I'm not generally good about remembering specific dates, but I sometimes use books to pinpoint important events. The Night Strangler novelization, by Jeff Rice, was published in January 1973. I just checked my copy. I showed the book to Dennis on the second occasion we met.
The first time was memorable. I was, I believe, in eighth grade. Like most readers, I was a loner, and I walked around the corner from my street to another bus stop. I didn't want to talk to anyone in my immediate neighborhood.
It was cold and rainy. I didn't have an umbrella, so I was pretty miserable. I also had a cast on my left wrist from a bicycle wreck. I had a great idea: I'd take off my hood and allow myself to get really soaked. That way I could stumble back home and talk my mother into a day off from school. I even dropped my books into a puddle for good measure.
Right then the bus pulled up. I heard a voice calling out, "I'll help!" Some guy grabbed my books and ran onto the bus. "You asshole!", I thought, as I strode onboard.
Enter Dennis McCaskill.
The next day I got on the bus and sat next to him. He asked about the book I was carrying, and we started talking about The Night Stalker and its sequel.
On the surface we had little in common. Dennis liked football. The Redskins were his team. I liked books and monster movies. He liked that stuff too, but to a lesser degree than me. Dennis and I were both angry about various things in our lives. Neither of us wanted to spend much time at our homes. Especially when our father figures were there.
Dennis and I started hanging out after school. We would get together and walk. And walk. We walked all over. We talked about comics, movies, girls. And we started making jokes about people we didn't like. Long elaborate stories, ever more preposterous. We employed different voices and added imaginary characters. This went on for years and years. Decades.
We were both misfits. We wanted to be popular, but it wasn't in the cards for either of us.
You could say we were best friends from the very beginning. These things sometimes just happen, and it's a lot easier when you are young. Adults tend to overthink and also have too many ingrained prejudices. More reasons not to get along than to become close.
We both had a lot of interests, but movies were our real shared passion. Dennis had HBO at a time when few others did. When we had his house to ourselves, we watched a lot of movies. Annie Hall played a lot, and I must have seen it ten times.
We both liked horror. Both Race with the Devil and The Sentinel scared the hell out of us.
Dennis was a little older than me, and he was gifted a rattletrap station wagon from his family. We were off and running. We partied, raised some hell, indulged in a lot of mischief, but our favorite pastime was movies.
A life-changing event, for me at least, was John Carpenter's Halloween. I knew I was watching a masterpiece that would become a lasting classic.
Dennis and I become rabid slasher fans. He managed to get a book of free movie passes, and I bet we saw Friday the 13th five or six times on its opening run. We went to as many of the original slasher movies as possible. You name it: My Bloody Valentine, Happy Birthday to Me, Hell Night, Prom Night, and of course the Friday and Halloween sequels. The world howled in outrage over the Shape-less Halloween 3: Season of the Witch, but we both loved the film.
The drive-in was our favorite place to see them. We caught the last gasp of the '70s exploitation era and had glorious times watching Ulli Lommel's The Boogeyman, The Beast Within, The Gates of Hell, Zombie, Motel Hell, The Boogens, Vampyres, Nurse Sherri and so many others.
The drive-ins ran older movies as the second features, so we got to see many horror and slasher movies repeatedly. This was before VHS became commonplace, and each time we had a chance to see one was an event.
One time in the midst of the slasher revolution, a local drive-in showed Halloween and Friday the 13th. We had seen both numerous times, but what a great gift it was to have them both together again.
What a golden time. What a time to be a fan of horror. What a time to have a friend who shared my love of it all.
Dennis and I would arrive at the drive-in as soon as the gates opened, and we would throw Frisbee and surreptitiously drink beer while waiting for the show to begin.
A lot of beer. We were heavy partiers. Dennis liked weed more than alcohol, and I mostly preferred to drink over getting high, but we did plenty of both.
We were in heaven. A case of beer in the trunk, a sack of buds in the pocket, money for burgers and egg rolls, and a double feature under the night sky.
I was the horror freak. Dennis loved it too, but his favorites were action pictures. Chuck Norris, Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood, Arnold Schwartznegger. We saw 'em all.
Not just horror and action. We loved raunchy comedy, T&A, SNL alumni comedy, Brat Pack movies, Spielberg fantasies. There was always something out there for us to get excited about.
We had so many favorites. Up the Academy, Galaxy of Terror, Jake Speed, Up in Smoke, Angel, Vice Squad, Hardbodies, The Evil Dead. Countless great times at the movies.
