Too short of a life for Dennis Talkington. I was not surprised when he joined the marines; he was always positive and outgoing; he wanted to make a difference. In the early 80's I had returned to HHS as math teacher and coach. Around 1981 I became an assistant principal at Haltom High. One day I had a student come in with the last name of Talkington. I asked if she was related to Dennis, and she was his baby sister; she too graduated from Haltom High.
Dennis was a good friend and I was saddened to hear he had been killed. I followed him, going to Vietnam in 1969, but was fortunate enough to return home. I always remembered that Dennis gave the last full measure of devotion, as Marines often do. A good and dedicated guy. And another reminder of how fortunate all of us are to have had a full life.
I continue to be saddened by all our friends who have passed away before their time. But having known them was a blessing to us.
I, too, thought highly of Dennis. A couple of years after his death, I happened to talk to his mother. She asked me what I did after high school. When I told her where I went to college, she said, "I wish he had."
Dennis was a best friend, and his mom my second mom. He was the oldest of a bunch of kids, and couldn't afford college. The rest of us were going to this and that school. Late senior year, he was reading a pulp novel about wild marines. Then one summer evening I dropped by his house and his folks were shook up; he'd gone to Dallas to sign up with a class of Marine recruits. I drove to talk to him. John Goin came along and another boy, I forget whom. Found Dennis in a hotel room with a dozen guys, and realized he was going through with it. He knew nothing about Vietnam or the war. Nothing about politics. He just wanted to have something to DO. GO somewhere. Live. He was shot in 1965, while running across a field, and died instantly. Several years later, guys who were there with him came by his folks' house and said that Dennis was a natural leader, quiet, solid, brave, likable, easy to be around. So they knew him.
Mrs. Talkington, Anna Mae, never wrote letters. But one day a letter came to Austin. Her son, Jerry, had driven her to D.C. to see Dennis's name on the Vietnam memorial. I'd told her that I'd been there. She wrote, "I made it." She included a shading of his name.
I came home from NTSU one weekend and my mother said, "Dennis has been killed. The marines came to his house." I stood in my room and didn't move for a while. Then I went over there. It was awful. There was this moment. I was there and across the room his mom was on the phone. She hung up the phone, and looked up and we made eye contact, and she burst into tears. I said, "I'm so sorry," and we hugged. It was an awful time, but one of the awesome moments of my life. I miss him and his parents.
Pat Minnick
Dennis died in Vietnam, March 1966. He was a United States Marine.
Jay Thompson (Thompson)
Too short of a life for Dennis Talkington. I was not surprised when he joined the marines; he was always positive and outgoing; he wanted to make a difference. In the early 80's I had returned to HHS as math teacher and coach. Around 1981 I became an assistant principal at Haltom High. One day I had a student come in with the last name of Talkington. I asked if she was related to Dennis, and she was his baby sister; she too graduated from Haltom High.
Billy Arnold
What a neat guy Dennis was, I never even knew he died in Vietnam, way to early for such a wonderful person. So very sad.
Jim Angle
Dennis was a good friend and I was saddened to hear he had been killed. I followed him, going to Vietnam in 1969, but was fortunate enough to return home. I always remembered that Dennis gave the last full measure of devotion, as Marines often do. A good and dedicated guy. And another reminder of how fortunate all of us are to have had a full life.
I continue to be saddened by all our friends who have passed away before their time. But having known them was a blessing to us.
Lynn Waller (Waller)
I, too, thought highly of Dennis. A couple of years after his death, I happened to talk to his mother. She asked me what I did after high school. When I told her where I went to college, she said, "I wish he had."
Bob Harverstick
Dennis was a best friend, and his mom my second mom. He was the oldest of a bunch of kids, and couldn't afford college. The rest of us were going to this and that school. Late senior year, he was reading a pulp novel about wild marines. Then one summer evening I dropped by his house and his folks were shook up; he'd gone to Dallas to sign up with a class of Marine recruits. I drove to talk to him. John Goin came along and another boy, I forget whom. Found Dennis in a hotel room with a dozen guys, and realized he was going through with it. He knew nothing about Vietnam or the war. Nothing about politics. He just wanted to have something to DO. GO somewhere. Live. He was shot in 1965, while running across a field, and died instantly. Several years later, guys who were there with him came by his folks' house and said that Dennis was a natural leader, quiet, solid, brave, likable, easy to be around. So they knew him.
Mrs. Talkington, Anna Mae, never wrote letters. But one day a letter came to Austin. Her son, Jerry, had driven her to D.C. to see Dennis's name on the Vietnam memorial. I'd told her that I'd been there. She wrote, "I made it." She included a shading of his name.
I came home from NTSU one weekend and my mother said, "Dennis has been killed. The marines came to his house." I stood in my room and didn't move for a while. Then I went over there. It was awful. There was this moment. I was there and across the room his mom was on the phone. She hung up the phone, and looked up and we made eye contact, and she burst into tears. I said, "I'm so sorry," and we hugged. It was an awful time, but one of the awesome moments of my life. I miss him and his parents.