Story Crossroads

Cap’s Off to You! – Don Doyle (Posthumously) and Celebrating Story

Don Doyle was recognized as a 2004 recipient of the Oracle Award for Lifetime Achievement from the National Storytelling Network—one of the highest honors in the field. A Professor Emeritus of Theatre at Arizona State University, he spent decades shaping artists, audiences, and the very landscape of storytelling in Arizona and beyond. Yet more than titles or accolades, it is the chorus of voices rising in his memory that tells the truest story: Don Doyle was a mentor first, a friend forever, and a luminous presence in every room he entered.

Rives Collins saw Don Doyle as a friend and mentor and said, “Thank you, Don, for all you gave to the world; I am infinitely richer for having known you.” Donna Washington shared, “My storytelling grandfather has left the stage. He was a bright light in this world.” Across posts and messages came the same refrain: “Beautiful man. Immense loss. Incredible legacy.” “A true legend.” “One of the best humans I’ve encountered in my life.”

His students and colleagues speak of a generosity that shaped careers and lives. Katie McFadzen reflected, “I wouldn’t be in the business of [Theatre of Young Audiences] if I hadn’t studied with Don Doyle at [Arizona State University].” Jenn Hartmann Luck remembered being an “unknowing beneficiary” of his work in arts education before later becoming a Don and Elizabeth Doyle Fellow: “His stories, his career, his championing of incredible storytelling for children—I was so honored to know him.” Dustin Loehr shared, “He taught me how to live my stories on stage, and tap dance through my challenges… Forever grateful for his love and guidance.” Over and over, artists credit him not just with technique, but with belief.

Many recall his gentle humor and steadfast encouragement. Patrick Moore remembered “his gentle humor and his commitment to excellence,” imagining him “up with the angels, telling them stories they thought they knew, in a whole new way.” Louisa Serrone Beilan wrote, “His unassuming demeanor was what set him apart. So humble and gentle but such a strong influence. His smile was a warm sunbeam.” In rehearsal halls, classrooms, festivals, and conferences, he was a steady presence in the corner, cheering others on—sometimes calling himself the “grandpa of the group,” always making space for the next generation.

And perhaps the most fitting tribute comes from the way he lived his art. In his own story, “Am I a Man?”, Don wrestled with tenderness, courage, and identity—questions that shaped not only his storytelling but his life in theatre, education, and community. From founding festivals to mentoring fellows, from directing productions to guiding tellers toward their own voices, he helped thousands “break a leg” and find their light. As one mourner wrote, “We stand on the shoulders of giants and he was one of those giants.” This memorial, then, is not an ending but a feast: a gathering of gratitude, laughter, sparkle-eyed memories, and stories still being told because Don Doyle first believed they could be.

If you have links to add – video, audio, articles – please share by emailing info@storycrossroads.org or commenting on this blog post.

You can see more details on Don Doyle with the Story Artists Memorial.

Jordan Hill shared the story “The Ruby,” learned from Don Doyle—a fitting tribute to a man who so faithfully mentored, guided, and passed stories from heart to heart.

Do you know a Story Artist who has passed on and want others to remember them? Memories? Pictures? You can submit names and memories of Story Artists who have passed on through our online form.

Don Doyle was my mentor through the J.J. Reneaux Mentorship Grant. I did not know him personally when I reached out—only that a trusted friend had recommended him. I took a chance. From the moment I met him in Arizona, he welcomed me as if we had known each other for years. There was no distance, no pretense—only warmth, curiosity, and generosity. Yes, he taught me craft. He guided me through techniques like French Scenes and helped me move past frozen or gilded moments in performance. But far beyond skill-building, he taught me how to be human. How to be kind.

His mentorship was never just about the stage—it was about the soul of the artist. When I presented my full one-hour piece on Hephaestus, he called and told me he wished he could fly from Arizona to Utah to be there. I was taken aback. That he would even consider such a journey for me spoke volumes about who he was. I may have had only a chapter of time with him, but I can only imagine the countless actors, storytellers, students, colleagues, and neighbors who carry entire libraries of memories in his honor. I look forward to seeing him—and Elizabeth—again after earth time.

Don Doyle still has a story. You have a story. We all have stories.

Cap’s Off to You! – Doug Lipman (Posthumously) and Celebrating Story

Doug Lipman did not simply tell stories; he changed the way people understood what stories are, how they live, and how they endure. While deeply rooted in oral tradition, Doug was also unafraid of new tools, often among the first to gently embrace emerging technology as a way to support reflection, learning, and preservation—never as a substitute for human connection, but as an aid to it. Just as importantly, he helped lead the field in naming the ethical responsibilities of storytellers: how stories are held, shared, shaped, and returned with care and respect.

