Hammerin' Hank

I threw together this video in honor of Pop. The pictures aren't in the order I wanted them to be. There are no captions like I intended. None the less, it honors him, in lots of ways. We had it playing continuously at the funeral home during the calling hours. Most of the photos are from the "nursing home days" which have been the last three years or so. The quality kinda stinks, "web streaming quality". You get the idea though.

There aren't enough photos, words, or memories to explain my grandpa. You had to know him. He'd feed you until you were painfully full. And when I didn't like what we were eating, he'd make nuggets and fries just for me. Pocahontas, he used to call me. He'd give you the shirt off his back. He'd do anything for anyone, even if he couldn't do it for himself. Duct tape fixed ANYTHING.

He spoiled me rotten the way any grandpa would. Every Christmas I got a porcelain doll. THAT gift was ONLY from Grandpa. I can even remember a few years getting some pretty awesome cowgirl boots that Mom didn't approve of, but Pop would just sing to me "Them boots are made for walking..." He gave me my treasured teddy bear when I was 4 years old (I still use that bear to cry with).When he picked me up from kindergarten we HAD to stop at McDonald's. My regular order was a Fun Meal with McNuggets, and honey to dip them in. Grandpa's request when ordering, that still rings in my head, "Can I have some honey for my Honey?"

You could never kiss the guy properly. He always had a toothpick in his mouth. So when saying "hellos" or "goodbyes" you learned pretty quickly to wait until he had that darned thing inside his mouth, or you'd get pricked!

And boy, oh boy, did he love his Roxy dog. When I adopted my Roxie, I knew it was meant to be because then Pop would have another Roxy in his life.

He NEVER got any words right. "Hank-isms", that's what we call them. Reebobs instead of Reeboks. The Fishes instead of Fishers. The list goes on and on. And no matter how hard he tried, he never got anyone's name right. He went through a whole slew of names before (occasionally) actually ending up with yours. Missy, Terri, AJ, Doug, Danny, Jamie, Scotty...AMOS! I think that means he left a pretty good legacy. There are so many of us that even he, the patriarch, couldn't keep track.

Thanks to Pop, I'm pretty sure that I learned how to play Euchre when I was 7. I can remember days and days and days of grown ups sitting around the kitchen table playing cards. You know who always won, right? Pop. He always knew what card to play and when to play it, and how to beat the odds. (And probably stack the deck, steal a deal, and catch a few extra points when no one was looking.) And when I would shuffle and deal he'd say "You could deal in Vegas, Amos!" And all his statements were accompanied with a whistle.

"LeBaron" and the Cavs have proven, lately, to be his one and only love! SO GO CAVS. Win one for Gramp.

In the past few years, it's amazing how much I could relate to Pop because his demeanor was at the level of my kindergartners. I'd force him to say "please" and "thank you" when he was ordering the nurses around. When his stories didn't make sense, I'd help him out by "completely understanding". Nursing home visits are notorious for being NO FUN, but that turned into our family time. And now, nursing home visits won't be the same without Pop.

Rest in Peace, Gramp. I love you.