When Thomas Richard Dillard was born on 9 August 1956, in New York, United States, his father, William Wooldridge Dillard II, was 36 and his mother, Martha Sue “Sue” Stubbs, was 34. He died on 13 August 1986, in Dallas, Dallas, Texas, United States, at the age of 30, and was buried in Sparkman Hillcrest Memorial Park, Dallas, Dallas, Texas, United States.
The last time we spoke you asked me to write down some of my memories of Tom, I apologize for the lengthy delay.
I think of Tom, often for several reasons, Tom was to become one of my best friends when my family moved to Normandy in the summer of 1968. We went to school together, played sports together, we were in Boy Scouts together and we just hung out together as boys do.
Tom and I meet at the bus stop on the corner of Douglas and Normandy waiting for the bus to take us to Highland Park Junior High. As most kids do, we were standing on our own corners. Kris Walker (my downstairs neighbor) and I were on one corner and Tom was on the other. Kris introduced us, Tom had been at Mondamin, during the summer and I didn’t get a chance to meet him before school started. So, from Kris Walkers’ simple introduction a life long friendship was formed and memories were to be made.
For all of 7th and 8th grade and the majority of 9thgrade, until we moved, Tom and I were buddies. It was a good time in our lives 7th and 8th grades were probably the last grades where innocence, curiosity, sports, school, family, scouts, girls and the 1960’s were all in balance. Like most kids I didn’t realize how good I had it until I got older.
Tom and I did a lot of things together. We were on the football team, notice I said we were on the team as apposed to playing football. I don’t recall either one of us being very good, size and speed or (lack there of) was a major contributor to our lack of playing time. But we both like football and continued to participate for many years to come. We both enjoyed Boy Scouts and were very active for most of our junior and senior high years. Tom and I were in the same troop and patrol. We were members of Troop 81 at the Highland Park Methodist Church at Hillcrest and Mockingbird and we were in the “Confederate” patrol together. Ed Mercer’s, mother made us needle point flags as our patrol emblems, I still have mine. We also went to numerous varsity football games together, hung out a lot and did tons of kid stuff. But what we did more than anything else was ride our bikes together…
Tom and I rode everywhere imaginable, over to Blackburn’s off of Travis for ice cream, to the Village for movies, school, along Turtle Creek exploring and just all over the place. One time we even talked of riding our bikes to Arkansas to visit Tom’s older sister (my dad even gave me permission to go), thank goodness we never got past the planning stages on this adventure. This is what I want to tell you about. One of my strongest and fondest memories during this period in my life is about Tom, a bike and Christmas.
Both Tom and I had a couple of bikes that had seen better days, nothing was wrong with them other than they were a little worn, the tires were smooth and they were not the new rage “Ten Speed Race Bikes”. So Tom and I started our campaigns early to obtain the latest and greatest in all of “Bikedom” the coveted Schwinn Ten Speed Race Bike. Each day after school and football practice Tom and I would talk about where we would go, what we would do and most of all what new adventures we would have on our new Ten Speeds. We lobbied hard and often. For me I never missed a chance to bring up bikes at the dinner table or after running errands for my grandmother to Safeway, in the Village (about half a mile up hill each way) or drop some comment about how a guy in high school can’t be seen on a boy’s bicycle. As my birthday grew near in late November, I even brought out the big guns telling my dad, “If you want to combine my birthday and Christmas gift this year it’s ok with me.” For some reason I couldn’t tell you if I even had a birthday that year, everything was ridding on Christmas. Well Christmas break came and Tom and I continued to ride our “boys” bikes knowing full well that in a few days we would obtain the ultimate in modern transportation for young men in the new decade of the 1970’s Schwinn “Ten Speed Race Bikes”.
Tom and I decided that on Christmas day we would do our family duties and meet up as soon as we could break away. Christmas arrived and we had several family friends over for the festivities. Granny cooked, as always, and the apartment was filled with tantalizing aromas. I could barely contain myself; dad wouldn’t let anyone into the living room until the adults had coffee. Well the big moment arrived, as we filed into the living room my eyes darted all around the room looking for a new Schwinn “Ten Speed Race Bike”. It was kind of funny my eyes kept scanning over a bike that looked familiar but not what I was expecting. Eventually it dawned on me NO race bike. My eyes came back to the familiar bike that was some how different. After further inspection it came to me like a bolt, that was my old bike with new seat, tires and handgrips. I was very disappointed but kept it to myself. As the family finished opening our gifts the phone rang, dad answered and said, “sure he’ll meet you out front in a minute.” Dad said it was Tom and he was coming over to hang out.
It had been raining earlier that morning and there was still a little mist in the air, which to me made it feel all the more like Christmas. I took my bike downstairs about the same time as Tom was riding over on his new Ten Speed. We didn’t say much, just got on our bikes and started riding down Normandy toward Douglas. We rode about two houses down when Tom said he wanted to go home for a minute. So, we turned around and peddled back to his house. I waited out front for a minute staring at the ground until I saw Tom coming down the driveway on his old bike; he said he didn’t want to get his other one dirty. We spent the rest of our Christmas break riding around on our old bikes, having fun and looking for new adventures.
