HOH ~ 36

Henry Hansen Story

It was our youngest with whom he had the most common interest--and that of course was horses. Susan was born wanting a horse it seemed. When she was small she would greet him at the door every night saying 'buy me one or be one!' So down on his hands and knees he'd go and 'horsey' her around the house. This went on for years. She was getting bigger and heavier and then one day he caught his big toe in a cold air duct and tore the nail off. That did it, he decided it was time to get her a real horse. Besides that, she was training and riding a steer that we were planning on butchering--it did seem a good time to get a horse. His friend, Gordon Sage, worked for a 'dog food' company and had lots of stories about perfectly good horses that were being made into dog food. He took Hank out to the holding plant and let him choose one. That's how we got Ben for 5 cents a pound, just like they had purchased him. Ben turned out to be a great horse--a real character and much could be written-in fact has been by Susan--about the fun he brought to her and her Dad. Beloved though he was, he was no show horse and over the years she needed more of a challenge and various horses came and went--Sean, Brigham Young, Lamanite and finally Hoji who was a pony (Arabian) and one she could train from the beginning. Ben was still around for many years and they both rode, anywhere or whenever they could, up and down 79th, nearby trails, camping, hunting, beach, Flying M, or just here around and around our own fields and neighborhood. Angel was a large white Appaloosa and Hank's final horse and friend. It was a terrible day when he sold him. Spent much time making sure he had a good home (as he had Old Ben). But he had grown so weak he could no longer care for him.

The stories go on. There is no way to tell them all. I remain here on our original 2 acres in the home he built and added on to and remodeled. Over 50 years now and so packed with memories I can't face up to leaving--every brick, block and stone, every tree and bush and detail are the result of his hands and his labor. He was a simple man--yet complex. He lived to serve yet was not really easy to live with. He was full of fun, but sometimes it seemed like 5 year old Barbara was right when she said "he isn't funny when you live with him." He was totally and completely honest--in fact there was a party game we played on occasion where you have to tell one truth and two lies and he couldn't do it! Could not tell a lie even in fun. I often told him he was a champion 'fusser.' He would fuss at me all the while I was getting ready--for anywhere--until I was out the door, having left all the details of closing down the house for me to do, in the car and then would remember he hadn't checked the oil, cleaned the windshield, gassed it up (we had our own tank for years), found his sunglasses, read the map, whatever, etc., etc.

I also used to tell him that he would rather argue than eat--he did love a good argument--with anybody or everybody. It was a way of communicating he had. He loved a lot of things--his family most of all, though we sometimes wouldn't have guessed it. He loved everybody! He loved his Church and the opportunity of serving and associating with such good people. He loved his Heavenly Father and had a strong and abiding testimony of the truthfulness of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He went into those final weeks and days of his life with grace, never complaining nor was he fearful, knowing from gospel teachings that he would be reunited once again with all of us-to live forever in a body that was perfected--in a world without illness. He was, and is, a remarkable man. We will not forget him.

May 5,1998

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