Hank was truly one of the good guys. Like many '59ers, he and I first met in seventh grade at Clinton School. Homeroom classes were paired, with most subjects taught by your own homeroom teacher (Mr. Cooper for me, Mr. Stone for Hank) or switched with the paired class. And our gym classes were also combined. Neither one of us was particularly distinguished there, as I recall.
But our friendship really began in Mr. Hutter's shop class. Boys in the two classes took shop while the girls combined in Home Economics. Mr. Hutter randomly assigned the two of us as partners. Lucky for me! Hank had golden hands and was gifted with a vision like Michaelangelo (who reportedly could see a statue in a block of marble and then chipped away what didn't belong). Hank, too, could look at a drawing, pick up some tools, and turn a piece of wood into a piece of art. Being completely selfless, he would grin at my futile attempts to do anything, and then make sure (usually when Mr. Hutter was occupied elsewhere) that I got through the class with all my fingers. Hank went on from there to build sets for many of the school plays.
After graduation Hank enlisted in the Air Force, where he distinguished himself as a Radar Specialist. He followed that with a series of jobs in the electronics field. He and I reconnected after the 40th reunion, emailing regularly, visiting each other from time to time, and working together on the 50th. Hank was an accomplished photographer, selling many photos of planes and trains. He assembled DVD's of both our 50th and the history of Morris School, and worked closely with the Rockville Centre Museum. An easy-going fellow who I never once heard raise his voice, he was truly one-of-a-kind, and I will really miss his friendship.
Steve Langfelder