Henry Hansen Story
Hank was usually the butt of the jokes. Like the time they took a helicopter into the Wallows high (and cold) country and he left his sleeping bag at base camp. Or the time he showed the men how to tie a horse properly and securely (he was good with knots) and then the next morning finding a lone rope and the horse long gone. They spent that day following "Old Ben's" tracks in the snow about five miles back down the road toward home. Or the year he discovered that he had brought along the wrong shells or the next year when he brought them again! Or the many ways he could get lost on his famous shortcuts--or the toughness of his infamous pancakes. In the beginning I made the pancake mix for him--home ground whole wheat pancakes--but as the years went by he felt he could handle that. I finally figured out what his problem was! He would do fine with the flour and milk and eggs, but then there was salt and he had a suspicion that salt wasn't good for you so he used almost none. Then sugar! He knew that was bad so almost none of that. Oil--he figured the oil in the pan would do it. As far as baking powder was concerned he wasn't sure that was important. His mates decided against pancakes after all but he never gave up trying. He just wasn't much of a cook. There was a time that I had to remain in bed for 3 weeks during the last month of my pregnancy with Dean. We heard Barbara tell her friends that her daddy could only cook two things--corn flakes and hot dogs--and that was truly the way it was.
The humorous stories about Hank became more and more popular. On one occasion the Ward had a dinner and the entertainment was a 'Roast' for Hank with many of his friends participating. It was a hilarious event but the complaints we heard afterward were that there were many stories untold that should have been included! Everybody had his own collection. One that I remember was his ball-team's favorite. It was a crucial game--the score was close and we were in the final inning. Hank got on the base and Ray Crunk got a big hit. As Hank rounded second he realized that he had somehow missed stepping on the bag so he reversed his stride and passed Ray who was hot it to 3rd--the wrong direction. Well! It caused all kinds of excitement. No one had noticed that he missed the bag but he knew he had. He was "out" but he felt that he had done the right and honest thing. It cost them the game and his teammates wanted to strangle him but he was satisfied that he had done the honorable thing and didn't care at all about the uproar it caused. It was a typical Henry Hansen attitude (and action for that matter).
There was a time when he learned to play golf-and loved it. His golf partners were Ted Perry and Ken Vermillion and various others, but he was frustrated that I wouldn't play also--even though he bought clubs for me. I couldn't make my legs do that even then, and of course it didn't occur to us to rent a cart.
There were other people in our lives that brought us happiness and/or heartache. Hank used to just bring people home--sometimes just for dinner and sometimes for a week or a summer. Wally Petersen was one who brought us great fun and companionship. He was trying out for professional baseball and became a real favorite in our family. They played their games and shared one pair of white pants and I spent a good many hours washing out the dirt and grass stains, daily so that they each got their turn with the white pants. Wally had a fascination with fork-lifts and one evening as Hank came up 79th he thought he saw in the distance a machine just like his going down the road. So off he went to investigate. Well, Wally saw him coming and tried to out run then out-hide him in a neighbor's driveway! It was the source of lots of laughs for years to follow as was a lot of other nonsense. Hank was a good sport about all that went on. I could always picture my dad in similar situations with a very different attitude!
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Justin Little Whirlwind, a Northern Cheyenne Indian from Lame Deer, Montana, came to us for the better part of 4 school years on the Indian placement program of the Church. He brought us much joy and then finally, much grief. His story would take (another) book, but for the purpose of this record I'll just say that Hank's experience with Justin was rather typical. He did so much for him. Justin joined a boxing program and there were many times we left our own children at home and drove many hours to matches that were out of town. He gave him anything he would give his own sons-and more. He taught him what skills he could in the shop--tried to give him any and every experience that would insure his happiness here with our family and obedience to our rules. Yet while he was great with the big things, he was short-sighted in little things. Like the length of hair. At that time the styles were suddenly long (the Beatles) and Hank couldn't nor wouldn't accept that and his young sons rebelled. Not that their hair ever got very long--he just demanded that it be very short. It was difficult for me. I was caught in the middle and neither would give. I saw to it that their hair was cut regularly but somehow never short enough for Hank and we were all unhappy. As the time went by our rules became too restrictive for Justin and he began showing signs of real trouble. I found drugs too many times and after one bad weekend when he ran away with his drinking friends, I loaded him up and took him to the bus depot! I was completely exhausted and angry and protective at that time of my own family. I felt that Justin's actions demanded that we get him out of our home. The Church had abandoned him 2 years before on the 'program' when they went to see him during the summer on the reservation and found him drunk. He had promised to 'be good' and broken that promise over and over. My patience ran right out but as we sat there in that bus depot I heard my name paged. It was Hank on the phone. He had arrived home from work and found out what was happening. He begged me to come home with Justin--give him another chance. He was so understanding and patient in the big problems! However I was not and Justin went home! I took a stand. If only the boys could have seen him as he really was, they would have known he was much easier in the most important things in life--always ready to forgive and forget (but not with long hair!).
Another visitor in our home was an exchange student from Connecticut. He stayed with us one school term and it was a total disaster. That boy was so obnoxious none of us could stand him--but Hank tried! Kept telling me that we could not send him away, that he needed help and he would sit with him and spell it out. In a nice way he tried to tell him why he didn't have friends and what to do about it. Nothing changed at all, except he did find a girlfriend. One Saturday afternoon I was working at the Stake blood drive and away from home--all day. When Hank came through I asked him how things were at home and could tell that something had happened. (He could not lie nor even cover up). So I demanded to know and he admitted that he had come across this young man and his girlfriend in a most compromising situation--in his bedroom, while Susan and her boyfriend were here in the house unaware. I was completely outraged and demanded that he be removed from our home before I got back. He made the necessary phone call and someone came and got him but Hank felt we had not done the right thing and should have tried harder. We had him here for about five months and had taken him on a long trip (California) and many short ones, had done all that I felt we could and had changed nothing. Nonetheless, Hank was ready and willing to try harder. It was my decision that sent him away and I stuck to it even as he (Hank) pleaded with me to give him another chance. Sometimes I got my way!
One wet Spring the rivers all flooded and suddenly the City of Tualatin was being flooded. At least the part of town where we have friends. Off Hank went and when he returned he had the whole family and they stayed for a week. That was great fun. He tended to relate to young people. As we grew older our friends became younger. Pat and Dawn Probst moved into our Ward and into our lives. Dawn had a horse and they lived on 79th St. so she would come almost daily in good weather to see if Hank could "play". Well of course he could and off they would go--he and Susan and Dawn riding up and down 79th and all the good trails they found nearby. We became a hangout for the high school crowd in the neighborhood. Hank was an easy touch for a ride--or a few dollars, or both. 79th Street had little traffic in those days. Sometimes he would ride his Honda '90 and stopping to offer a ride to Connie Jones on the horse or bike. They called him a big kid. When it snowed in the wintertime he would cruise the roads with his 4-wheel truck and look for people who needed rescuing--and would find them. He also carried a box of Books of Mormon in his truck to hand out. Right from the beginning of his activity in the Church he loved to talk about it and shared his testimony with anyone and everyone. If he was late coming home for dinner I could guess where he was. Someone would show an interest in his 'faith,' or at least was willing to listen and as long as they were willing, what could he do? There were a lot of people who knew about that "Mormon bricklayer" and his reputation spread--both for his religion and his trade.
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