Dennis Thompson lived for only 53 years, but for some 36 of those years he made my life fuller.  That may not be good grammar, but it is true.  In 1965, I believe, I was working in the central research laboratory of Varian Associates, a pioneering Silicon Valley company.  Of course that was when it was still only Santa Clara Valley, the prune capitol of the world.  The lab was working in the forefront of research in solid-state microwave devices.  We were working on a new idea called the Gunn effect in competition with many of the great laboratories of the world.  This was one of the hottest projects of that time.  One day Dan Dow, the head of the Gunn effect project, came to my office, and told me that there was a high school student in the lobby requesting a piece of gallium arsenide to make a Gunn effect device for his science fair project.  This was a high school kid who wanted to do research along with some of the big brains in physics, including our own Herb Kroemer who eventually would win the Nobel Prize.  That was the first time I saw that Dennis had what my Jewish friends call hutspaugh.  Dan said that he was thinking of offering Dennis a summer job.  He did and we got to know Dennis.  Dennis continued to work part time at Varian while he finished high school and attended San Jose State.  I eventually left Varian for a start-up, Photo Physics, with three of my coworkers.  A year or two later Dennis had left Varian for one of the three day a week 13 hour day jobs.  Having four days a week left he came to work with us assembling our circuit boards.  It was during this time that I really got to know Dennis and Rosemary, his new wife.  He would frequently go on service trips for the company to install or trouble shoot equipment at the customer's location.  On one occasion he had to go on the weekend that they were moving to a different house.  My colleagues and I offered to move his stuff while he was gone.  Then we found that Dennis was the head rat of the pack rats.  We had to take down his radio tower.  He was an amateur radioman.  We had to move his 400 pound automobile engine that he was saving for what car I will never know.  After we got Dennis in his new digs and our broken backs in bed, he came home with all his work done.

For the next couple of years Dennis reported directly to me, and we became close.  Eventually, he and Rosemary asked me to be the godfather for their daughter Dennise.  Ultimately, business dropped off, and Dennis returned to Varian where he spent the rest of carrier.  With the exception, of course, for a short period with Veeco working for a project that evolved from the SRI lab I was working in.  Dennis seemed to keep getting involved with failures that I was associated with.

Through the years our social interaction increased.  I remodeled my house in 1978, adding a peaked roof to what had been a flat roofed house.  One weekend Dennis and I installed all of the rafters and the sheeting by ourselves.  None of my other friends, sons, or other family members spent as much time on that project as Dennis.  He and I even managed to hoist a furnace into the attic one weekend.  Another time, Dennis and Rosemary painted my house on a weekend when I was out sailboat racing.  I was playing and he was doing my work.  We also went SCUBA diving, and he helped me set up an amateur radio station.  He still helped me with my technical work.  He repaired a piece of equipment at the SRI lab one weekend after I could find no one who understood it.  He took me to the Varian facility to use their super magnets to run one of my experiments on super conductivity.  If I had problems, personal or technical, all I had to do was mention it to Dennis and he was there.

In the early eighties we both ended up divorced.  Eventually, we were in new relationships, but our association continued Dennis and Noreen invited my second wife and me to most social functions that they had.  We spent a week in Matzalan Mexio with them.  We met in Galway Ireland for an evening of pub-crawling when we just happened to be in that lovely country at the same time.  Eventually, I divorced again and met my wife Sandy.  We decided to go cruising.  So Dennis helped me install the radio equipment on the boat.  Later, he and Noreen came down to San Diego to visit on the boat while we were there waiting for the right weather to go to Mexico.

From that time in 1993, I did not see Dennis often, as I would return to California every couple of years to visit family and friends.  We did write letters, and eventually email, to keep in contact.  In recent years he developed kidney disease, which was worse every time I visited.  About five years ago Dennis retired on permanent disability.  Once I was in town for a short period so I went with him and we visited while he was dialyzed.  For the last few years Noreen's daughter Jamie has taken care of Dennis.  She would give me reports when I called.  So I knew that he would not last long.  So finally, Jamie called to let me know that Dennis had died.

Now, what can I say?  This kid, just two years younger than my own son, walked into my life one day and it was never the same.  It seemed that whenever I needed something all I had to do is call Dennis and he would be there to work or play.  He was stubborn beyond belief.  I spent hours trying to get him to lighten up on his crew.  He was always at the head of the line to volunteer.  He worked on many company picnics and similar functions.  When people he met in his work visited Varian he would invite them to his house for dinner, and frequently include me.  He had broad interests.  He was involved with more organizations than I could count. He certainly was no couch potato.  He was very bright.  His college major was teaching, I never understood why.  Still he could design circuits or program as well as any engineer.  He just plain understood how things worked.  This made him valuable in our relationship as all my colleagues learned to give the problem to Dennis.

Life will go on without Dennis, but it won't be as full.  Those who knew him will understand when I say that I am sure that Dennis spent the first part of his eternity instructing St. Peter on how he could better run the Pearly Gates.  In great detail.