Things changed as we grew into our mid-twenties. VHS rose up, and along with it the drive-ins fell. Dennis and I didn't miss a step. We bought VCRs and went into high movie gear. We rented movies all the time, and of course we had to dupe nearly every one of them. For our permanent collections, you know. Of course all those tapes are polluting the earth in some landfill now.
Great nights with videotape movie marathons. Loads and loads of beer, endless bags of pot, and often a house full of friends watching outrageous things on the TV screen. It wasn't the drive-in, but still great memories to be cherished.
I would like to say I loved every minute of my lifelong friendship with Dennis, but that would be a lie.
Like in Superbad, our friendship began to hold us back from having real lives. We couldn't have mature relationships while we were still partying so hard, and still hanging out so much.
It was no longer innocent youthful enthusiasm and experimenting. Hard partying invariably brings on hard thoughts and actions. We grew resentful of each other, and probably resentful of our own selves. Bitterness began to creep in, and it turned really nasty. Terrible things were said, both behind each other's backs and to each other's faces. Dennis and I acted like we hated each other.
Who was worse? It doesn't matter. We both behaved in near-unforgivable ways. By the time we reached our early thirties, we went our separate ways.
Dennis and I saw each other here and there. It was usually pleasant. Then we started to get together again. Our passion for movies remained solid. By the late '90s we were hanging out a lot. This lasted for a few years.
Unfortunately we still both indulged in our vices. I was still drinking way too much. Dennis was constantly stoned out of his mind.
Dennis started to watch the news more. He became rapidly conservative. He was angry a lot, ranting, raving, hating.
Then two things happened at almost the same time. I met and married a woman, and Dennis's partner suffered a calamitous accident with carbon monoxide. I stayed home with my new family and entered the world of online horror fiction message boards. He became a full-time caregiver.
A decade raced by. My marriage collapsed. I struggled with it, and I can't even recall how it started, but Dennis and I began to hang out again. This was in the twenty-teens.
This time there was no alcohol, no marijuana. I always had to go to his house, as he had to stay with his partner. She was physically and mentally handicapped by that point.
Dennis began having serious health problems of his own. Kidney damage almost killed him more than once.
I would come over, usually bringing some food, and we would make jokes like the old days. We would watch at least one movie. Most of the movies I reviewed in He Who Types Between the Rows 2 were seen up in his bedroom. Good times again.
However, there were challenges.
Dennis's political obsession went from far right to outright lunacy. The rise of Trump brought on insane thinking from so many people. Dennis even become a devotee of QAnon. He always talked about Q and how every prediction they made came to pass. As far as I could see, none of them did.
Every time I'd see Dennis, he would say "The Left is over! The arrests are coming this week!". Paranoid ramblings about a shadowy "cabal" that ran a Satan-worshipping sect of cannibal pedophiles. He said Spielberg ate babies. Hollywood was a huge ring of child-raping Socialists hellbent on overthrowing America.
Dennis was especially incensed during Covid. He was sure the vaccinations were an attempt to mass murder the majority of the population. He repeatedly asked me if I was going to get the "death jab". I always said no.
Of course I was vaccinated. I didn't want to hear any crap about it. Dennis knew I didn't want to hear his political screeds. I'd nod my head, just as I do whenever anyone gives me their uninvited opinions. I never argue. What's the point?
Dennis would get out a little bit of his outrage of the week, then we'd settle in to a movie.
Many, probably most people would hate him and renounce the friendship. Part of me wanted to, but I try to feel compassion.
Dennis certainly wasn't all bad. He gave up every bit of his social life for twenty years to care for his girlfriend. He gave her better treatment than money could buy. He did his best to remain patient when she would spit food back at him as he tried to feed her. She was mentally unbalanced and would hurl obscenities at him. She had good times too, but the bad times were really, really bad. Dennis kept her clean and fed as best he could. He made her laugh.
My wife Clara certainly has no love for Trump or his cultish followers, but she respected what Dennis was doing for his partner, and would prepare food to bring when when I visited.
Dennis had several near death experiences. He was on various medications and daily dialysis. He was housebound for two decades with an unstable individual. How much did that affect his thinking?
I try to condemn the statements people make, but not the individuals. Often it's impossible, but most people have good and bad elements. Dennis was always ready and willing to help anyone. No pay was asked or expected.
We all have our illusions. Some are more extreme than others.
In 2019 I took Dennis on a trip. He hired a nurse so he could get away for a night. His health was very poor at that point, and I was afraid something would go wrong.
