John Ryan Dennison

West Point, 2004

Be Thou At Peace

Posted by Erik Wright on November 29, 2006:

My first memories of Ryan are more than a little hazy as we met during Beast Barracks. He was in the same platoon as I was but two squads behind me in formation meant he was light years away. Given the culture shock of the environment that first summer, it was hardly conducive for Ryan and I to really get to know one another well. I was fortunate enough to be sent to F-1 with him at the start of the Academic year where I quickly grew to appreciate, respect, trust and even love Ryan as a roomate and a friend. There were three of us in a two man room. We edited each other's papers, helped study for each other's tests, and covered down on laundry and newspaper deliveries. Ryan and I stared at our computer screens nearly every week wondering out loud whether or not our grades would be good enough to get a "special" pass approved for each and every long weekend that year. We traveled those weekends sitting together, whether by the chartered bus from the Parents Club of VA/MD/DC or by one of our generous parents willing to make the long trip just to pick us up and drive us home. When I had knee surgery that first year and was reduced to shamefully walking around on crutches, Ryan was the one who for weeks insisted on carrying my dinner tray for me in the mess hall. Over the next four years I grew to know Ryan better than I've known any other guy friend. Ryan partied hard, he played hard, he studied hard, he fell for Haley hard. He epitomized cooperate and graduate in that he was a true team player in every sense of the phrase. He bent over backwards to friends and strangers alike in need. He refused to talk negatively about anyone. He was a high school wrestling and football star at a school where the football team went undefeated for years, yet you wouldn't know it unless you really pried him for the information. He loved his parents and appreciated them for the lessons, values, and opportunities they gave him growing up. He spoke about them and respected them for it in an unbridled way uncharacteristic of typical 18-22 year old men. The only things I ever heard Ryan brag about were his sister Colleen, a rising star at the Naval Academy, and his brother Christopher, who always seemed to be deep in the throes of applying for and getting accepted to colleges when Ryan and I talked about him. Ryan was good at everything. Yet he consistently downplayed his accomplishments and remained modest almost to the point of being self-effacing. He talked, but more importantly, he listened and he remembered. Ryan and I must've spent over a thousand hours in the mess hall with the Firehouse plebes (plus attachments) at optional dinners during our 4 year stint at school. We agonized daily over coming up with new, innovative, sometimes sporty, sometimes risque trivia to keep the upperclassmen at our table entertained plebe year. We spent Memorial Day weekends in Plymouth, Mass. We spent long car rides with that crazy Texan southbound on I-95 to MD and VA. We played countless games of Zoom-Schwarstch. We tailgated at Buffalo Soldier. We sat for hours in Grant Hall drinking bad coffee at the end of long, stressful weeks. We talked politics, religion, sports, women, ambitions, and fears. He cooked me a pasta lunch in the middle of a day's worth of Sapper school tryouts Cow year because he said I "could use the carbs." We flew to Madison, Wisconsin with Matt Schutte as our host to watch the Wisconsin/Ohio State football game over a long weekend only we never actually bought tickets and made it to the game. It didn't really matter. When Gary Avery came up missing in the midst of a house party that weekend, Ryan refused to let me go look for him alone, and he left the party with me to go walk the streets of Madison in hopes that we would find Gary in one piece. We eventually found Gary, later that night, innocently sitting on a staircase talking with a young lady. The first night Gary ever drank, the first night Gary got drunk, he met the first and only love of his life, Kayla, his future wife. When I was being stupid and stubborn regarding Lisa, Ryan was the one who insisted that we all drive down to UVA to visit her. That weekend trip was the beginning of a long and promising committment to Lisa that will last the rest of my life. Ryan celebrated my Dad's 50th birthday with our family and during the surprise party that ensued, he taught my Dad and his 'Courage and Drive 75' old grad friends a little something something about courage and drive, not to mention the task, conditions, standards for properly executing a keg stand. That same weekend, Ryan's personality and charisma left a lasting impression on my sister as she developed a crush on Ryan. To this day, despite knowing full well that he is more than happily married, she still asks how Ryan is doing. It absolutely tore Ryan to emotional shreds when he had to sacrifice his holiday leave at school for jump team competitions. Not because he didn't love jumping, the competition, or his teamates, but because he didn't want to choose to jump over spending time with his Mom, Dad, sister, and brother and their holiday plans. His family understood, I think, and they knew he had to and wanted to be loyal to his teamates and friends. Jumping was one of the many things he was passionate about. He was good at it. So much so that my parents wanted to make a special trip up to the one home football game that Ryan jumped into as a firstie. He loved his B-1 friends as well. To be honest, the Firehouse plebes, myself especially, were all a little jealous when B-1, the jump team, and even