They say that in a hundred years no one will even know we existed. Perhaps less in most cases...
It is now some 40 years since my friend Dennis lost his life while serving in the Vietnam War, and I worry that memories of him will soon be lost too, far short of the century mark. Nevertheless, for sure, I will not forget him, so he will live on for the immediate future at least.
I didn't go to his funeral. Karen and I were in Germany at the time, so I was only able to write a letter of condolence to his parents. For some reason, I felt that he visited me there in Frankfurt while I grieved. It was if I could feel his presence... probably just some romantic notion of mine to ease the pain...and it was then that I made a mental promise to him... that I would keep him in my thoughts and share my life experiences with him, and in return, he would come for me at my death and assist my transition to the next life.
Over the years I have found that my promise has been easy to keep...He has been my spiritual companion through good and bad; I’m now into my third marriage, while raising two great kids and numerous life events, both memorable and some that I was ashamed to have him witness.. But he was there nonetheless, and he will be there for me too when my time comes...
My best recollection of him goes back to our times together in junior and senior high school. He was cool... Dennis was always dressed well. His typical outfit was a snug fitting sweater (I believe his favorite was in shades of brown and beige with wide horizontal stripes), slim cut pants and boots. He was a little pigeon toed, so his boots would scuff occasionally as he walked. His dark brown hair was always meticulous. He always had a fresh crew cut... flat on top, tapered up from around the ears and just long enough on top to level it. He wore heavy dark horned-rimmed glasses as was the style in the late 50's... just like Buddy Holly.
He was very cool. In a very reserved sort of way... I remember he would hold a cigarette in his hand with his wrist bent down so the cigarette hung low from his downward pointing fingertips. Then, he would rotate the tips of his fingers up in the fashion of British Royalty about to powder their noses, and take a drag of his smoke... I don't think his parents ever knew he smoked. He went to great lengths so they would not find out...
This was even before his dad got the Dodge Charger that made him very cool... I think his dad had that very intention when he bought it... Dennis had a certain masculine delicateness about him..., which was evident in the way he conducted and carried himself... clean cut... soft-spoken, intelligent... It was a source of sadness, as on occasion, as he attracted mean-spirited bullies looking for a fight... I remember once one of the school bully's was picking on Dennis trying to egg him into a fight, which would have not been a fight at all, because Dennis didn't have the temperament to fight... He was too refined for that sort of thing... and I found myself stepping in to help him out... My intervention happened on the way to school, and, I had to agree to a fight at lunch... There was plenty of time for word to spread around the school, and the fight drew a big crowd... I ended up brawling outside of the school with this brute who just loved hitting people... Well, the brute came to find out I had done my share of scrapping, and he was evenly matched...He wanted to hit the face for dramatic effect... Lucky for me he missed more than he hit and finally I hit him in the stomach and knocked the wind out of him to finish it... and when it was over, a few of my teachers winked in appreciation for what I had done while lecturing me about fighting.. Hell, I played Clarinet and was interested in Art... not exactly the fighting type myself... Any way, it was one of the better things I've done in my life... I owe a debt of gratitude to Dennis for that....
And he played the French horn in the Orchestra, which meant he could sit next to Leone Van Tyne... lucky stiff... but that is another story...
We gave him a tough time... His parents kept him on a short lead, and he spent many evenings at home while the others of us stayed up at a friend’s playing cards, drinking beer.. We were good kids, and besides our parents were home drinking beer and playing cards too...We were prone to pranks in those days, and who made a better target than Dennis? He is home... his parents are pretty straight... Why not? One night in particular stands out. It was very late... we had been at Chuck's drinking beer for several hours, and we decided to toilet paper Groff's.. To get enough paper, we had to go out in three or four cars... so we would not be buying too much at any one convenience store and raising suspicion... We loaded up on toilet paper and met back at my house, which was pretty near to Groff's... Our job of toilet papering his house was so good, it was almost embarrassing... the house was covered, the trees were full, even the bushes around the house were white... But as these things will, it got a little out of hand... someone decided to put a flashing beacon on the front porch... and ring the bell... I think I saw Mr. Groff standing in the doorway looking over a pile of debris behind a flashing red and yellow lamp that should have been warning cars away from some street work... Then the police came, and there were squad cars everywhere... some got away in cars, some took off on foot... a few of the guys got caught.. They knew who did it... all in good fun, not a hint of malicious intent... so things worked themselves out... Nevertheless, that memory lingered and I always wondered just what his parents did think of us... Did they know we really liked Dennis and that he was one of us? Or did they think we were just mean-spirited kids trashing their son's house to humiliate him?