I felt it was The Last Drive-In. I drove Dennis to Henderson, NC for an all-night horror marathon. It was Tremors, The Frighteners, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, An American Werewolf in London, and Shawn of the Dead.
No beer this time. Dennis got a large cappuccino from the snack bar, and I drank my beloved Irish Breakfast Tea. Cappuccino at the drive-in. Times sure have changed.
I made it through three movies, and then I fell asleep in the front seat of my car. We had a tent, but didn't use it. Dennis sat in a lawn chair all night and watched all the features. Even when it began to rain around 4:00 AM.
I woke up and Dennis already had the tent packed up, He stayed awake the whole time.
He talked about the drive-in for weeks after. He said it was one of the best times of his life. He repeatedly asked when we were going back. I was pretty sure it would never happen.
His health grew even worse. By late 2022 and into 2023, Dennis was in and out of the hospital a lot. I visited a couple of times and he looked terrible.
I visited Dennis on March 4th. He looked better and said his numbers were up. He had been riding a bicycle and talked about going back to work. He had lost his house, his partner was in a care facility, and he was living with his sister.
We watched Last Flag Flying, an appropriate movie for the occasion. He loved it, just as I knew he would.
I'm so busy. I wanted to visit Dennis again, but I have been getting ready for another book sale and spending time with my wife. The last message I received from him was "It was a good movie".
On Wednesday, March 22, 2023, I received a message from Dennis's brother. He died that day around three o'clock. After a brief spurt of health, his symptoms came rushing back.
Forty-nine years. Who has friends for so long? Not many people these days. To many, friends have become as disposable as cars and furniture. Dennis and I surely had our ups and downs. Very good times and very bad ones. He was far from perfect, and so am I. He was my best friend.
I think back to the days when we would meet after school. In my mind it's always Fall. Windy and cool, and we are laughing as we walk down Dora Drive. We duck into the woods where we spent a lot of time. We called it, of course, Denmark.
Times before politics wrung the humanity out of so many people. Before addictions and soul-crunching labors to earn our livings. Before anger and resentment. Before we found ways to mess things up.
Dennis was a staunch believer in the afterlife. I was always the cynic. He felt that we get the afterlife we deserve. Dennis gave a lot. More than many would or could give.
I hope he's in a drive-in theater. He's waiting for me, or maybe I'm already there and don't know it yet. The features never end. Action, horror, comedy, laughs and cheers for eternity.
Written by Mark Sieber
The first time was memorable. I was, I believe, in eighth grade. Like most readers, I was a loner, and I walked around the corner from my street to another bus stop. I didn't want to talk to anyone in my immediate neighborhood.
It was cold and rainy. I didn't have an umbrella, so I was pretty miserable. I also had a cast on my left wrist from a bicycle wreck. I had a great idea: I'd take off my hood and allow myself to get really soaked. That way I could stumble back home and talk my mother into a day off from school. I even dropped my books into a puddle for good measure.
Right then the bus pulled up. I heard a voice calling out, "I'll help!" Some guy grabbed my books and ran onto the bus. "You asshole!", I thought, as I strode onboard.
Enter Dennis McCaskill.
The next day I got on the bus and sat next to him. He asked about the book I was carrying, and we started talking about The Night Stalker and its sequel.
On the surface we had little in common. Dennis liked football. The Redskins were his team. I liked books and monster movies. He liked that stuff too, but to a lesser degree than me. Dennis and I were both angry about various things in our lives. Neither of us wanted to spend much time at our homes. Especially when our father figures were there.
Dennis and I started hanging out after school. We would get together and walk. And walk. We walked all over. We talked about comics, movies, girls. And we started making jokes about people we didn't like. Long elaborate stories, ever more preposterous. We employed different voices and added imaginary characters. This went on for years and years. Decades.
We were both misfits. We wanted to be popular, but it wasn't in the cards for either of us.
You could say we were best friends from the very beginning. These things sometimes just happen, and it's a lot easier when you are young. Adults tend to overthink and also have too many ingrained prejudices. More reasons not to get along than to become close.
We both had a lot of interests, but movies were our real shared passion. Dennis had HBO at a time when few others did. When we had his house to ourselves, we watched a lot of movies. Annie Hall played a lot, and I must have seen it ten times.
We both liked horror. Both Race with the Devil and The Sentinel scared the hell out of us.
Dennis was a little older than me, and he was gifted a rattletrap station wagon from his family. We were off and running. We partied, raised some hell, indulged in a lot of mischief, but our favorite pastime was movies.
A life-changing event, for me at least, was John Carpenter's Halloween. I knew I was watching a masterpiece that would become a lasting classic.
