Hazel Henderson -- 1945/2022
For all my Canadian friends -- and they are many. My British Bride of 44 years joined God's heavenly choir on August 26th, 2022, after a short illness. Lung cancer, pneumonia and COVID were too mu...
Forum Discussion
The room was blue with cigarette smoke on that evening in 1977 when two young English lassies walked into the Top Four on RAF Mildenhall. England. They had stopped for a nighcap before going home.
Steve, a fellow Air Force friend visiting from out headquarters in San Antonio, asked the young ladies if we could join them for a drink. Hazel said no. Janet said yes. Just a few months later, on May 13, 1978, Hazel and I were married in nearby Newmarket in northern Suffolk, England.
My proposal of marriage will most likely not go down in history as one of the great romantic moments of all time. But it was classic, sort of. Or not. Four of us were again in the Top Four (Non-Commissioned Officers Club for the top four enlisted ranks). Hazel and Janet were sitting at the bar, I was standing next to Hazel. I took a cigarette out of a pack, and dropped it on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, I ever so elegantly poised the question. I stated, “I dropped my dxxn cigarette. Will you marry me? She didn't say yes immediately – took a while, but eventually, she did, and the ride began.
We were married in a small civil ceremony in Newmarket, England, with a reception following in the same Top Four. Several of Hazel's English friends, her brother and sister-in-law, her two girls and some of my Air Force friends were there. I had flown a mission a couple of days earlier from which we almost didn't come back. But we did. Billy Tolbert and Pat Mower were there.
I was still stationed in Omaha, Nebraska at the time. In June, Hazel and the girls flew into Houston, and I picked them up there. We stopped in Carrollton, Texas at my brother Bill's home and spent a couple of nights. Bill, of course, very quickly convinced Hazel that everything in Oklahoma and Nebraska would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Hazel, being city-bred, was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
My new bride and the girls, Lindy and Allie, spent a few days with me at my home in Plattsmouth, Nebraska, where Hazel was convinced that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Hazel, being city-bred, was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
After a few days in Plattsmouth, we headed northwest to Tacoma, Washington to visit Hazel's sister and family. Uneventful trip up, but we saw some beautiful country. When passing through Wyoming Hazel knew that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
After an all too short visit, we headed back to Nebraska, taking a different route. Drove through Yellowstone National Park, then on into South Dakota. Suddenly, we were surrounded by a gazillion hell's angels, hogs, leathers, chains and all. Told my brand new British Bride that we were all dead – they were going to murder us. I was driving a 1977 Pontiac TransAm, and for a moment, considered trying to outrun them. Gave up on that idea as there were just too many. It wasn't until later that I found out about Biker Week in Spearfish, South Dakota, where upwards to 100,000 bikers meet annually. Hazel was convinced that everything in South Dakota would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
After a short stay in Plattsmouth, Hazel and the girls flew back to England, leaving me to finish the remaining three months of my Offut tour before joining them in Mildenhall, England. At least in Mildenhall, there was nothing to either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Hazel, being city-bred, was overjoyed at being out of harm's way.
After three years in Mildenhall, we returned to Nebraska, where Hazel was convinced that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
We spent five years in Bellevue, the girls graduated high school there, and we were active members of the Bellevue Christian Center.
I retired from the Air Force in October, 1986 and we moved to an old farm house near my hometown of Anadarko, Oklahoma. Hazel was convinced that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
Hazel and Lindy made the move to Oklahoma, and Allie and I stayed in Bellevue for one more month until my Air Force time was up. She settled into a 100-year old farmhouse out in the country near the Washita River. A small rural Oklahoma community is a far cry from London, England. No Tower of London, no House of Parliament, no London Bridge – and the Washita River is not quite the Thames...
While I was still in Nebraska, Hazel called my brother-in-law in a panic. She said there was some kind of hideous terrible critter in her car, and would he please come and get it out. Darrell immediately drove the 20 miles from his home to ours, and removed – a GRASSHOPPER from Hazel's car... Keep in mind that my British Bride was London-bred and these critters were completely alien to her. She wanted to return to England immediately.
We needed a propane tank for our property, and since I was still in Nebraska, my British Bride went to my mother's husband, J.D., for help. But she didn't ask for a propane tank – she asked for a “silver bullet thing.” Jake told her where to go in Anadarko to order one, and after she left for the ten mile drive, he called the local propane dealer and told them, “There is a lady coming to see you, she talks funny, and she will ask for a “silver bullet thing.” What she wants is a propane tank...”
Hazel loved to mow the grass. Since we had about a two acre yard, this was no simple process. I was now in Oklahoma with her, and she asked me where the safety goggles were. I had no idea, since most of our things were still packed. But I had an idea. I had a black, full face motorcycle helmet. So here we have my British Bride puttering around on a lawnmower wearing a full-face motorcycle helmet – the neighbors are still talking about that.
It has been 36 years since we made the move to the Cultural Center of the Great Southwest, if not the Known Universe. We've seen the girls grow up, get married, have families of their own. It's been 36 years of excitement, travel, meeting new friends, enjoying life and God's wonderful creation. We started traveling in a motorhome, spending six to eight weeks annually on Vancouver Island. Made a couple of trips the other way, to Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia in the eastern Canadian Maritimes. Met lots of new friends, saw a lot of country, enjoyed what God has created for us. Visited nine Canadian provinces and 40 or so of the States. Hazel is convinced that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
On August 26th, 2022, my British Bride joined God's heavenly choir at age 76 and after 44 years three months and 12 days of marriage. Now, there is nothing that will stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Two hours after her passing, our great great grandson, Ethan Ray Jurey, was born. Hazel had been called home to prepare him for entry into this world.
Oh, and she has been placed in charge of the heavenly choir.
Our God took an angel, and gave us another one as a replacement.
