Kathy Hankel

Kathy Hankel, 74, of Jefferson, departed for her next journey October 6, 2016 accompanied by husband, Patrick Hankel; son, Christopher; brothers, Bob and Bruce Jeffries; parents, Edgar and Frieda (Grunwald) Jeffries.

She is survived by her daughters: Sarah (Jason) Hankel-Hoffman and Tierney (Chris) Millhollin all of Des Moines; her sons: Tyler (Jill) Hankel of Granger and Lou (Ann) Hankel of Pleasant Hill; three grandchildren: Christopher, Faith and Ryan; sister, Fay (John) Tracy of Boulder, Colo.; other relatives and many friends.

Honorary bearers are Colleen Clopton, Jackie and Fred Willich, Diane Foster, Chris Henning, Nancy Morris, Sue Lucht, Pat Rusnak, Mikki Schwarzkopf, Hollie Roberts, Teena Toliver, Shirley Stapleton, Au Group (photography friends) and The Coven Poetry Group.

“There will be a memorial gathering on Saturday, Oct. 22, 1 to 5 p.m., at Mom’s home, 503 Hickory Lane. Thank you with all our hearts for your food, cards, calls, flowers, memorials and support. We hope to celebrate Mom’s life with you at the memorial.” - The family of Kathy Hankel

“Kathy Hankel the Fabulous” - by Colleen O’Brien

Kathy Hankel lived a good and purposeful life; it just wasn’t long enough for those of us left behind.

Wherever she is right now, we believe and hope that this very creative and funny female is no longer struggling to breathe but is dancing thru a field of wildflowers, pausing to capture them on film, for she was a superb photographer, both for art’s sake and for families’.

She photographed family portraits - birthdays, parties, graduations, generational gatherings - of most of the local population. If you see family groups on walls in friends’ homes, you know who did them - Hankel style shining through all the different families. For years she was the choice of the county’s high schoolers for their senior pics - each portrait unique to the kid.

I worked with her a few summers as her schlepper for weddings throughout the county. She’s the only person I’d ever met who could line up a cast of thousands on an alter and get them all to look at her lens and smile. She had a power about her that was subtle; the crazier the wedding party, the quieter she became: soon, a large group of dressed-up hyper people was docile and agreeable under her soft-voiced guidance - where to stand, how to put their feet, what to do with their hands. She could have been a Hollywood director.

I knew Kathy a short time - about 15 years. I was the native who left and she was the newcomer who came to town and made Jefferson a better place because of her creativity, goodwill and pure joy of life. I believe she knew the folks of the entire county because wherever we went, everyone - teenager to old person - stopped her to say hello. She belonged to a dozen organizations and was active in them. She played bridge, she cooked fancy things for dinner club groups, she actively promoted art in Jefferson and was instrumental in starting a poetry group in Greene County. In 2014 she was honored as volunteer of the year; it could well have been of a decade or two.

Her art is startling. She could make an art doll out of a sewing machine drawer or an open book. She sculpted in clay and made weird-faced characters that she couldn’t give up because she fell in love with them; they became part of her decor, sitting around her house peering out with their mischievous faces. She also carved driftwood and made dolls out of paper bags preserved in bees wax. She painted large, flat art that hangs in her home and her garage. She collected the art of others, pleased to promote art she treasured from budding artists of all mediums from around the state.
Her sense of hilarity surfaced on any occasion. One time, a few of us planned to meet in Cooper for a homemade pie and ice cream event. Most of us were there, waiting for Diane Foster, who was bicycling from Jefferson. When she arrived, her calf gashed and bleeding from a fall off her bike, Kathy insisted on driving her to the hospital. While she waited for Diane to be fixed, Kathy casually appropriated a few purple surgical gloves, stuffing them in her bra.

When Kathy and Diane came back for the pie fest, Kathy took the gloves slowly out of her blouse, like she was a magician, and then started blowing them up. They bobbed around the picnic table, and quickly we all were blowing up surgical gloves for the pure fun of it. The next day Kathy looped the purple fingers of balloons on a long heavy string and hung them on the railing at the library with the notice -- “Art Attack.” The “attack” was moved from there to private front porches, where homeowners moved it along to unsuspecting friends. This was pure Kathy Hankel whimsy that involved everyone who came close to it.

Her endlessly creative ways extended to her poetry, some of the funniest stanzas we ever heard in our group. She always said she wasn’t much of a poet because she just couldn’t be serious. We knew she was a great poet because she took away our seriousness and made us smile.

I will leave you with this poem of hers that takes her brain cells to task in defense of an exhausted muse; it reveals to a world too mundane for the likes of a wild and creative mind like hers just how cool she was:

“Frustration” - by Kathy Hankel

You’re stuck deep in my head you naughty grey gnomes.
Stand up and advance. Evolve into poems!

You’re no use to me living inside my poor brain
You stubborn half-thoughts - you drive me insane.

Get up and get out and do it right now!
My muse is exhausted and doesn’t know how.

I’m thinking you’re useless, trite and mundane.
Da duh da da duh -- a slow movin’ train.

Thanks, Kathy.