For decades, Doug stood as one of the most influential figures in the contemporary storytelling world—a teacher, coach, performer, and thinker whose ideas reshaped how generations of tellers listen, imagine, and connect. He often challenged the notion that stories are fixed objects, insisting instead that they are “vehicles for dynamic interactions between minds.” This belief was not theoretical for him; it was lived, practiced, and generously shared, whether in classrooms, workshops, conferences, or one-on-one conversations that left people feeling seen, capable, and braver than before.

Doug’s path into storytelling began in a place of resistance. As a teacher working with adolescents labeled “highly resistant” and struggling with behavior challenges, he once told a story simply to see what might happen. What happened was transformation. The students responded deeply, and Doug never turned away from the power he witnessed that day. From that moment forward, he devoted his life to helping others experience storytelling not as performance polish, but as a human birthright—something organic, relational, and alive. His teaching carried this ethos everywhere, from his foundational books like Improving Your Storytelling and The Storytelling Coach to his widely shared talks, including his TEDxWilmingtonSalon presentation on connection.

What so many remember most about Doug was not just his brilliance, but the way he listened. Storytellers across the world speak of his gift for “listening with delight,” a practice that centered curiosity, generosity, and genuine presence. Denise Clegg Bennett reflected that Doug “taught by helping the teller discover for her/him/their self what a story needed to become clearer or stronger—and that work was never just about the story.” Kim Abplanalp remembered feeling safe and heard simply by being in his presence. Linda Poland shared that during her grief after losing her husband, Doug called her often, inviting memories and listening with care as he helped her shape their shared story. His coaching was personal, focused, and forever heartfelt.

Doug’s influence rippled outward in countless, often quiet ways. Jill Howe credits him with a single idea that changed her life: inviting people together to tell stories and give feedback—an idea that grew into Friends with Words, a storytelling community that has now met over 150 times. Drea Douglas recalls how Doug reshaped her introduction for him at an NSN conference, turning a brief exchange into a lasting lesson in generosity and craft. Joe Pagliuca remembers being astonished to see a master storyteller taking a workshop himself, only to be told by Doug that “there’s always more to learn about storytelling.” Again and again, people describe moments where Doug lifted their voice, sharpened their listening, or quietly expanded their sense of what was possible.

As a thinker, Doug articulated ideas that continue to guide the field. He named and dismantled common fallacies—such as the belief that stories are made of words rather than images, or that stories are assembled rather than grown—inviting tellers to trust imagination, interaction, and discovery. “The job of the teller,” he taught, “is not to present the story exactly, but to stimulate listeners or readers to imagine and interpret the story in their own unique way.” His Image Riding work, co-taught later with Steffani Raff, embodied this philosophy, offering storytellers tools to deepen connection without ever flattening individuality. Judy Clapper aptly called him a “Founding Father of Storytelling Coaching,” noting how many modern coaching practices trace directly back to Doug’s work.

One small, luminous moment near the end of Doug’s life captures the heart of his teaching. In February 2025, storyteller Zariya Lufu shared a vulnerable reflection after Doug asked her what people often criticize her for. When she named being “too much”—too sensitive, too emotional, too expressive—Doug gently invited her to name the strength within that very trait. Zariya identified depth, vulnerability, attunement, and empathy. Doug’s public response was simple and affirming: “Thanks for spreading these ideas, Zariya!” In that brief exchange, he modeled what so many experienced with him: an ability to recognize the gift inside someone’s self-doubt, and to amplify it with generosity rather than judgment.

That same generosity defined Doug’s deep collaborative relationships, including his work with Steffani Raff around Image Riding. Whether co-teaching with Doug or carrying the work forward on her own with his blessing, Steffani helped steward and evolve a practice rooted in imagination, presence, and trust. After Doug’s passing, she shared simply, “I’m having trouble finding words for this kind of loss.” Those few words echo the depth of their connection and the weight felt by so many who learned beside him. Through Steffani and others who continue this work, Image Riding remains not a fixed method, but a living practice—very much in the spirit Doug taught.