Hazel Pritchard Henderson, September 22, 1945 – August 26th, 2022.
DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE AND WEEP
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
Steve, a fellow Air Force friend visiting from out headquarters in San Antonio, asked the young ladies if we could join them for a drink. Hazel said no. Janet said yes. Just a few months later, on May 13, 1978, Hazel and I were married in nearby Newmarket in northern Suffolk, England.
My proposal of marriage will most likely not go down in history as one of the great romantic moments of all time. But it was classic, sort of. Or not. Four of us were again in the Top Four (Non-Commissioned Officers Club for the top four enlisted ranks). Hazel and Janet were sitting at the bar, I was standing next to Hazel. I took a cigarette out of a pack, and dropped it on the floor. Bending down to pick it up, I ever so elegantly poised the question. I stated, “I dropped my dxxn cigarette. Will you marry me? She didn't say yes immediately – took a while, but eventually, she did, and the ride began.
We were married in a small civil ceremony in Newmarket, England, with a reception following in the same Top Four. Several of Hazel's English friends, her brother and sister-in-law, her two girls and some of my Air Force friends were there. I had flown a mission a couple of days earlier from which we almost didn't come back. But we did. Billy Tolbert and Pat Mower were there.
I was still stationed in Omaha, Nebraska at the time. In June, Hazel and the girls flew into Houston, and I picked them up there. We stopped in Carrollton, Texas at my brother Bill's home and spent a couple of nights. Bill, of course, very quickly convinced Hazel that everything in Oklahoma and Nebraska would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Hazel, being city-bred, was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
My new bride and the girls, Lindy and Allie, spent a few days with me at my home in Plattsmouth, Nebraska, where Hazel was convinced that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Hazel, being city-bred, was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
After a few days in Plattsmouth, we headed northwest to Tacoma, Washington to visit Hazel's sister and family. Uneventful trip up, but we saw some beautiful country. When passing through Wyoming Hazel knew that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
After an all too short visit, we headed back to Nebraska, taking a different route. Drove through Yellowstone National Park, then on into South Dakota. Suddenly, we were surrounded by a gazillion hell's angels, hogs, leathers, chains and all. Told my brand new British Bride that we were all dead – they were going to murder us. I was driving a 1977 Pontiac TransAm, and for a moment, considered trying to outrun them. Gave up on that idea as there were just too many. It wasn't until later that I found out about Biker Week in Spearfish, South Dakota, where upwards to 100,000 bikers meet annually. Hazel was convinced that everything in South Dakota would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
After a short stay in Plattsmouth, Hazel and the girls flew back to England, leaving me to finish the remaining three months of my Offut tour before joining them in Mildenhall, England. At least in Mildenhall, there was nothing to either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Hazel, being city-bred, was overjoyed at being out of harm's way.
After three years in Mildenhall, we returned to Nebraska, where Hazel was convinced that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
We spent five years in Bellevue, the girls graduated high school there, and we were active members of the Bellevue Christian Center.
I retired from the Air Force in October, 1986 and we moved to an old farm house near my hometown of Anadarko, Oklahoma. Hazel was convinced that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
Hazel and Lindy made the move to Oklahoma, and Allie and I stayed in Bellevue for one more month until my Air Force time was up. She settled into a 100-year old farmhouse out in the country near the Washita River. A small rural Oklahoma community is a far cry from London, England. No Tower of London, no House of Parliament, no London Bridge – and the Washita River is not quite the Thames...
While I was still in Nebraska, Hazel called my brother-in-law in a panic. She said there was some kind of hideous terrible critter in her car, and would he please come and get it out. Darrell immediately drove the 20 miles from his home to ours, and removed – a GRASSHOPPER from Hazel's car... Keep in mind that my British Bride was London-bred and these critters were completely alien to her. She wanted to return to England immediately.
We needed a propane tank for our property, and since I was still in Nebraska, my British Bride went to my mother's husband, J.D., for help. But she didn't ask for a propane tank – she asked for a “silver bullet thing.” Jake told her where to go in Anadarko to order one, and after she left for the ten mile drive, he called the local propane dealer and told them, “There is a lady coming to see you, she talks funny, and she will ask for a “silver bullet thing.” What she wants is a propane tank...”
Hazel loved to mow the grass. Since we had about a two acre yard, this was no simple process. I was now in Oklahoma with her, and she asked me where the safety goggles were. I had no idea, since most of our things were still packed. But I had an idea. I had a black, full face motorcycle helmet. So here we have my British Bride puttering around on a lawnmower wearing a full-face motorcycle helmet – the neighbors are still talking about that.
It has been 36 years since we made the move to the Cultural Center of the Great Southwest, if not the Known Universe. We've seen the girls grow up, get married, have families of their own. It's been 36 years of excitement, travel, meeting new friends, enjoying life and God's wonderful creation. We started traveling in a motorhome, spending six to eight weeks annually on Vancouver Island. Made a couple of trips the other way, to Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia in the eastern Canadian Maritimes. Met lots of new friends, saw a lot of country, enjoyed what God has created for us. Visited nine Canadian provinces and 40 or so of the States. Hazel is convinced that everything would either stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Being city-bred, she was terrified and wanted to go back to England immediately.
On August 26th, 2022, my British Bride joined God's heavenly choir at age 76 and after 44 years three months and 12 days of marriage. Now, there is nothing that will stick her, bite her, poison her, sting her or otherwise cause harm. Two hours after her passing, our great great grandson, Ethan Ray Jurey, was born. Hazel had been called home to prepare him for entry into this world.
Oh, and she has been placed in charge of the heavenly choir.
Our God took an angel, and gave us another one as a replacement.
Hazel Pritchard Henderson, September 22, 1945 – August 26th, 2022.
DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE AND WEEP
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
