Henry Hansen Story
Hank's Story
Born on the 4th of July, 1927, to Ida and John Peter Hansen at Wilcox Memorial Hospital, Portland, Oregon (this is the same hospital that delivered Susan to us, June 2, 1960). Hank loved his birthday--always a party of some kind, and friends around to help celebrate! He was #12 of 14 children. His family lived on McKinley Road on a 12½ acre homestead, purchased shortly before Hank's birth. They had moved out there from 92nd and Woodstock, before that Montana.
John sold cord wood for a living and farmed. They raised potatoes and berries and kept domestic animals--cows, pigs, chickens, etc, using horses and mules to work the farm. Ida was never well in Hank's memory of her--she was bed-ridden all his young life, after the birth of her last child. She was cared for by her daughters--who also did the housework and child-care. She died at age 58 of bone cancer, while Hank was serving in the Army. He had turned 18 just as World War II ended, and had just completed his basic training in California--Camp Roberts I believe. He came home on an emergency leave to attend his mother's funeral and while he was home, his unit was sent to Japan. Upon his return, the Army included him in a new group on their way to Europe. He spent the next year and a half in Germany (the occupation forces). He was terribly sea-sick both going and coming home--an illness he never really grew out of. He considered that trip the worst experience anyone could possibly have. All his life he enjoyed good health, until the age of 58, when he was diagnosed Parkinsons disease. He had little patience for sickness, perhaps because of his mother's situation he simply couldn't face any more. As a family we couldn't expect any sympathy unless we were openly bleeding--he would say "don't talk about it and it will go away." He had a great heart-beat and low blood pressure and was told by every professional who ever took his blood pressure that he would live to be 100 years old and he believed that and so did I. He had great energy. Never ever complained about being tired--worked all day and moonlighted, doing brickwork evenings and weekends, at least until he had his home built and everything paid for and going well, then he began to 'play' as hard as he worked. His energy was hard to match--but he also had sleep habits that were pretty awesome. He could go to sleep anywhere, anytime and immediately. I used to tell him that he could sleep on the railroad tracks with the train coming. Because he could relax so well and so quickly he would often take 5 minute naps and be completely refreshed. The last few years, when his health failed him he slept many hours way during the day then couldn't sleep at night. Since you can hardly make visits or phone calls after 11 o'clock or so, this was very difficult for him. He was a "people" person if there ever was one! Couldn't handle being alone.
November 26, 1995
I've been side-tracked a few times already--but I'll try again! Want to go back to the notes I took while he was still here. He seemed to want me to know about the home he grew up in and I'll just repeat his words. "Our home was built by Dad and the boys (older) and had a dug basement, with no concrete walls nor foundation, 2 stories with one bedroom downstairs. On the second level there was a partition in the middle with 3 beds on each side. The siding was single construction (ship-lap) wood walls and no glass in the upper windows. In the winter the snow drifted in around the gunny sacks that were nailed over the opening. It had tar paper nailed to the outside. The roof was good because they made their own shingles. The bathroom was down a path. The house had electric lights which had to "...... It was here that we were interrupted and never got back. It was too hard for both of us, and too, we had continued company. His friends--and they were many--knew of his condition and began to drop in. We had continuous company--such dear, dear people who simply came to hug him and tell him of their love and in one way or another say good-bye. Paul Wideburg came several times and once brought his guitar and said he'd come to sing him some songs and it was wonderful! Such good friends he had!
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I want to spend a bit more time on Hank's growing years, this time from my perspective. His was less than a desirable childhood, by today's standards it would be considered way below the poverty level and abusive. His mother was an invalid and his father didn't seem to know how to raise boys. I knew him--a German from the old country and continually complaining about "America" and our education system which didn't meet his expectations. This was after World War II when I knew him, and neither I nor anyone else appreciated his defense of Hitler nor his enthusiasm for anything German. He spoke with an accent and many of his own family hated him. I will put this in because it is true and gives an accurate picture of the home Hank was raised in. He made his boys work, from the time they were little, working the mules and farming. He also hired them out to the neighbors then collected the money. The kind neighbors used to slip a little change to the boys because they felt sorry for them. As soon as they got to be 13 or so they left home. They had little schooling. At that time if anyone in the family got sick, measles, mumps, chicken pox etc., the home was quarantined and no one could go to school. With 14 children someone was always sick (no vaccinations in those days, except for smallpox). Then also they were kept out to work! So they were just pushed through 8 grades (at Pleasant Valley School, on Foster Road) and then they quit and simply left home. They were and are all hard workers and decent people who found homes on their own where they were able to save their own wages and begin their lives.
Hank was 15 when he left. At that time he was working in a foundry in Vancouver--his first 'real' job, which he had to lie to get. He was too young. He rode a bike several miles to catch a bus, then had to transfer several times to reach Vancouver. He lived with a good Italian family out on 82nd who had a truck farm and a market downtown. They raised lots of produce and sold it in their open market. Those businesses are gone now, but were very popular in the 40's and 50's. This family was really 2 families living together, a brother and a sister with many children. I was invited to dinner there once and it was an amazing experience. They were well organized and loving and kind and it worked somehow. Hank never forgot them and saw them occasionally--throughout his life. Bocci was their name. He stayed in one of their outbuildings and began to work a second job, the shipyards.
Eventually he quit the foundry and worked in two shipyards making lots of money. Or so it seemed at the time. He was 16 by then and had a car! While at home he had given his mother most of his $28 a week he made at the foundry. With the few dollars he kept out he bought a milk separator, fixed the mule harness which was his responsibility since it broke while he was working them. And then he left. He seldom spoke of his childhood--had no bitterness nor did he ever feel sorry for himself. He did express his feelings about the boy-scout program a couple ofttimes (which surprised me). He could not participate and had wanted to badly--and throughout his adult years made continual (if small) donations to the organization. He never blamed his parents for any deprivation. He simply put it all behind him and went on to make his own life with a positive and always cheerful outlook. No whining about his childhood--ever.
He was born missing 2 front teeth. The two in the front of his mouth were 'buck' teeth and were never seen by a dentist. When he was able to save enough money he had them cared for, about age 16 - 17. His sister Laura had wanted to take care of his teeth but for some reason couldn't (or didn't) and he never forgot that. He told me many times that she had wanted to do that for him. He had very little kindness from anyone. There were just too many kids and they were too poor, and much too much over-worked. They were lucky to have enough to eat--and that was provided by his sisters, from what they could produce themselves. We were all poor in those years. It was the 1930's and the country was in a deep depression.
A month has gone by (Christmas and all) and I've lost my initiative but will try to find it again. Have had time to think about the subject and was writing about (Hank's early years) and have decided to include the "ugliest" part--not to cause anymore pain--but to further describe the' climate' into which he grew up. This story was never told by him, though he admitted it was true. It came to my Dad from a neighbor. When Hank was small, his older brothers took so much abuse from their father that they rebelled and working together, tried to hang him. They were stopped by the neighbor--and turned into the authorities by their Dad and sent to "reform school." Hank was too young to know any details other than these. As far as I know, there was no more violence, everyone just turned away from home and started fresh, going to the families of their spouses for the extended family relationships.
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