Workday.
I’m still floored.
I had a serendipitous event today.
I found Hank. He’s 98 years old, still alive. Still has his mind, was blind in one eye (the patch) and the other eye he barely has vision. His hearing is almost gone.
I’ve searched for him for quite awhile. Not, eh, let me to an internet search for him type of search. Had friends exhaust their avenues, checking obits; old numbers, old friends, I faxed the office at the complex he lived in, called them, drove to his complex and asked around … and I’d call his number every week, all disconnected. I figured the worst given his age. But I tried and tried and tried and tried, even as of Friday last week. Today, not looking for him at all, I found him.
We met in 2000 and took in many basketball practices together. He’s been to my home for some holidays and other occasions. Many other Rebel occasions. Everyone at least knew who Hank was … the patch was the dead giveaway and he was always around men’s basketball.
Even though he stopped attending practice (he just couldn’t get there anymore, too hard for him. Menzies banned him from practice and he stopped going, by the time Kevin was here, he just couldn’t get there. So he and I would talk every week, every couple of weeks, he’d call, I’d call, always keeping tabs on each other.
I loved his stories because he lived them. Loved hearing about the depression and wars, culture and the politics. Hank and I agreed on things less than 1 percent of the time; whether it be hoops and hoops strategy, world events, politics, anything. We talked about everything. It really was like grandfather/grandson in many ways. Even though we never agreed and we can both be hardheaded (I can’t match Hank though), there was never any hard feelings. I respect the hell out of the guy, peculiarities and all. We just got along well in spite never agreeing on anything. I respect elders especially enjoy when they can share wisdom and experiences.
I mean there were times where it got red faced heated and I’ll probably always be a fkn jughead to him but I’ll probably always be a goddamn son of a gun to him - and he will always be a crotchety son of a bitch to me.
Anyway, I can’t get into too much detail, obviously. He’s doing ok. Not dying of anything chronic but he’s 98 and falling apart, losing senses but not his mind, though it is starting to slip, but I’ll cut him some slack.
It really was a great way to end the day.
I’m still floored.
I had a serendipitous event today.
I found Hank. He’s 98 years old, still alive. Still has his mind, was blind in one eye (the patch) and the other eye he barely has vision. His hearing is almost gone.
I’ve searched for him for quite awhile. Not, eh, let me to an internet search for him type of search. Had friends exhaust their avenues, checking obits; old numbers, old friends, I faxed the office at the complex he lived in, called them, drove to his complex and asked around … and I’d call his number every week, all disconnected. I figured the worst given his age. But I tried and tried and tried and tried, even as of Friday last week. Today, not looking for him at all, I found him.
We met in 2000 and took in many basketball practices together. He’s been to my home for some holidays and other occasions. Many other Rebel occasions. Everyone at least knew who Hank was … the patch was the dead giveaway and he was always around men’s basketball.
Even though he stopped attending practice (he just couldn’t get there anymore, too hard for him. Menzies banned him from practice and he stopped going, by the time Kevin was here, he just couldn’t get there. So he and I would talk every week, every couple of weeks, he’d call, I’d call, always keeping tabs on each other.
I loved his stories because he lived them. Loved hearing about the depression and wars, culture and the politics. Hank and I agreed on things less than 1 percent of the time; whether it be hoops and hoops strategy, world events, politics, anything. We talked about everything. It really was like grandfather/grandson in many ways. Even though we never agreed and we can both be hardheaded (I can’t match Hank though), there was never any hard feelings. I respect the hell out of the guy, peculiarities and all. We just got along well in spite never agreeing on anything. I respect elders especially enjoy when they can share wisdom and experiences.
I mean there were times where it got red faced heated and I’ll probably always be a fkn jughead to him but I’ll probably always be a goddamn son of a gun to him - and he will always be a crotchety son of a bitch to me.
Anyway, I can’t get into too much detail, obviously. He’s doing ok. Not dying of anything chronic but he’s 98 and falling apart, losing senses but not his mind, though it is starting to slip, but I’ll cut him some slack.
It really was a great way to end the day.