Dennis was serious, intelligent and a thinker, but in no stretch of the imagination was he Army material. He just didn't have the toughness required for someone going to Viet Nam, and I have no idea how they made him a Medic corpsman and he didn't try out for the Army band as I did... I lost sleep over it, and between his friends, we voiced our worry for his safety, even his ability to survive.
It was a call from my mom that brought the news of his death. "How did he die?" I asked. "We aren't sure, but we think it was a jeep accident. A roll over" was the reply.
"Oh,..."
I cried, and Karen comforted me. I still remember the silence we shared in our kitchen as the darkness of evening and the reality of his death sunk in... That was the first time in my life I was compelled to write something. I don't remember the note other than my staring at the lined spiral paper and wondering what do you say to the parents? He is dead... I am alive... I'm so sorry. I knew that if I were his parents, I would be wishing it were someone else's child who had died, even one of his friends and now they must accept the condolences from one of them who is safe in Germany and Dennis is being flown back to the States for his funeral.
I had seen that look too many times... Each day as I rode the streetcar out to my duty station on the edge of Frankfurt towards Bonames some of the older women would stare holes through me... I could see the pain in their eyes. So many of their sons and husbands had died in the war, and here is this young American, part of the occupying forces. On our streetcar... "And where is my Hans?" The lingering stares signaled their being lost in thought, their sadness and loss.
Later, I learned that Peter was home from the Marines, and attended the funeral in his uniform. Mrs. Groff became upset at the sight and Peter had to leave. How very sad.
I never received an acknowledgement of my letter from his parents, and I never went to see them. Why should I remind them that I was ok, and he was never coming home? One day in the first month we were back Karen and I were shopping in Penny's where Mrs. Groff worked. She saw me, and our eyes met for a split second. They were cold, and I didn't approach her, nor did she search me out. That was awful beyond words, and it marked me for life. Little did she know how much Dennis meant to me, to all of us, and I never was able to tell them in person how bad I felt. A tragedy for both of us.
I suppose that they are gone now too. Perhaps his younger brother is still around. Maybe I should tell him, just how important his brother was to me and how I keep him in my life. Before I'm gone too, and the memories of Dennis fade even more.
I remember Dennis a bit but after the wonderful comments from Marty I don't think too much else can be said. I'm glad that someone wrote such a wonder memorial comment and I'm sure that there are others out there from the "old neighborhood" that appreciate what Marty had to say--Thank you Marty!!
Thanks Marty for reliving Dennis' life as you so beautifully have. Your description of Dennis was to a tee and your memories were wonderully penned. Personally I did not have much contact with Dennis, but your memory to Dennis brings back my memory of another classmate Craig Harff. He was at least our classmate until Tremper began.
I have written an account of Craig that I could send anyone who remembers him. We met in Uijongbu, Korea three weeks before his sudden death and like you Marty, my memories of Craig will always be with me.
Yoiur discription and insights of Dennis were perfectly spoken, I remember Dennis in English Class and remember how often he spoke having fun, Your were so right he was cool in a quiet sort of way, thanks for your great artistic description of Dennis. Isn't raw how Uncle Sam could take a sub dued teen and make him into an animal. Dont get off the track Bob, thanks for posting Marty. God be with Dennis.
Marty Sturino
Judy Bleashka (Bilotti)
I remember Dennis a bit but after the wonderful comments from Marty I don't think too much else can be said. I'm glad that someone wrote such a wonder memorial comment and I'm sure that there are others out there from the "old neighborhood" that appreciate what Marty had to say--Thank you Marty!!
John Wells
Thanks Marty for reliving Dennis' life as you so beautifully have. Your description of Dennis was to a tee and your memories were wonderully penned. Personally I did not have much contact with Dennis, but your memory to Dennis brings back my memory of another classmate Craig Harff. He was at least our classmate until Tremper began.
I have written an account of Craig that I could send anyone who remembers him. We met in Uijongbu, Korea three weeks before his sudden death and like you Marty, my memories of Craig will always be with me.
Regards,
John
Bob Callahan
Marty:
Yoiur discription and insights of Dennis were perfectly spoken, I remember Dennis in English Class and remember how often he spoke having fun, Your were so right he was cool in a quiet sort of way, thanks for your great artistic description of Dennis. Isn't raw how Uncle Sam could take a sub dued teen and make him into an animal. Dont get off the track Bob, thanks for posting Marty. God be with Dennis.