“Heath,” my friend, Nancy laughed, placing a hand on my arm “Hank’s the Mayor of Soul Hollywood.”
This past Sunday morning at our regular 9:30 class with Heather, we were standing outside the classroom waiting to clip into our bikes. Nancy’s husband, Jon, was close by. They are good friends and ride in Malibu.
Hank was deep in conversation with one of the instructors whose partner had been in a serious motorcycle accident.
“I know,” I said to Nancy. “Look at him. He knows everyone. It’s like Bruin Woods,” I said. “Remember his itinerary of events for the week? He’s always been that involved guy.”
Nancy and Jon smiled, knowing Hank well after spending ten years with us at UCLA Family Camp.
Hank’s a joiner. Loves the schedule. The plan. The people.
As I write this on a Monday flight with Hank to New York, Hank, on his laptop, just leaned over…”Did you want me to book any bikes this week?”
“I’m good,” I reply.
“I’ve booked Danielle at 5:00 on Friday…Then, on Sunday, we have that brunch, so I’m thinking 4 o’clock….”
I smile and return to my laptop. Hank’s an insurance guy. It’s all about the relationships, he tells me, about his business. On this trip, he will be working the room. I’ll hang back. I’ll find that interesting person and never move.
He’ll do a debrief on the ride back to the hotel. I’ll nod. Probably forget all the names…
I should have known he’d embrace this SoulCycle thing. It’s an activity. And, Hank loves an activity. When I took him that first time, I never thought he’d like it. He’d been curious after I’d come home, loving it – and the people.
|Hank, participating in the Mannequin Challenge|
When he’s in his Orange County office, he rides after work in the Newport SoulCycle. If he’s in the LA office, he’s at Soul DTLA at the end of the day. On Friday afternoon, it’s Pasadena Soul. Rounding out the week, it’s Hollywood Soul on Sunday morning.
And in a way I’m embarrassed by his exuberance. But, truthfully, how wonderful for him to embrace a healthy thing - to care, to know the names of the desk staff. “Did you see? Lindsey’s back from Boston…”
I love that ... Never too cool to be that guy.
I keep coming back to my eighty-nine-year-old mother’s wise words….”Consider yourself lucky,” she says. “He could be like my first two (husbands) boozing it up in the bar.”
I lean back over to Hank now on a project on his computer. I tap him on his shoulder. His eyes are glued to the screen. I give him a smile, a squeeze to his arm. He looks at me questioning. He’s intense and in work mode now.
“Sign me up for the 4:00 o’clock Sunday. I’ll go with you.”
He softens. “Ok.”