There are so many people and experiences in our lives that make us who we are and I would hazard a guess that very few of them have to do with the specific work we find ourselves doing each day yet, here we are working away and we know they had something to do with it.

Nancy Duncan

When my family lived in Omaha, my mom & dad worked closely with Nancy Duncan at the Emmy Gifford Children’s Theatre. I believe Nancy was the director of the theatre at the time and then went on to be a storyteller, traveling all over the midwest telling the most wonderful stories.

Later, when my parents bought the Kendall building in downtown Marion and started Campbell Steele Gallery and Liars Theatre, they brought Nancy to the gallery to perform her stories and to perform with Liars.

Nancy was a force. Her Baba Yaga story and Chicken stories were perennial favorites and I can still hear her voice clearly when I think of her characters.

There are so many people who popped in and out of our lives throughout what I suppose you would call my formative years, so why did I find myself googling Nancy Duncan’s name today? I wanted to see her tell “The Pocket People”, one of the most beautiful stories I’ve ever seen, told entirely with hands and without words.

Friends, there are limits to what the internet holds and, though I knew I would not find it there, I scanned the list of google results to see if some stray fan had posted an informal video of that beloved story. I knew before I looked that I was searching in vain.

What I did find, though, was page after page of articles written in remembrance of Nancy, who died in 2004, after a long battle with breast cancer.

This article brought it all back home and reminded me of the role Nancy played in so many people’s lives. I urge you to read the Sharon Olds poem in the 2nd column of the article – it’s breathtaking.

I have been lucky to be surrounded my whole life by people who live passionately and have taught me by example. They’ve taught me so well that I don’t know any other way to live.

Maybe it’s becoming a parent that has brought clarity to this point: we are who we are because of everyone who holds us up. Navel gazing doesn’t get you very far and our selves are much less important than who we are lucky enough to live with, work with, and love.