Greg Hankins, my Dad

I will always be reading the book of you. Always singing the tune of you. Always walking the path of you. I will see you every day when I look in the mirror and when I look at my heart. Goodnight, my father, it's me, goodnight. Shanti shanti shanti. Amen. All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

A piece of a song I wrote for you:

"I'm glad I have a heart, though now it's broken.
I hope another door will open.
Until then, I'll be strong.

Goodbye to the me I know beside you.
I hope that love will find you
And you won't wait too long.

Nothing lasts forever except our song.
Nothing lasts forever except our song."

Thank you to all of my friends who have been so supportive and who offered up prayers and thoughts for Dad over this last year and longer. I'm sorry that not all of you knew that he was sick. He was very private and never lost his sense of hope. He was trying to make friends with the EMS people and talking a blue streak until the very last moment. Our bodies are so fragile even when our minds are so strong and willing.

I love you, Dad. Call me on the banana phone sometimes.

Stephen Gregory “Greg” Hankins, 59, of Mount Gilead, died Sunday, July 24, 2016.

He died from complications from Myelodysplastic Syndrome and Acute Myeloid Leukemia (AML) at his home.

He was a native of Richlands and Jewell Ridge, Va.

Mr. Hankins was a graduate of Richlands High School and the valedictorian of the Class of 1975. He attended Davidson College, Davidson, and graduated cum laude in 1979, with bachelor’s degree with honors in religion. Mr. Hankins earned a master’s in divinity degree at Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass., in 1982.

He had worked as a consultant for Butterfield Communications in Belmont, Mass., under David Butterfield. In 1986, he and his family moved to Las Cruces, N.M., and he worked with his father and brother in a start-up newspaper venture.

The family moved to Omaha, Neb., in 1987 where he worked for Pappas Telecasting as the marketing director and in sales support at Channel 42 KPTM television.

Starting in 1988, Mr. Hankins worked for WTVF Channel 5 Television station in Nashville, Tenn., as the marketing director under General Manager Tom Erwin and eventually for Lemuel E. Lewis of Landmark Communications Inc. He served in this position for seven years.

In 1995, he and his family moved to Mount Gilead to pursue his dream career in the newspaper business, in the beginning working with his father and brother for two years at the Montgomery Herald, Troy, and eventually becoming the editor and publisher of The Seven Lakes Times of Seven Lakes. He did this for more than 20 years with his wife, Marcella (Marcy) Hankins.

He was preceded in death by his father, Robert Guy Hankins; maternal grandparents, Avery and Narcie Smith; and paternal grandparents, Sutherland and Georgia Hankins.

Mr. Hankins is survived by his wife, Marcella Hankins; daughters, Jennifer (Jeni) A. Hankins, of Nashville, Tenn., Sarah E. Hankins, of Greensboro; his mother, Ann Smith Hankins Shreve, of Jewell Ridge, Va.; brother Thomas G. Hankins, and his wife, Crystal, of Candor; half-sister, Stephanie Grayson Pierce, and her husband, Joshua, of Mooresville; his nieces and nephews; and his faithful cat, Olivia.

At Mr. Hankins’ request there will be no local service or memorial held.

In lieu of flowers, donations to defray medical costs may be made to: The Women of Seven Lakes, Hankins Account, 850 Seven Lakes North, Seven Lakes, NC 27376.

Arrangements provided by Pugh Funeral Home of Troy.

Mingling with Stardust

For you, Uncle Willard. You've been winking at us from the stars for a little more than a year now.

Dr. Robert (Bob) John Manning (1942-2015) asked me to call him Uncle Willard because I had known his family since I was three or four years old and had taken up residence in the apartment above his wood shop. “Dr. Manning” seemed a bit formal for old friends. Dr. Manning was a professor of Physics, Astronomy, Classical Mathematics, and Humanities at Davidson College in North Carolina. He was also the chair of the Center for Interdisciplinary Studies where I created my major in Classical Political Philosophy.

Song for Uncle Willard: Scientist, Philosopher, and Mentor

© Jeni Hankins 2015

If I could live in your study,

and read every book that you owned,

I might find a note in the margins –

a theorem of where you have flown.

‘Cause I’d like conjecture,

I’d like to work you into my proof,

and offer you a hypothesis

on how much I will miss you.

Add a girl who ran down the stairs

wearing two crȇpe paper wings.

Subtract any frowns, if she chanced to fall down,

‘cause we never dwelled on those things.

Add a thimble of stardust to share

to the power of three Yogi Berras.

Divide any doubts ’til the proof shakes on out.

Je pense, donc je suis and etcetera.

I hear you are mingling with stardust,

which proves that Fermat was correct.

Solutions we find are not always kind

when we wish they were magic instead.

Are you up there with tireless angels

moving the spheres all around?

I’ll be right here, sweeping sawdust and tears

’til your famous last theorem is found.

Alan Rickman

You said you'd cut our hearts out with a spoon, and, today, you did. Goodbye, Alan Rickman. I saw you twice in real life in NYC, just being a regular ole citizen of the planet. You were in the lobby at a performance of the Blue Man Group and then, again, at a performance of Japanese Noh at BAM. I've always thought it curious that in the plays we saw in common, the players were covered in paint - blue and then white. I'm not sure what that signifies, but both times I felt giddy. I hope you're taking in a show of painted players right now, perhaps the color of starlight.

Bowie

When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time staring at the cover of Aladdin Sane. I loved looking at these time capsules left behind by the world my parents called "before you were born." The time I spent with David Bowie was time very well spent. My "Never Let Me Down" tape won't play anymore which is evidence of a friendship well worn.

My poetry mentor always said let other artists be your teachers. David Bowie showed up to school in a plastic suit and platform shoes. Thank you for staring back at me, Ziggy Stardust, for scaring the bejeesus out of me as Jareth in Labyrinth, for letting me back you up in my pajamas with my hairbrush microphone on "Day-In, Day-Out," and for being one of those supreme teachers of theatrical musical arts and glitter.