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Remembering J.D. Tippit |
Six, which are dedicated to or mention the name J.D. Tippit, are described here:
- Laurel Land Memorial Park's Court of Honor in Dallas, Texas
- Texas State Historical Marker in Red River County, Texas
- Texas State Historical Marker at Tenth & Patton in Oak Cliff, Dallas, Texas
- Dallas Police Memorial in Dallas, Texas
- Texas Peace Officers Memorial in Austin, Texas
- National Law Enforcement Officers Memorial in Washington, D.C.
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I Remember Tip The barber shop where people go, To get haircuts and world's participation, Where fish stories, hunting, and gambling tales, Grow and know no end to exaggeration! The barber, the speaker of the house, Knows everyone by name. His health, his wealth, political choice, His friends and kin who have any hint of fame. So on this late November day, As I sat and read and waited my turn. As the barber talked to the man he sheared, Part of his talk became my concern. He told him of reading a special book - With Malice was the title he said, About the policeman who was killed The same day the president was shot dead. The man - "Too young to remember?" He asked of me, I shook my head. Then through a lifetime my memory ran, Like a dream that appears at night in bed. One would rather not recall The grief so easy to remember, Yet in my mind I still relive The dark days of that one November. But long before in our younger years, Before was molded our friendship sound, We were just plain country folks In northeast Texas to till the ground. Tall and straight with eyes of blue, Broad of shoulder, slim of hip With dark, straight hair and a bashful grin, From then and always I called him Tip. Our likes were all so near the same, Our sports were mostly hunting and fishing. We rode the horses, saw western movies, And did our part of idle wishing. We worked the cotton, cut the wood, Raised the corn, and bailed the hay. Busy most all the year round When came night our time to play. How simple was our younger life. How little of life we really knew. Yet this was such a happy time. Our friendship, and we, always together, grew. There, in a tabernacle revival, Wooed by the Spirit of Christ and hymns That special night by a dim lantern light We knelt and gave our souls to Him. Then came the parting of our ways When the war changed our lifestyles. He went with the Airborne to Europe - I with the Army to the South Pacific Isles. Back home again another change - Marriage and a family began. Our priorities turned to family life. Our lives were never the same again. His dream was to be a farmer, To make his living working the land, But the droughts, the floods, and insects, Were more than he could stand. The circumstances, one by one - Seemed that fate had steered his course. For eleven years with dedication and pride He served the Dallas Police Force. The news so bad was brought to me At work by phone from my wife. She said, "Come home. I need you here - My brother J.D. has lost his life!" At home I found my house so full Of neighbors, friends, strangers, and kin Their comforting words I hardly heard, So numb was I with shock within. Our first visit to where he lay in state; He in his coffin seemed so unreal. The shock so great made me hesitate Like the grip of a horrible nightmare feel. Sentries stood at his head and foot. From them his life this disaster did rend. To them and the nation, there lay a hero, But to me, a loving lifetime friend. Pastor Tipps began to preach With eloquent, tender words of speech - Summing up the tragedy there, Trying all the different folks to reach. "We have here a servant of the city, A husband, a father, a member here, Struck down by the gun of the President's assassin At age thirty-nine, the summer of his years." The line that came by to review the remains There seemed never to be an end. policemen by the hundreds came Then curious onlookers, friends and kin. Then to the burial place of honor, With a guarded, long procession we came. The sermon, short - a fervent prayer. Then he alone of us many remained. For some this meant headline news, Some must bear the brunt of blame. For some meant wealth and others fame. For me only the memories remain. Many will come and many will go - Blue-eyed, broad shoulders, and slim of hip, But for me and many more I know There will never be another Tip. Yes, I remember young of years. I remember our vacation trip. Yes, I remember joys and tears. Fondly and sadly I remember Tip. Out of a fog, I heard my name called, Jarring me back from a deep meditating Through fifty-seven years in a few moments time - "The chair is empty and I am waiting." Robert J. Christopher September 21, 1999 |
Next: Laurel Land Memorial Park Burial Site