Dennis and I become rabid slasher fans. He managed to get a book of free movie passes, and I bet we saw Friday the 13th five or six times on its opening run. We went to as many of the original slasher movies as possible. You name it: My Bloody Valentine, Happy Birthday to Me, Hell Night, Prom Night, and of course the Friday and Halloween sequels. The world howled in outrage over the Shape-less Halloween 3: Season of the Witch, but we both loved the film.
The drive-in was our favorite place to see them. We caught the last gasp of the '70s exploitation era and had glorious times watching Ulli Lommel's The Boogeyman, The Beast Within, The Gates of Hell, Zombie, Motel Hell, The Boogens, Vampyres, Nurse Sherri and so many others.
The drive-ins ran older movies as the second features, so we got to see many horror and slasher movies repeatedly. This was before VHS became commonplace, and each time we had a chance to see one was an event.
One time in the midst of the slasher revolution, a local drive-in showed Halloween and Friday the 13th. We had seen both numerous times, but what a great gift it was to have them both together again.
What a golden time. What a time to be a fan of horror. What a time to have a friend who shared my love of it all.
Dennis and I would arrive at the drive-in as soon as the gates opened, and we would throw Frisbee and surreptitiously drink beer while waiting for the show to begin.
A lot of beer. We were heavy partiers. Dennis liked weed more than alcohol, and I mostly preferred to drink over getting high, but we did plenty of both.
We were in heaven. A case of beer in the trunk, a sack of buds in the pocket, money for burgers and egg rolls, and a double feature under the night sky.
I was the horror freak. Dennis loved it too, but his favorites were action pictures. Chuck Norris, Charles Bronson, Clint Eastwood, Arnold Schwartznegger. We saw 'em all.
Not just horror and action. We loved raunchy comedy, T&A, SNL alumni comedy, Brat Pack movies, Spielberg fantasies. There was always something out there for us to get excited about.
We had so many favorites. Up the Academy, Galaxy of Terror, Jake Speed, Up in Smoke, Angel, Vice Squad, Hardbodies, The Evil Dead. Countless great times at the movies.
Things changed as we grew into our mid-twenties. VHS rose up, and along with it the drive-ins fell. Dennis and I didn't miss a step. We bought VCRs and went into high movie gear. We rented movies all the time, and of course we had to dupe nearly every one of them. For our permanent collections, you know. Of course all those tapes are polluting the earth in some landfill now.
Great nights with videotape movie marathons. Loads and loads of beer, endless bags of pot, and often a house full of friends watching outrageous things on the TV screen. It wasn't the drive-in, but still great memories to be cherished.
I would like to say I loved every minute of my lifelong friendship with Dennis, but that would be a lie.
Like in Superbad, our friendship began to hold us back from having real lives. We couldn't have mature relationships while we were still partying so hard, and still hanging out so much.
It was no longer innocent youthful enthusiasm and experimenting. Hard partying invariably brings on hard thoughts and actions. We grew resentful of each other, and probably resentful of our own selves. Bitterness began to creep in, and it turned really nasty. Terrible things were said, both behind each other's backs and to each other's faces. Dennis and I acted like we hated each other.
Who was worse? It doesn't matter. We both behaved in near-unforgivable ways. By the time we reached our early thirties, we went our separate ways.
Dennis and I saw each other here and there. It was usually pleasant. Then we started to get together again. Our passion for movies remained solid. By the late '90s we were hanging out a lot. This lasted for a few years.
Unfortunately we still both indulged in our vices. I was still drinking way too much. Dennis was constantly stoned out of his mind.
Dennis started to watch the news more. He became rapidly conservative. He was angry a lot, ranting, raving, hating.
Then two things happened at almost the same time. I met and married a woman, and Dennis's partner suffered a calamitous accident with carbon monoxide. I stayed home with my new family and entered the world of online horror fiction message boards. He became a full-time caregiver.
A decade raced by. My marriage collapsed. I struggled with it, and I can't even recall how it started, but Dennis and I began to hang out again. This was in the twenty-teens.
This time there was no alcohol, no marijuana. I always had to go to his house, as he had to stay with his partner. She was physically and mentally handicapped by that point.
Dennis began having serious health problems of his own. Kidney damage almost killed him more than once.
I would come over, usually bringing some food, and we would make jokes like the old days. We would watch at least one movie. Most of the movies I reviewed in He Who Types Between the Rows 2 were seen up in his bedroom. Good times again.
However, there were challenges.
