Dat Girl From Sheepshead Bay



Today’s post was going to be about my own foolishness and how it got me a date with Wilfred Brimley’s brother. But since Life doesn’t seem to follow a routine plan I’m going to share with you some life lessons that I learned from a man who everyone thought was a fool.

Hank was no fool. In fact he was a genius. Hank was born normal like you and I but a freak medical procedure when he was a kid left him disabled with the mentality of a child. Hank limped into my life dragging a knapsack on wheels about 6 years ago when he and his older brother George would come to our offices to volunteer. You can’t know Hank without also knowing his older brother George.

George is a Korean war vet with a giant heart. George’s legacy will be his kind soul and his volunteer efforts with war vets, the NYC marathon, and the AARP. He has letters from 5 or 6 different presidents thanking him for his service hanging on the wall of his modest apartment. On their mother’s death bed she begged George to look after his younger brother. At the age of 80 and a half George is now free of this obligation.




Hank and George

 Recently I helped George get some information on how to make arrangements for Hank’s life in preparation for when George leaves this one. No one ever though that Hank would leave us first. Hank is a handful. And even though he needs assistance, he also needs his independence. The last couple of years, George and Hank came to our office less and less. The commute in from Bay Ridge was challenging on George’s aging body. So I went to them. I spent quite a few Saturday afternoons, drinking decaf coffees, eating diabetic cheesecake at every diner in the Ridge. I ran into George this past Sunday at the Third Avenue Street Fair sans Hank. Hank had gone ahead probably looking for his best friend – Curtis Sliwa. If I had known then that this would be the last opportunity I would have to see him, I would have raced ahead to find him.

Hank was a character. Rough around the edges, a little dirty too, scruffy voice, always preceded by the clanging sounds of no less than three bus pass lanyards filled with a few dozen PBA cards. He was always adorned with multiple pins from all the different areas of military services and he was never without his police scanner. The hum of it was the soundtrack of his life. I thought I would share some Hank-isms that oddly enough are pretty hilarious life lessons. Hope they give you an idea of what a good guy he was:

• The best part of a hot dog is the middle, so bite the ends off with relish and spit ‘em out.

• Freebies are meant to be taken, doesn’t matter how many of them you take. They are free so fill up your knapsack and run.

• Life’s a gamble so blow your disability check on as many “scratch me ups” as you can.

• Showing love and surrounding yourself with stray animals is way better than wasting your time on bad people.

• Approach Life the same way you would a crane arcade game filled with stuffed animals. Set your sights on the best one and get it. Even if it means you blow $10 trying to do it.

My favorite memory of Hank is the one he’s notorious for. Hank was not a fan of coming to the office. He didn’t like the way management looked at him. One day he had had enough and threatened to blow the office up. This was preceded by him getting caught raiding the “gift closet.” He expressed to me and anyone else in ear shot that he was going to blow this place up. But he would tell one of my co-workers (who he had a crush on) and “dat girl from Sheepshead Bay” about the bomb first because he didn’t want us to get hurt. I knew then that he cared. That has always made me feel special.

I’ll miss ya, Hank!