Cap’s Off to You! – Dylan Pritchett (Posthumously) and Celebrating Story

For more than three decades, Dylan Prtichett walked into schools, museums, historic sites, sanctuaries, and gathering places with the steady presence of someone who understood the weight and wonder of history. He told stories not to perform them, but to restore them—especially those handed down through African American and ancestral memory. “Let’s be true with truth in our story,” he once reminded fellow storytellers. “Our ancestors are listening.” That belief shaped everything: the research he pursued, the characters he embodied, and the reverence he carried for the people whose voices had been quieted. When he spoke, audiences leaned forward because they knew he spoke with love, depth, and intention.

To those who worked beside him, Dylan was more than a performer—he was a guide. Curators like Martha Katz-Hyman remembered how his encouragement carried them through difficult and delicate work. “Dylan was always there, encouraging us; his wide smile and kind words made me proud of what I was doing.” Michelle Carr Clawson, who called him her brother of 41 years, said they shared dreams, prayers, and the responsibility to “tell the other half of the story.” And from decades of friendships formed in Colonial Williamsburg, the Fifes and Drums, and the National Association of Black Storytellers, the testimony was the same: Dylan lifted people. He listened fully. He inspired confidence. He helped others see the meaning in what they were doing, because he saw the meaning in what he was doing.

Yet it was his approach to life—gentle, steadfast, deeply rooted—that people return to most. His daughter Shannan described how he insisted they know where they came from, not as an academic exercise but as a grounding of identity and pride. Friends remembered how he would say, “Breathe…” when someone needed space to settle. Dylan himself modeled reflection with a clarity that felt like wisdom spoken softly. After visiting his son on his 34th birthday, he wrote: “What mattered was I took the time to say what I said and do what I did. The moment was more meaningful to me in the doing.” He understood presence as a kind of love. He understood memory as inheritance.

Dylan also lived with an awareness of life’s fragility, shaped by losing his father at a young age. Each year he honored that memory by urging others to cherish the people still within reach: “For those you love… love them! For those you relish in friendship, find time to laugh with them. For those you need to forgive… forgive them… It don’t take long to go away from here.” Yet even in this honesty, he carried resilience. During difficult times he wrote, “We’ve been this way before… depending on the community to provide the basic necessities of life and hope was a daily occurrence.” His faith—quiet, unwavering—was a compass that pointed him toward compassion and service.

And so, when people describe Dylan Pritchett now, they use words like peacemaker, brother, mentor, griot. They remember a voice “like drumming through the darkness,” as poet Lara Templin wrote. They remember the laughter, the steady leadership, the way he filled a room without ever needing to dominate it. They remember how he made stories feel alive—how he made them feel alive. His family invited the world to celebrate him not in black, but in cowry shells and kente, because joy mattered to him. Spirit mattered to him. And story mattered most of all. Dylan Pritchett lived his story boldly, beautifully, and generously—and now it continues in every person he taught, encouraged, or inspired to keep the stories going forward.

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 Dylan Pritchett with the Story Artists Memorial.

Enjoy this video featuring Dylan Pritchett that includes an interview and performance:

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. 

I remember meeting Dylan Pritchett at the National Association of Black Storytellers’ 41st conference—the first time in its history that NABS gathered in Salt Lake City. Dylan was instantly unforgettable: jovial, grounded, and effortlessly organized, a true pillar of strength for that landmark event and for every moment that followed. His spirit continues in the community he strengthened—with every storyteller he encouraged, every truth he lifted, and every room he brightened simply by being in it.

Dylan Pritchett still has a story. You have a story. We all have stories.

Cap’s Off to You! – Michael Perry (Posthumously) and Celebrating Story

Michael Perry had the rare gift of making every space he entered a stage, and every audience a collaborator. Whether in a school auditorium, under a circus tent, or at a storytelling festival, Michael invited people to breathe with him, to pause, and to enter a world where humor and humanity walked hand in hand. A graduate of Ringling Bros. Clown College and a veteran performer, he understood that clowning was never just about red noses or oversized shoes—it was about connection, timing, and heart. One colleague remembered him at a storytelling workshop, saying, “Although I was only able to participate in part of your workshop, the simple steps you referenced were transformative. An ‘aha’ moment. Thank you for that gift.” That was Michael—playful yet profound, always leaving space for others to discover their own moments of insight.

Michael’s storytelling was inseparable from his clowning. In his one-man show Saving Face: Memoir of a Circus Clown, he brought audiences into the interior world of a performer’s heart, balancing laughter with reflection. From the stage, he famously declared, “You can’t kill a clown.” It was not just a line, but a philosophy: laughter, like storytelling, is a resilient thread that weaves through life’s ups and downs. Fellow performer John McHugh reflected on sharing the stage with him: “We shared a clowning background which included the circus and a national clown character. His timing, gestures, and presence made every story come alive. I’ll always remember the way he could make a room feel both playful and deeply connected.”

