that now. I have a big Jeep, and live right here. I will stay in touch, I know you've got alot to experience and don't expect you to return this.

I'll let you go now, more later when I'm not so sad. Just wanted you to >know I'm thinking about Dana. And you....

Love, CJ from across the bay

From Sally Ann Wolanczyk

Denise,

Words seem like such a small thing, so I'll tell you a tiny story.

When Dana was in Chicago last April, we had dinner together. Sure, Dana's been all over and had thousands of dinners with fascinating, important people. But that night, I was sure that I was the luckiest, most fascinating, most important girl in the city of Chicago.

That's just how being with Dana made you feel. We drank margaritas and he told me that he had been having some good days and feeling pretty ok. We talked about his upcoming Europe trip and how excited he was to go to Paris with you (even if you were going to sleep all the way over).

Then he asked to borrow my cell phone and called you. He was a man completely in love. I was lucky-- I liked Dana and I think that he liked me. But Dana loved you in a way that was a joy to see and be in the presence of. It is so beautiful and so rare. To love someone so much that loves you that much back; it's beyond luck.

I've been honored your friendship.

with love and fond regards,

SallyAnn

From Heath Row

Denise,

Dan Pink just forwarded me an email that you sent friends of thefamily and festival. It has given me pause, and I wanted to touch >base to express my deepest sympathy on the news of your family's loss, to offer my heartfelt condolences and support, and to tell you that Dana was one of the most amazing, impressive, and inspirational people I've met through my work at Fast Company.

As the global coordinator of Fast Company's readers network -- and as an editor for the magazine -- I meet a lot of people. The Company of Friends comprises 35,000 alone, and Dana will remain one of my favorite and most loved. Even before I spent time with you and Dana before and at the Digital Storytelling Bootcamp and Festival, I knew that I had connected with Dana at a deeply personal and productive level.

Dana and I shared a love of stories, a drive to help other people tell their own stories, an appreciation of the potential of grassroots media, and an attraction to travel and the road. He was especially mindful and caring -- one of the most gentle, giving, and driven creative people I have met in my 27 years on this planet.

Little things will stick in my memory: my wish that I can do only a>fraction of what Dana accomplished during his time here, our connection over mail art and zines, the days the three of us spent together in Copenhagen, and my hope that some day I would help Dana write the book that I was sure was inside of him.

I'm sure I feel only a portion of your love for Dana, your loss, and >your pain. But please know that I am here. Here. Count me among Dana's friends from afar and greatest admirers. I have few idols, and Dana surely ranks as one in my life and work. Contact me if there's anything I can do to help you and your daughters. Now or in the future.

This is sad news, indeed. Wishing you the best in this troubling time. I am at a loss.

Heath