In the spring of 1971 we move from Normandy. Tom and I remained friends but didn’t see each other as often outside of classes. We would run into each other at parties and during occasional breaks from college but in the early 1980’s we lost touch with each other. We spoke briefly during our 10-year reunion in 1984 at the Dallas Country Club; this would be the last time I got to see Tom. During our 20th reunion Tom’s friends spoke of the magic act he performed during school talent shows and his engaging smile. It was after our 20th reunion that I called you.
I never told anyone about the way I felt that Christmas or how Tom’s simple gesture helped me. A couple of years ago I started teaching 11th and 12th grade Sunday school at Saint Michael’s. Each Christmas we ask our class to share Christmas memories and I share my Christmas of 1970, when I retell my story about a Christmas bike I never got. They want to know about Tom and if we are still friends. I tell them about Tom’s health, his passing and yes we are still friends.
I hope this letter finds you and yours in good health and spirits as the holiday season rolls around. In a few weeks I will be telling my Sunday school class about Tom, a bike and Christmas
I met Tom when I was in 5th grade at Bradfield. We became close friends and even attended summer camp together in North Carolina. Later we reconnected when he developed brain cancer in college.
Tom received experimental radiation treatments and appeared to be cured. So he got engaged to a long-time family friend, Diana, and Jam Majors and I attended his wedding in Arkansas. Tom and Diana purchased a home in the Lakewood area, while Tom worked with his father in the real estate business. Life was good and Tom and Diana had great plans for the future. Then his brain cancer returned. Although Tom knew he had terminal cancer, he did not dwell on it and continued to enjoy the time he had.
I was pleased to have Tom as a groomsman in my wedding in 1983. My mother and I had organized a tame bachelor party at a local Greek restaurant with a belly dancer. After the dinner, Tom suprised me when a limo showed up with two ladies from a local strip club. I insisted that Tom ride in the limo with me on the way to the club. Tom took many photos and displayed them at my rehearsal dinner! (Luckily my wife has a good sense of humor!)
David Eisenlohr
When Thomas Richard Dillard was born on 9 August 1956, in New York, United States, his father, William Wooldridge Dillard II, was 36 and his mother, Martha Sue “Sue” Stubbs, was 34. He died on 13 August 1986, in Dallas, Dallas, Texas, United States, at the age of 30, and was buried in Sparkman Hillcrest Memorial Park, Dallas, Dallas, Texas, United States.
Curtis “Chad”wick Downs
A letter I sent to Tom's mother
October 31, 2001
Dear Mrs. Dillard
The last time we spoke you asked me to write down some of my memories of Tom, I apologize for the lengthy delay.
I think of Tom, often for several reasons, Tom was to become one of my best friends when my family moved to Normandy in the summer of 1968. We went to school together, played sports together, we were in Boy Scouts together and we just hung out together as boys do.
Tom and I meet at the bus stop on the corner of Douglas and Normandy waiting for the bus to take us to Highland Park Junior High. As most kids do, we were standing on our own corners. Kris Walker (my downstairs neighbor) and I were on one corner and Tom was on the other. Kris introduced us, Tom had been at Mondamin, during the summer and I didn’t get a chance to meet him before school started. So, from Kris Walkers’ simple introduction a life long friendship was formed and memories were to be made.
For all of 7th and 8th grade and the majority of 9thgrade, until we moved, Tom and I were buddies. It was a good time in our lives 7th and 8th grades were probably the last grades where innocence, curiosity, sports, school, family, scouts, girls and the 1960’s were all in balance. Like most kids I didn’t realize how good I had it until I got older.
Tom and I did a lot of things together. We were on the football team, notice I said we were on the team as apposed to playing football. I don’t recall either one of us being very good, size and speed or (lack there of) was a major contributor to our lack of playing time. But we both like football and continued to participate for many years to come. We both enjoyed Boy Scouts and were very active for most of our junior and senior high years. Tom and I were in the same troop and patrol. We were members of Troop 81 at the Highland Park Methodist Church at Hillcrest and Mockingbird and we were in the “Confederate” patrol together. Ed Mercer’s, mother made us needle point flags as our patrol emblems, I still have mine. We also went to numerous varsity football games together, hung out a lot and did tons of kid stuff. But what we did more than anything else was ride our bikes together…
Tom and I rode everywhere imaginable, over to Blackburn’s off of Travis for ice cream, to the Village for movies, school, along Turtle Creek exploring and just all over the place. One time we even talked of riding our bikes to Arkansas to visit Tom’s older sister (my dad even gave me permission to go), thank goodness we never got past the planning stages on this adventure. This is what I want to tell you about. One of my strongest and fondest memories during this period in my life is about Tom, a bike and Christmas.