Beyond performance, Michael shared his craft generously. Michael F. Palmosina II recalled, “He was likeable from the start. Friendly, engaging, and funny. During a performance for children at Variety Pittsburgh, I watched him capture every child’s attention, weaving magic and storytelling together. Even the children who were challenged in various ways were captivated, and you could see their delight on their faces.” His influence extended into workshops as well. Misty Mator shared, “He was wise about validating difficulties while helping you find the laughter in everything. You could feel the joy because of his presence and his understanding that sorrow and joy live side by side.”

Family, friends, and colleagues remember him as a source of curiosity and encouragement. Guy Russo described him as “one of the truly finest human beings we have ever known. His ability to turn everyday moments into stories of humor and insight was extraordinary.” Each reflection echoes the life Michael lived: full of warmth, generosity, and a playful curiosity that touched everyone he met. His daughter Jen wrote, “My father was my light, my hope, my hero… the moral to his story being not to let the joy die. I won’t let the joy die, Dad.”

Even in his final moments, Michael was performing. He left this world having just shared the performance of a lifetime, reminding all of us of the sacred joy that comes from storytelling. His laughter, lessons, and stories continue to ripple through the communities he touched—in classrooms, theaters, and hearts alike. In every punchline delivered, every pause that held meaning, and every smile he evoked, Michael Perry’s spirit remains. The clown cannot be killed, and neither can the storyteller who made joy and connection his life’s work.

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 Michael Perry with the Story Artists Memorial.

Enjoy this video featuring Michael Perry below:

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. 

I remember Michael Perry at the National Storytelling Conferences, always smiling and inviting everyone to join in the fun while opening their minds to new perspectives. His clowning and storytelling were one and the same—full of humor, heart, and generosity. Every laugh he sparked and every story he shared left a lasting impression on those lucky enough to be in his circle. Michael’s spirit lives on in the joy and connection he created wherever he performed.

Michael Perry still has a story. You have a story. We all have stories.

Cap’s Off to You! – Baba Jamal Koram (Posthumously) and Celebrating Story

Baba Jamal Koram, master storyteller, mentor, and cultural leader, passed away on June 11, 2025. Known as the “storyteller’s storyteller,” he shared African and African American oral traditions with a humility and power that drew people close and left them changed.

Story Crossroads was honored to host Baba Jamal at our inaugural festival in 2016, thanks to the Nubian Storytellers of Utah Leadership, affiliated with the National Association of Black Storytellers. From the moment he stepped onto the stage, audiences were wrapped in the rhythms of his jembe drum and the truth of his words. As one listener reflected after his performance, “He didn’t just tell stories—he created a circle where everyone belonged.”

His artistry was matched by his devotion to community. Whether in schools, libraries, prisons, or theaters, Baba Jamal believed deeply in the power of story to uplift. He shared that power not only across the United States but also abroad, in South Africa and Germany. Storyteller Charlotte Blake Alston once said of him, “Jamal carried the traditions with reverence, but he also carried us—he lifted us higher every time he spoke.”

Baba Jamal’s life was a balance of rhythm, wisdom, and love. He mentored young storytellers, built programs and Rites of Passage camps, and became a guiding elder whose presence was both grounding and inspiring. His work was recognized with honors such as the Zora Neale Hurston Award from the National Association of Black Storytellers and the Circle of Excellence Oracle Award from the National Storytelling Network, yet those who knew him remember first his kindness. As Mama Linda Goss, co-founder of NABS, once said, “Jamal was a brother in the truest sense—steady, generous, and always ready with a story that healed.”

He leaves behind his wife, children, and grandchildren, as well as generations of listeners and storytellers who carry forward his legacy. At Story Crossroads, we remember him with gratitude for the gift of his presence in our early days, and we join the worldwide community in honoring a man whose stories still sing in our hearts.

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 Baba Jamal Koram with the Story Artists Memorial.

Enjoy this video featuring Baba Jamal Koram below:

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. 

I remember when I first heard Baba Jamal Koram tell a story. Little did I know that his beauty of language was more than words and rhythm but of presence as well. His legacy of story, drum, and wisdom lives on in every circle he created and every heart he touched. Through his voice, his guidance, and his vision, Baba Jamal continues to remind us of the strength, resilience, and love within the human spirit.

Baba Jamal Koram still has a story. You have a story. We all have stories.