From Mark Atchley

Dear Denise,

I have waited to respond to your email about Dana, as I still can't believe that he is gone. I can easily picture the both of you at Gillian's party a short time ago. I even talked to Dana the day after Thanksgiving, and I fully expected to see you-all during the Christmas holidays. He was an incredible person, an inspiration, mentor and best of all a part of our family.

Here's a story Dana knew, but not sure that you know it.

Dana, and his book Charon's Quince, changed my life. Starting when I was 18, I worked for a printer/newspaper in Aspen during summers and winter vacations. I found myself at about 21, with no real direction. I had been to, and flunked out of, college. I had been abroad and just wandered around. When I came back to the US I stopped in to see Grandma and Grandpa Atchley. While there I found Dana's book, Charon's Quince, read it and decided that I wanted to pursue a career in printing. I went back to college, studied printing (got straight A's) and my whole life since then has been in the graphic arts. And although it has had its ups and downs, I have been very happy with my choice.

For this I am forever grateful to Dana.

By the way, somehow Dana found an extra copy of the book and gave it to me on Thanksgiving 1993.

There will always be a special place in my heart for Dana, and judging from the flow of emails, many others feel the same way. Both Bonnie and I wish you the best. If there is anything I can do, please call on me.

Love always, Mark

PS. I told my mother about Dana and she remembers him very fondly and was saddened by the news.

From Eliza Twitchell

I met Dana almost exactly 30 years ago. I was 18, he was about 27, and we've been friends ever since.

I've watched him grow from his VW bus through various bigger and bigger vans up to the motor homes, and I've watched the road show grow over three decades from two slide projectors in Earl Crabb's attic in Berkeley into Next Exit in big spaces in New York City (and all points in between and around).

I've watched him-one of my most beloved friends- become increasingly and exquisitely as big as he could be- in his work, in friendship, and in love with his kids and most recently -and for too short a time- with

Denise. Imagine how luminous he is right now- all that energy-all positive- released from pain and illness into the next part of his journey. He always said- "Space is the connector of all things" and we are all connected through Dana. So love deeply, live fully and compassionately with eyes and heart wide open as he did.

I am overwhelmed with gratitude for everything and everyone he brought into my life, and also with nearly unbearable sorrow.

From Heather Taracka

Dear Megan,

My mother forwarded to me your email just this morning about your Dad passing away. You probably remember me as well as I remember you, as a name that was mentioned when our parents spoke about their families.

Bob and Cynthia Knudson are my parents,and as do they, I also hold a very special place in my heart for Dana.

I remember with such happiness the times he would come to visit us, >>in his RV. My parents would tell us that Dana was coming, and the anticipation and excitement was so unbearable you could taste it. The minute he pulled up to our house, we would come running out to see him. As a child, it never occurred to me that he was probably tired from the long drive or needed to use the bathroom or have a drink or bite to eat. I don't think it really occurred to him either, because he would always take the time to show us some new treasure he had collected in his travels, and would always have some sort of really cool and special gift for us. He gave me a wooden round "TUIT" once. I still have it. He always had a fascinating story to tell and a hug and a smile for us.

I am so greatful for being given the chance to get to know and love Dana and for the really special moments of fun and happiness he brought us with each visit. He was an extraordinary person who definitely touched my life for the better. If any of us have the opportunity in this life to make this world a better place to live, and we do just so, then we have accomplished so much.

Your Dad did this as I'm sure you know. I am a better person for having known Dana Atchley. I am so sorry for the grief and sadness your family must be feeling.

Dana will always sparkle and shine in our memories.

Love Heather (Knudson) Taracka

From Lauren Dunbar

Dear Denise and Joe and Nina,

Dana's death last week, the wrongness of losing him too soon and in this >way, your unimaginable grief...sit heavy in my heart. I weep for him, for you and your families, as for other loved ones lost this year.

Dana was progenitor to many thousands of digital storytelling offspring. I, too, am one fortunate to have been drawn toward this inspiring work after seeing Dana's performance and speaking with him on several occasions.

As quintessential storyteller, Dana inspired and amused us. His spirit, wisdom and lightheartedness are among the priceless gifts he left with us. For Dana lives on in the hearts and souls of all those he touched.

And then, there are his stories....

I'm disappointed that I can't join you this evening for a "tipping the cup" to Dana. Please keep me on your list for a January memorial >gathering to celebrate him.

Warm hugs,

Lauren Dunbar

From Janet Scott

Dear Denise, Meghan & Gillian,

My dear friend Bob Knudson sent me news of Dana's death tonight.  It brought back so many memories of our close friendship nearly 40 years ago...

I was a young, restless -nay, miserably married -  mother of two, living in the hills north of Hanover, NH.  I met Dana when I had signed on to play in a couple of one-acts (Ionesco) with the Dartmouth little theatre, in which he was involved.  He was bright, funny. and wildly creative. with a clear sense of his own talent and intentions.  

We discovered a passion for folk music in common, and were soon  singing together frequently.  Being half child hmself then , still in transition to adulthood, he loved my children, and they him... they called him 'Didot'- a typographer's fancy of his choosing - and he often came up the hill to visit, sing  and play with them.

The day he turned 21, we went to a pub in Hanover to celebrate his first legal drink...but to his considerable chagrin, they carded me (27) and not him - so he never got to flash his ID after all.

We also discovered that his grandfather, a noted physician and intuitive diagnostician at Columbia Med Center in NY, had been a great friend of my formidable  aunt Helen, who was head teaching nurse there and considered all the doctors as 'her boys'.  It gave us a sort of family connexion.

The summer he spent in Lunenburg, at Stinehauer press, I missed him greatly, and one night had a most curious experience. After an evening of visiting and singing in our living room with friends from Chicago, I had stretched out wearily on the floor and closed my eyes.  Suddenly Dana was lying there beside me...so palpably that I might have reached over and touched him...

We lay there for some minutes, sharing a warm, loving energy, until someoone spoke and I had to sit up.  Puzzled, and certain I'd been hallucinating, I kept it to myself.  The next day Dana phoned to recount 'a curious experience' he had had the evening before.  He seemed to have been transported into my living room, lying on the floor beside me, and named accurately all the people who had been in the room..... 

During his absences we tried consciously to repeat this, but never could. In 1963 I packed up the children one day and left home, returning to my parents in western New York state to obtain an MS Ed in order to become 'employable' (as pholosophy majors are notoriously Not).  Didot came out to visit us there, before embarking on his European journeys.  We wrote freqently at first, then less so, as life carried us in different directions. 

Over the years we have met only once or twice, and written occasionally, but a deep fondness and connection remained though I quite lost track of him some years ago.  I wish it were otherwise. Somewhere in a box packed during one of our many house-movings, there are cherished copies of Dana's first books from Stygian press, along with a video and some of his projects..... 

I have five grandchildren now, and a good husband.  Don't sing much anymore, but am still dancing.  Dana would probably be amused that at 66 I've just (rather clumsily) taken up the violin, hoping  to get a head start on being a bluegrass fiddler in the next round.... 

And after a little rest, I'm sure he won't be sitting still out there. I'm sure you miss him now.... he is untimely gone.  But you know that he lives joyfully in the hearts of so many others. Please accept my blessings and sympathy. 

My heart is full of Dana tonight, and of his beloved family.

love, Rowan