Thread: My friend Hank

Henry Dutz was his name. Originally from Michigan he followed fishing like most of us do, avidly. If it swam, he chased it. Large or small. We met at the booth he ran at the local flea market and I knew when I met him we would be friends for a long time. Over the years he was responsible for a lot of the rods and reels and tackle that came to my house. Over the time we spent fishing he proved that his age didn't impair his nose for knowing what might make the difference. One spring trip about 7 yrs ago I couldn't find any Crappie, but knew they would be on the flats near deep water. Nice and quiet like he digs in my box and pulls a pink headed white marabou jig and begins casting to the deep and super slow retrieving it up the incline. Once he had put about 6 fish in the cooler I asked what he was doing and he fessed up. I tied one on also and he took the best part of a double limit to the house a few hours later. His stories of his younger days were funny and somewhat parallel to some of my younger life. Never being rich but always able to take care of the kids and Gladys, his wife of many years. He fished with me a few times, and picked up fish several others when he didn't have time to go but was there when I came off the water. I always enjoyed talking and spending time with him. A stop at his booth was always no less than 15 minutes, but usually more. As we go through this life we meet certain people that leave us richer when God calls them home, and Hank was just such a man. I'll miss his smile, and a joke or two that sometimes made the wife blush in a goodhearted way. Hank was called home Tuesday and his services will be Saturday, and I have to work so I can't attend. It leaves me heartsick, but having been a working man all his life I know he would say"business first". In the first pic Hank was "doing Surgery" removing a jig on a Crappie and fussing about his glasses the whole time. I believe that was in '09 and is the way I'll always remember him. He was in his mid 80's, living proof that God doesn't count the days you fish against your living days. God Bless you Hank, I'll miss you.