Hank

by

This is Hank. He’s my wife’s father. In many ways he’s been a father to me for about 15 years now. Hank will be 93 years-old in December but his brain is about 50, max. Hank’s a very, very good man. Smart. Funny. Honorable. Handy. Artistic. He has ways and opinions too.

Our typical face-to-face greeting is for both of us to suddenly assume boxing poses and poke around playfully. The ladies just shake their pretty heads. I often call him Captain and sometimes I salute. Sometimes I call him Dr. Hank, or, simply “The Good Doctor.”

And I know I just typed a bunch of words about Dadism elsewhere (and people losing their fathers and such), but let me be clear (like Obeezy says), Hank is one of the very best fathers I’ve ever known (I’ve mentioned this already). I pay attention.

Hank’s been fighting some battles recently, all WWII style, but he’s now finding himself on the losing team for the first time. I plan to make this OG homie’s next era very good for him.

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