When I saw the news of Robert Redford’s passing, I said, “Ahh,” like I’d just been punched in the stomach. It was physical. I felt like a crucial lifeline had just been severed.

As an actor and a director, Redford touched millions of people. As a passionate, determined force supporting independent filmmaking, he directly touched me. Sundance and The Sundance Institute changed my life.

I first met Robert Redford several years before I’d made my first film. I somehow got a job on The Natural as a stand-in. One day after lunch, I accidentally found myself seated alone at a picnic table with Redford and director Barry Levinson. They were talking about shooting a pilot for a TV series. Feeling that my MFA in Directing from NYU made me eligible to join the discussion, I asked the smartest question I could think of: “What’s a pilot?”

They stopped talking, and Levinson looked at me for a long moment. The only sound was the distant lowing of some cows.

The next time I saw Robert Redford was at midnight on a frigid, snowy night at Sundance. I was with my wife Jane, Catherine Keener, Dermot Mulroney, and other members of the cast of Living In Oblivion. We had just crossed a deserted street when another group of people walked past us.

Someone said, “Tom?”

I turned, and it was Redford. He walked up and shook my hand. Then he greeted everyone and began to speak to me in detail about Living In Oblivion. An intensely surreal moment developed. The people in my group stepped back a bit, as did the people in his group. The two of us spoke quietly for several minutes, with fine, dry snowflakes glittering down through the streetlight.

Then a woman in his group called out, “Are we cold enough yet!?” And the moment snapped quickly back into reality; an instant later, they were gone. But, there is no doubt in my mind that he would have stood there talking with me for another hour.

That was the Robert Redford I knew. When he spoke to you, you felt the connection on the most basic, personal level. The energy that flowed from him was almost solar. He had a focus, a clarity, a truthfulness, and a generosity that was absolutely genuine--and effortless.

What he accomplished in his life was greatly impressive. What he did for American Independent Film was beyond staggering. In a business that thrives on money, power, and the brutal reality of the survival of the fittest, he created a Home for us. He created a family, a support system, a place where you felt accepted, welcomed, and respected.

I’d never experienced anything like it. What a gift. Thank you, Bob—for everything.

Especially for not mentioning the incident at the picnic table.