Haley, "borrowed" Ryan's time away from us. We can't blame them though. Ryan had that effect on people. Without him even knowing it, people competed for his attention; he was that fun to be around. I remember walking up the treacherous steps to Women's Basketball games in the winters. Ryan didn't bring me because he was interested in my conversation. I used to sit there and watch him respectfully and longingly stare at Miss Haley Edwards on the basketball court. He would do it for minutes on end without even knowing it and I never had the heart to bring him back to reality with my dull, monotonous chatter. From the beginning, we all hoped and prayed that Haley would be "the" one. It was amazing to see the effect she had on him. He always said that Haley inspired him to "be a better man for her," yet he was already the best man I've ever known. Haley and Ryan were married on the same day my sister got married. Had they coordinated to have both weddings in the same city, rest assured I would have made it to both of them. I called Ryan on the eve of his wedding day to leave my well wishes and an apologetic message reference my inability to make it to the wedding. When he answered the phone I was shocked. Ryan told me that he was spending some quiet, quality alone time with Haley, reflecting. I found it admirable, fitting, and altogether characteristic for Ryan and Haley to be able to set aside time for the two of them amidst the hustle and bustle of rehearsals, rehearsal dinners, and wedding planning. I have vivid memories of Ryan at Army/Navy games, branch night, post night, 21st birthday parties, the firstie club, Fireside, 500th night, 100th night, Ring Weekend, IOBC, Ranger School.... We spent 10 days in June/July of 2004 cruising the Mediterranean with our respective significant others and a dozen other close friends. Ryan said it was their honeymoon; however innapropriate it may seem, I was honored to share it with them. Whether friends called him Ryan, John, J.R., or Denny, Ryan was a joy to be around. He had a winning smile and an infectious personality. He never settled for mediocrity. I have pictures of his smile etched in my memory. Pictures of him cheesing it up in front of Alice in Wonderland statues in NYC, and dozens of him clowning around wherever we happened to be. When people can't seem to put a face to Ryan's name, I want to tell them (without sounding like his wife or his mother), 'you would remember his smile if you saw it one time.' I would love to be a fly on the wall around the guys in Ryan's platoon from the 82nd. I can only imagine what a superb, stoic, exceptional platoon leader he was to those men. I wonder if they look up to him with the same awe and reverence that myself and so many of his classmates do. So many times throughout college, additional schooling, and being deployed, I have asked myself, 'what would Ryan do?' I have no doubts that I will continue to ask myself, 'what would Ryan do?' in the years to come. 5 years ago, Ryan insisted that I read the book 'Five Years to Freedom' by Nick Rowe. It is a true story, an autobiography, about an SF Vietnam Vet who defied his captors for over 5 years before finally escaping. It has since become my favorite book and I have re-read it 4 times. 4 years ago, Ryan, Mark Reid, Brian Hanrahan and I visited Arlington National Cemetery together. We went to see, among other things, the site where Rocky Versace, an American hero and one of Nick Rowe's friends in that same book, was buried. We took pictures of Rocky's headstone and later on of the 4 of us in Arlington National, for posterity sake. Tomorrow, Ryan's wife, his parents, his friends, and his classmates will honor Ryan by laying him to rest beside the likes of Rocky Versace, JFK, and other great Americans who made the selfless, oftentimes untimely, ultimate sacrifice. On the eve of his funeral, any wordy, stream of consciousness attempt I make to pay tribute to Ryan and his life will fall far short of its mark. Flying on the plane en route to his funeral, I can't help but look at all the houses, cars and people below and feel sorry for them. I feel sorry for them because they didn't have the opportunity I had to know John Ryan Dennison. They will never know what they are missing. We will.... I had every intention that my unborn children, 15 years from now, would have the luxury and familiarity with which to call 'Uncle Denny' up should they ever have questions about how to properly pack a parachute, how to write a solid international relations paper, or how to treat others as they would like to be treated. I needed him around to do that because I fear that he can teach those life lessons far better than I may ever be able to. I am still learning from Ryan. 15 years from now, I had every intention that Ryan would still be teaching me a thing or two about life. 15 years from now, I will take my children to Arlington National Cemetery. We'll walk past the likes of JFK and Rocky Versace. We'll stop in front of where John Ryan Dennison lies, being careful not to stand on top of him, and I will stumble and stutter all over myself as I try to communicate to my kids who Ryan was, what he was about, what he stood for, what he died for... Somewhere in that talk I will remind them that life is short, try to make the absolute most of it, and always, always, always remember the family, friends, and loved ones who all contribute to make you the people you are.... It takes a village. Ryan was an integral part of that village for me. Collectively, we are all mourning for the loss of Ryan. We miss you. We're praying for Haley and your Family. -FHP

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