Memories of Nancy Duncan
By Gail Rosen

I met Nancy when she was grieving. It hadn't been long since her husband Harry had died when she came to my workshop on storytelling and bereavement at the 1998 NSN Conference. Though open about her loss, no one smiled as easily or laughed as infectiously as Nancy. The next day she invited me to present at a conference in Kearney, Nebraska, in 1999. I didn't know her at all at the beginning of the trip, but by the end I was in awe of her humor, her talent and her generosity. I knew I had been embraced by her warmth, her openness and her graciousness. She worked tirelessly for storytelling and creating venues for storytellers. And her own telling was smart and rich and funny and deeply meaningful.

Living in Baltimore, I didn't see her often - just at the national conferences each July. We only spoke a couple of times a year, but always with the feeling of deep friendship and easy intimacy. I believe our relationship was not unique for her. She seemed to appreciate and offer that delicious humor and straightforward emotional connection to so many people.

A number of us were blessed by her emails, full of inspiration, passion for justice, love of storytelling, poetry and fun. I wish I had saved them all. I found her first letter to me about her breast cancer in my "stories" file. Here's part of what it said:

"I tried to talk one of the surgeons into substituting a mini face-lift in place of breast reconstruction (which I'm not planning to do), but TARNATION! I don't think I'll even get an extra mole removed as a side-benefit in this process. …Have to admit I did spend a sort of soggy weekend March 11-12. I planned my own funeral about four times, … then planned the funerals of about six people who I think should die before I do, and then just got bored with all that planning so I read Brat Farrar by Josephine Tey (sweet novel)... Took some photos of my right breast and wondered if, when they take it off, I could save the skin and stuff it as a future installation piece in some storytelling production. You never know when you might need an old body part. I've been recycling for the past 15 years and don't know why I should quit now. … .I should cast it before Tuesday so I could make replicas or sculptures - I'm thinking, it would be nice in chocolate."

Throughout her illness, she kept us all up to date on her treatment and condition, with posts filled with her particular intelligence and biting wit. She knew we wanted to know, and that we cared. She also worried that she would cause us worry. She said in one post, "If you'd like to be removed from these mailings about my medical adventures, I can fully understand. Knowledge is not always a blessing. The most difficult part of this story, for me so far, is the pain I am causing my loved ones. So let me know if you DO NOT WANT TO STAY POSTED."

In the Spring of 2003, Nancy told me that she was finally getting some national recognition and reputation for her storytelling, but people were afraid to hire her for festivals a year in advance. "They're afraid I might be dead," she said. "But they could be dead too!" So the Healing Story Alliance executive committee decided to ask her to present at our 2004 preconference. She was delighted, and designated Cynthia Changaris to present if she couldn't. It was only a few weeks before the conference, when she gave up the hope that she could be well enough to come. I shifted some of my travel plans about two weeks before the conference, and went to see her for just two days. Even though she was thin and so tired, she was full of feisty banter and generous listening. I heard her on the phone, still

caring for her friends, saying, "I loved you the first time I met you and I still do." She insisted that I go through her closet and try on clothes that I might wear, clothes that now embrace me in her memory.

We both knew it would be the last time I would see her, but I couldn't bring myself to really say goodbye. I still don't want to. So I won't. Instead I'll try to keep her living memory present, to listen to her voice on her story recordings, to read some of the emails I saved, to talk of her with friends who knew her and to "introduce" her to friends who never met her. I'll try to take in a little more of her enthusiasm, generosity, wit and grace, to make it part of myself. I am so very grateful to have known Nancy and to remember her.

Gail Rosen founded the Healing Story Alliance and served as the first chair. Rosen works with Hospice and end of life care through storytelling.

Thinking about Nancy
prose poem

Nancy and her daughter were telling a story.
-A thick haired beauty and her baldheaded mother -
a sort of canny glory unfolded on a wide lipped stage.
It was a room disguised for conference
but arranged for corporate blunder.
But, through their story silence thundered,
interrupted only by laughter.
Language and pauses, riding on heartbeat
were minced with sorrow like an onion
thinly sliced and unseen.
It entranced us, made us whole.

they talked about cancer
survival, connection, and union.
made us victorious
banished fear
teaching making friends with death
to create a ceaseless reunion.

It is no surprise that Nancy's death
was shared and our hearts pried open.
She unrelentingly never stopped in the
middle;
never stopped even at
the end,
She reminded us of all our soul's transcendence
and of friendship not forgotten.
In this trusting, she remains.

(Laura Simms, September 7, 2004)

Laura Simms serves on the Advisory Committee of the Healing Story Alliance. Simms storytelling includes working with survivors of 9/11 in New York City, where she lives.