On May 3, EnergyCAP lost a member of its family, Dan Zettle. May 16 would have been Dan’s 42nd birthday.
As a software engineer, Dan was a member of the implementation solutions team. He served EnergyCAP clients behind the scenes—helping with installations, data migrations, setups, and customizations. The people he helped didn’t know he had helped them.
That was like Dan.
Those who worked closest with Dan knew him as a silent servant who wanted to help however way he could. On one occasion, Dan ran into one of his coworkers out of the office. Dan looked with wide-eyed wonder at their new baby girl. From his heart, he offered encouragements to them as new parents.
That was like Dan too—an observer, a discoverer, with a big heart.
We take this opportunity to honor our friend and colleague.
Dan was born, May 16, 1971, in Bellefonte, PA, a son of James and his late mother Nancy. Dan graduated from Jersey Shore High School and attended Lycoming College and Massachusetts Institute of Technology.
As a programmer, Dan worked for various internet startups before joining EnergyCAP, Inc.
In his spare time, Dan enjoyed nature. He loved hiking, bicycling, planting, and arranging flowers. He was also an avid participant in the choral and instrumental arts.
As a member of the Tour Choir and Chamber Choir, Dan traveled throughout Germany, Poland, and Czechoslovakia, staying with host families and learning their cultures. Later he was a member of the San Francisco Gay Men’s Chorus, the Harrisburg Men’s Chorus, and the State College Choral Society.
Dan’s best friend was Smokey, his beautiful black lab. He and Smokey went on many adventures together, exploring the uniqueness of the United States.
In addition to his father, Dan is survived by three brothers, two sisters-in law, four nephews, and one niece.
We’re reminded after losing one of our own, that death comes to us all. This is the hard and bitter truth.
However, the good thing about death is its ability to motivate. Death can breathe fresh perspective and reorder priorities. When you know death is coming, it can recharge the way you live.
When you die, you won’t get a do-over, so:
Perhaps one of Dan’s last gifts to us is a refocus on what matters. Thank you, Dan, you’re still serving.