Dennie Austin, John Waters, and Alberto Garcia a year ago, at Marathon’s Fiesta de la Noche Buena, in Dennie’s newly-created, grandly-opened shop (and home), AUSTINtaTIOUS. (A rare photo of Dennie in which Tammy is not pictured.) (Marlys Hersey)

by Marlys Hersey

I shouldn’t be surprised that my friend Dennie died – after all, he was 85 years old. But when someone lives to that age and is as strong, and lucid, and energetic as Dennie, it’s hard to believe that anything can get them – that they, too, will ever slip off this mortal coil.

I met Dennie through this newspaper. I did a story on him: his delight in returning to the Big Bend after an unpleasant stay in Colorado, his jewelery making, his rockhounding.... Within an hour of meeting, we were friends.

His dog, Tammy, was there for the whole interview. We were friends, too.

He told me the story of his sudden and dramatic recovery from cancer 8 years prior. We both nearly burst into tears – from the joy that he survived; his was so effusive I was awash in it.

The summer I lived in Marathon, we sometimes dined together . He’d stop by my house with Tammy and we’d drink a lot of strong coffee, which he loved. Of course. When I took a vacation, Dennie took care of a new stray cat for me, leaving food  for her every day for a week, even when she wouldn’t come around for him.

When he gutted the store in downtown Marathon and made it into his new shop and home, I was incredulous. His remodel plans, about which he always talked very excitedly, were overwhelming. He worked constantly, and with such focus. The finished product was a masterpiece. Although Dennie would never say it was finished.

I loved listening to Dennie’s stories – his voice, his facial expressions, his gestures. I love how so many of them involved the world smiling on him, a touch of Obi Wan Knobi energy he had: “And then he said ‘Well, Mr. Austin, I guess we’’ll just have to make restitution to you for this.” Always the other party in the story called him “Mr. Austin.”

One day, Dennie and my now-husband John and I had lunch together at Johnny B’s, one of the outside tables. John gave me a gift, a novel that a friend recommended to him for me. I was stumped; why a gift? No particular occasion at hand.... I was asking questions, trying to discern the motivation.

“God, woman, are you dense?!” Dennie belted out. Every time I see that book, I remember him saying that, and I laugh. Now it’s bittersweet.

Yes, Dennie, I guess I am dense. Otherwise I would’ve remembered that you, too, would die someday.

Read our June 2004 feature story on Dennie Austin, "Dennie Austin Has Arrived..."