Henry Hansen Story
We were there early, my family and close friends, and were in the R.S. room where the casket was open and friends could come and say goodbye before we closed it. When I went in there was just one chair--for me--and I wondered why they didn't provide a place to sit for the room full of family that were there with me. The line never ceased to press by. I tried to greet everyone but it wasn't easy. When the clock said 11:00 there was still a long line. We had to have the family Prayer (David) and start the service. We had expected a lot of people even though this was in the middle of the week and we knew many friends who were away on vacation or work. But when I saw the Chapel I was very surprised and realized why there were no chairs in the R.S. Room--they had used every chair in the building and they were all full, people even sitting on the stage. It looked like Stake conference.
I hope Hank was there! He would have been so pleased. Friends from all "walks of life"--he just loved everybody and everybody loved him--and he would have approved of the service also. Bardell was so funny, in fact got carried away and said some very funny things that weren't true at all (about the Playboy Magazine that they slipped in on him on a hunting trip). I had watched him when he got home, the first they he did was throw it into the fire. Bardell apologized to me later and said he got carried away with his story.
It was very difficult for all of them, but they did a great job and the music was perfect. They put a men's choir together. I never heard them before or since but they were wonderful. We buried him at Finley in the LDS section right underneath the picture of the Temple--he would have approved. We had purchased the grave sites only a couple of years before and I had suggested to him that the stone work was in bad need of repair and cleaning and tried to get him to do it, telling him he'd never rest easy with that crumbling masonry beside him--and never thinking that he'd be using it so soon. Somehow he never got around to going up to the cemetery. Bev and I had picked out the grave sites--the Roberts have adjoining ones.
It rained all that day (Wed.) Just like it had the day he died. We had a long, long procession with 4 motorcycle policeman to get us there (all wearing Langlitz Leathers jackets, too) and proceeded right down highway 217. It was hard to face then and it is hard to think about it now--he is still very much on our minds as I write this almost 5 years later. I put this whole thing away for over a year. Still don't want to deal with it. When I tell people how long it has been they say no it couldn't be.
Chuck Briggs told me recently that Hank just wasn't the kind you forgot--they still speak of him in meetings all over the area, in the Temple and wherever we gather. I never know when the speaker at Church will bring up his name and I've heard stories from lots of people that I hadn't heard before. When I took my car for a minor repair (taillight turn signal bulb), the owner, Mr. Setniker, told me with tears in his eyes that Hank had built his building and he said I'll tell you what kind of a man he was--Hank had given him a bid on the job and since he wasn't doing anything else, when they were putting up the blocks, he used to go help them. When the work was completed, Hank figured up how much work he had done and subtracted it from his bid. He told me that he didn't have to do that, but it was the kind of man he was. He charged me $3 for the bulb, which he had to go find, and nothing for the labor which took awhile since it was hard to get at.
The last check Hank wrote was to a plumber who came and worked on 2 toilets, replacing the mechanism inside the tank. That man reluctantly charged him $25. And I've had another one here recently to do the same and he would take no money--said Hank had been the first one to offer help to his family when his father left them.
I went to (Hank's) bank to have my name put on some documents or change names, whatever, and said to the woman at the desk, "you knew my husband if you've worked here for awhile" and she said "Oh, no--I've been away for five years, just came back" and I said "then you knew him." She said "Oh, we have many customers" and I said "Henry Hansen" and she stopped and looked at me and then described both him and his old red Datsun pickup--said he was her favorite customer and she had wondered what had happened to him. Then I had almost the same conversation with one of the 'girls' at the Keybank in the Durham location. Could have had the same reaction from any of those girls at either bank. He loved going to the bank, I think, and he always had trouble and they would bail him out. One of them said "I remember how he was in trouble for taking money out of your mother's account." And he was--he made deposits and wrote checks on too many accounts and had a hard time keeping them straight. But he would take chocolates or cookies or sweets of any kind and tease them and knew them all by name and they would help him with anything. I've only recently realized that my little household checking account is interest bearing and that is not given to everybody. Well I knew I got interest, but I thought everybody did--no.
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A 'High Counsel' speaker in Sac. Mtg., recently brought up his name--said what a privilege to sit by him on the High Counsel. He said if you are new in the Ward to wait until he was finished speaking and then turn to whoever you are sitting by and ask who Henry Hansen was and they would tell you, and he pointed out his name on the ball field.
There are too many stories to tell--of the impact he had on other people. He had such good friends. I've lost count of his 'best friends'--men who tearfully told me that they had lost their best friend. As for his children, they could each tell their own story of their dad--and I've tried to think of what would be uppermost in each of their minds. David was first and followed his dad everywhere, and yet their interests were so different. Hank always said that he would give his boys his 'trade'--that they wouldn't have to use it but they would know how to lay bricks when they were adults and would have that to fall back on if they needed it--and he did. They worked with him and he paid them well and they both became hard workers--though David chose not to follow in that line. I remember when he was quite small, he and Hank would play checkers until the day he said "Well Dad, you've just lost the game," and Hank said "no way," and David said "Well you've got to play that and then I'll play this and you will have to do that and I will do this .... " on and on and Hank said "That's it!" and never played another game of checkers--knew when he was outsmarted! David may remember the motorcycle years when as an adult, he began to ride and would park his big Guzzi bike behind Hank's pickup and have Hank back into it. Don't know how many times that happened. More than a few, but it was clear to Hank if you don't want to get it knocked over, don't park it behind me! He was always in a hurry.
Barbara's passion in her early years was music and from somewhere, the school (Durham) I believe, we bought a piano. She began lessons somewhere around 10 years of age and did wonderfully well. Never had to be told to practice, ever. After a short time on the piano she wanted an organ and Hank found an opportunity to trade work in exchange for one. He built a fireplace, which took a week. When I look at the instrument now it seems a waste--not worth 2 hours of a bricklayer's time really. But it served our purpose at the time. She switched to organ lessons and it wasn't many years before that organ wasn't satisfactory--not big enough. So we had to make other arrangements for her practices. In fact, she refused to play it all! Didn't ever worry Hank. He tried to be supportive of whatever his children's needs were.
He and Dean shared an interest in hunting--most anything--but it was duck hunting that was to bring the most fun. There was always a question as to who had actually brought down the duck. Since Hank had a shotgun and Dean had a beebee gun it shouldn't have been hard to figure. But at one meal at least, we uncovered beebees! Dean had figured out a way to win the argument. He 'planted' the evidence. He was a great artist from early years (and still is) but used to entertain himself at Church with drawings of the 'bird hunt' with his bee-bees going straight into the hapless ducks and Hank's shells going astray. It was great fun. But as Dean matured he lost his interest in hunting and fishing and sports and found an interest in Rock music, and longer hair, and cars, and girls, and found a dad who wasn't all that flexible--but they continued to work together and he did learn Hank's trade. Learned it very well--had an artistic touch to his work that exceeded Hank's and was ready to go into the business when Hank had to quit. It was very satisfying for Hank to see the kind of work Dean did and to see him do so well in the business. Most of Hank's contractors had retired by then so it was truly Dean's business and he did it well. He also renewed his interest in fishing and has become a great fly fisherman (catch and release). Although I tried, Hank never would just go sit by a stream or lake and fish for small catch. He wanted to catch salmon from a boat, period.
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