Both Tom and I had a couple of bikes that had seen better days, nothing was wrong with them other than they were a little worn, the tires were smooth and they were not the new rage “Ten Speed Race Bikes”. So Tom and I started our campaigns early to obtain the latest and greatest in all of “Bikedom” the coveted Schwinn Ten Speed Race Bike. Each day after school and football practice Tom and I would talk about where we would go, what we would do and most of all what new adventures we would have on our new Ten Speeds. We lobbied hard and often. For me I never missed a chance to bring up bikes at the dinner table or after running errands for my grandmother to Safeway, in the Village (about half a mile up hill each way) or drop some comment about how a guy in high school can’t be seen on a boy’s bicycle. As my birthday grew near in late November, I even brought out the big guns telling my dad, “If you want to combine my birthday and Christmas gift this year it’s ok with me.” For some reason I couldn’t tell you if I even had a birthday that year, everything was ridding on Christmas. Well Christmas break came and Tom and I continued to ride our “boys” bikes knowing full well that in a few days we would obtain the ultimate in modern transportation for young men in the new decade of the 1970’s Schwinn “Ten Speed Race Bikes”.
Tom and I decided that on Christmas day we would do our family duties and meet up as soon as we could break away. Christmas arrived and we had several family friends over for the festivities. Granny cooked, as always, and the apartment was filled with tantalizing aromas. I could barely contain myself; dad wouldn’t let anyone into the living room until the adults had coffee. Well the big moment arrived, as we filed into the living room my eyes darted all around the room looking for a new Schwinn “Ten Speed Race Bike”. It was kind of funny my eyes kept scanning over a bike that looked familiar but not what I was expecting. Eventually it dawned on me NO race bike. My eyes came back to the familiar bike that was some how different. After further inspection it came to me like a bolt, that was my old bike with new seat, tires and handgrips. I was very disappointed but kept it to myself. As the family finished opening our gifts the phone rang, dad answered and said, “sure he’ll meet you out front in a minute.” Dad said it was Tom and he was coming over to hang out.
It had been raining earlier that morning and there was still a little mist in the air, which to me made it feel all the more like Christmas. I took my bike downstairs about the same time as Tom was riding over on his new Ten Speed. We didn’t say much, just got on our bikes and started riding down Normandy toward Douglas. We rode about two houses down when Tom said he wanted to go home for a minute. So, we turned around and peddled back to his house. I waited out front for a minute staring at the ground until I saw Tom coming down the driveway on his old bike; he said he didn’t want to get his other one dirty. We spent the rest of our Christmas break riding around on our old bikes, having fun and looking for new adventures.
In the spring of 1971 we move from Normandy. Tom and I remained friends but didn’t see each other as often outside of classes. We would run into each other at parties and during occasional breaks from college but in the early 1980’s we lost touch with each other. We spoke briefly during our 10-year reunion in 1984 at the Dallas Country Club; this would be the last time I got to see Tom. During our 20th reunion Tom’s friends spoke of the magic act he performed during school talent shows and his engaging smile. It was after our 20th reunion that I called you.
I never told anyone about the way I felt that Christmas or how Tom’s simple gesture helped me. A couple of years ago I started teaching 11th and 12th grade Sunday school at Saint Michael’s. Each Christmas we ask our class to share Christmas memories and I share my Christmas of 1970, when I retell my story about a Christmas bike I never got. They want to know about Tom and if we are still friends. I tell them about Tom’s health, his passing and yes we are still friends.
I hope this letter finds you and yours in good health and spirits as the holiday season rolls around. In a few weeks I will be telling my Sunday school class about Tom, a bike and Christmas
Sincerely and with Great Memories,
Chad Downs
Harry Storey
I met Tom when I was in 5th grade at Bradfield. We became close friends and even attended summer camp together in North Carolina. Later we reconnected when he developed brain cancer in college.
Tom received experimental radiation treatments and appeared to be cured. So he got engaged to a long-time family friend, Diana, and Jam Majors and I attended his wedding in Arkansas. Tom and Diana purchased a home in the Lakewood area, while Tom worked with his father in the real estate business. Life was good and Tom and Diana had great plans for the future. Then his brain cancer returned. Although Tom knew he had terminal cancer, he did not dwell on it and continued to enjoy the time he had.
I was pleased to have Tom as a groomsman in my wedding in 1983. My mother and I had organized a tame bachelor party at a local Greek restaurant with a belly dancer. After the dinner, Tom suprised me when a limo showed up with two ladies from a local strip club. I insisted that Tom ride in the limo with me on the way to the club. Tom took many photos and displayed them at my rehearsal dinner! (Luckily my wife has a good sense of humor!)
Mike Armstrong
SadMike Armstrong
SadMike Armstrong
SadMike Armstrong
Sad