Doug Lipman received the National Storytelling Network’s Lifetime Achievement Award in 2017 for his sustained and exemplary contributions, but his true legacy cannot be measured in accolades. It lives in the stories told with greater courage, in the listeners who learned to delight rather than judge, and in the communities built around care, curiosity, and shared imagination. As Donna Washington wrote, “We lost another Elder today. Doug Lipman has left the stage.” And yet, as Rives Collins reminded us, the ripple effects of his work will outlive us all. Doug’s stories—and his way of being with stories—continue through every teller he helped along the way. May his memory be for a blessing.

If you have links to add – video, audio, articles – please share by emailing info@storycrossroads.org or commenting on this blog post.

You can see more details on Doug Lipman with the Story Artists Memorial.

Enjoy this video that is a tribute to Doug Lipman:

Doug Lipman’s impact on my work was steady, formative, and deeply ethical. For decades, Doug hosted my website—a quiet but meaningful act of support that reflected how he showed up everywhere else, with care and consistency. He encouraged me to discover my own journey of storytelling ethics by asking what Doug might say in moments of uncertainty, and by holding that reflection alongside Bok’s Model as a guiding framework. It was through Doug that I first heard—and immediately loved—the word co-creative, a concept that named the shared responsibility between teller and listener that I strive to honor in my work.

Doug Lipman still has a story. You have a story. We all have stories.

Cap’s Off to You! – Barbara Reed (Posthumously) and Celebrating Story

Barbara Reed is celebrated in the storytelling world not simply as a gifted teller, but as a visionary builder—someone who saw what storytelling could be and then set about making it real. At a time when storytelling was often marginalized or misunderstood, Barbara recognized its deep human necessity. She believed, with quiet conviction and relentless energy, that storytelling belonged everywhere: in schools, libraries, community halls, festivals, and unlikely corners where people gathered. Her guiding belief that “everyone is a storyteller and everyone is a storylistener” became more than a mantra; it became a philosophy that reshaped Connecticut’s cultural landscape and influenced the national storytelling movement.

One of Barbara Reed’s most enduring legacies is the creation of the Connecticut Storytelling Festival and the Connecticut Storytelling Center. What began as a single conference grew—through her persistence, imagination, and sheer will—into a major annual gathering that drew thousands of tellers and listeners. Barbara didn’t just curate performances; she designed experiences that invited participation, reflection, and courage. She made room for nationally known artists and first-time tellers alike, believing that storytelling flourishes when voices at every stage are welcomed. The festival became a pilgrimage site for storytellers, not because it was flashy, but because it was rooted in generosity, listening, and purpose.

Barbara was also a tireless mentor and educator, particularly devoted to nurturing beginning storytellers. Through her teaching at Connecticut College and her leadership in workshops and sharing circles across the state, she helped countless people discover their own storytelling voices. She had an extraordinary ability to demystify storytelling—reminding students that they already knew how to tell stories, that it was a natural human act rather than a rare talent. Many storytellers trace their confidence, careers, or sense of belonging directly back to Barbara’s encouragement and belief in them.

What set Barbara Reed apart was not only her vision, but her willingness to do the work. She brought stories into classrooms, senior centers, libraries, bars, puppet houses, and community spaces that others might overlook. She believed deeply in reaching audiences who had never encountered live storytelling and delighted in those moments of first discovery. Whether clearing away beer cans before a family program or stepping onto a punk-rock stage with complete faith in the power of story, Barbara demonstrated that storytelling belongs wherever people are willing to listen.

Today, the Barbara Reed Award—presented annually by the Connecticut Storytelling Center—stands as a living tribute to her spirit. The award honors individuals who embody her values: leadership, service, inclusion, and an unwavering commitment to storytelling as a force for connection and transformation. We celebrate Barbara Reed not only for what she accomplished, but for what she made possible for others. Her legacy lives on every time a new storyteller finds their voice, every time a listener feels seen, and every time a community gathers to share stories—because Barbara Reed insisted that stories matter, and then showed us how to build a world that proves it.

If you have links to add – video, audio, articles – please share by emailing info@storycrossroads.org or commenting on this blog post.

You can see more details on Barbara Reed with the Story Artists Memorial.

Enjoy this video that is a tribute to Barbara Reed:

I never had the privilege of meeting Barbara Reed, yet as a producer and organizer of storytelling events, I recognize her immediately in the work itself. I see her in the boldness it takes to imagine a festival where none exists, in the persistence required to build structures that allow stories—and storytellers—to thrive, and in the generosity of spirit that centers both teller and listener as essential. Through those of us who continue to build, convene, and believe, her vision keeps unfolding.

Barbara Reed still has a story. You have a story. We all have stories.