Dennis's political obsession went from far right to outright lunacy. The rise of Trump brought on insane thinking from so many people. Dennis even become a devotee of QAnon. He always talked about Q and how every prediction they made came to pass. As far as I could see, none of them did.
Every time I'd see Dennis, he would say "The Left is over! The arrests are coming this week!". Paranoid ramblings about a shadowy "cabal" that ran a Satan-worshipping sect of cannibal pedophiles. He said Spielberg ate babies. Hollywood was a huge ring of child-raping Socialists hellbent on overthrowing America.
Dennis was especially incensed during Covid. He was sure the vaccinations were an attempt to mass murder the majority of the population. He repeatedly asked me if I was going to get the "death jab". I always said no.
Of course I was vaccinated. I didn't want to hear any crap about it. Dennis knew I didn't want to hear his political screeds. I'd nod my head, just as I do whenever anyone gives me their uninvited opinions. I never argue. What's the point?
Dennis would get out a little bit of his outrage of the week, then we'd settle in to a movie.
Many, probably most people would hate him and renounce the friendship. Part of me wanted to, but I try to feel compassion.
Dennis certainly wasn't all bad. He gave up every bit of his social life for twenty years to care for his girlfriend. He gave her better treatment than money could buy. He did his best to remain patient when she would spit food back at him as he tried to feed her. She was mentally unbalanced and would hurl obscenities at him. She had good times too, but the bad times were really, really bad. Dennis kept her clean and fed as best he could. He made her laugh.
My wife Clara certainly has no love for Trump or his cultish followers, but she respected what Dennis was doing for his partner, and would prepare food to bring when when I visited.
Dennis had several near death experiences. He was on various medications and daily dialysis. He was housebound for two decades with an unstable individual. How much did that affect his thinking?
I try to condemn the statements people make, but not the individuals. Often it's impossible, but most people have good and bad elements. Dennis was always ready and willing to help anyone. No pay was asked or expected.
We all have our illusions. Some are more extreme than others.
In 2019 I took Dennis on a trip. He hired a nurse so he could get away for a night. His health was very poor at that point, and I was afraid something would go wrong.
I felt it was The Last Drive-In. I drove Dennis to Henderson, NC for an all-night horror marathon. It was Tremors, The Frighteners, Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein, An American Werewolf in London, and Shawn of the Dead.
No beer this time. Dennis got a large cappuccino from the snack bar, and I drank my beloved Irish Breakfast Tea. Cappuccino at the drive-in. Times sure have changed.
I made it through three movies, and then I fell asleep in the front seat of my car. We had a tent, but didn't use it. Dennis sat in a lawn chair all night and watched all the features. Even when it began to rain around 4:00 AM.
I woke up and Dennis already had the tent packed up, He stayed awake the whole time.
He talked about the drive-in for weeks after. He said it was one of the best times of his life. He repeatedly asked when we were going back. I was pretty sure it would never happen.
His health grew even worse. By late 2022 and into 2023, Dennis was in and out of the hospital a lot. I visited a couple of times and he looked terrible.
I visited Dennis on March 4th. He looked better and said his numbers were up. He had been riding a bicycle and talked about going back to work. He had lost his house, his partner was in a care facility, and he was living with his sister.
We watched Last Flag Flying, an appropriate movie for the occasion. He loved it, just as I knew he would.
I'm so busy. I wanted to visit Dennis again, but I have been getting ready for another book sale and spending time with my wife. The last message I received from him was "It was a good movie".
On Wednesday, March 22, 2023, I received a message from Dennis's brother. He died that day around three o'clock. After a brief spurt of health, his symptoms came rushing back.
Forty-nine years. Who has friends for so long? Not many people these days. To many, friends have become as disposable as cars and furniture. Dennis and I surely had our ups and downs. Very good times and very bad ones. He was far from perfect, and so am I. He was my best friend.
I think back to the days when we would meet after school. In my mind it's always Fall. Windy and cool, and we are laughing as we walk down Dora Drive. We duck into the woods where we spent a lot of time. We called it, of course, Denmark.
Times before politics wrung the humanity out of so many people. Before addictions and soul-crunching labors to earn our livings. Before anger and resentment. Before we found ways to mess things up.
Dennis was a staunch believer in the afterlife. I was always the cynic. He felt that we get the afterlife we deserve. Dennis gave a lot. More than many would or could give.
I hope he's in a drive-in theater. He's waiting for me, or maybe I'm already there and don't know it yet. The features never end. Action, horror, comedy, laughs and cheers for eternity.
Written by Mark Sieber
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