THE MEASURE OF A MAN

Not “How did he die”? But “How did he live?”
Not “What did he gain?” But “What did he give?”
Not “What was his station?” But “Had he a heart?”
And “How did he play his God-given part?”

Denis Wilmott Hansen (1933 – 2013) was a physically big man.  Even at 80 years of age and slightly stooped he towered over other men.  The papers and TV talk of his mahi from penal reform to health promotion, his fame as both a player for the Kiwis in the 1950s and later as a Māori All Black.  But we who knew him talk about his crack-up humour, his genuine humility and his honest heart.

 

Whenever I hear someone claim to have the common touch, I measure them against Denis.  “I’m a very important man,” he’d say by way of introduction, “Just ask me, and I’ll tell you.”  But the truth is, he was always genuinely amazed when strangers greeted him by name.    

 

Denis had no skeletons in the closet, because he regularly took them out and set them dancing in the middle of the floor for the entertainment of all.  But, if you were capable of seeing deeper than the surface fun to the core truth of one of his stories, then you would also be edified.

 

When my mokopuna first met him he’d had a stroke a few years before and the oldest blurted out, “Your face is crooked.”  He roared with laughter then told them, “God gave me this crooked face to help me see around corners.”  They understood.  Ko nga kokona o te whare ka kitea, ay Papa Den?  Ae, tika tau moko.  Engari ko nga kokona o te ngakau e kore e kitea, haungā ia ki Te Atua.

Not “What was his shrine? Nor “What was his creed?”
But “Had he befriended those really in need?”
Not “What did the piece in the newspaper say?”
But “How many were sorry when he passed away?”

Denis did more than see into the corners of human hearts, he acted.  A barefooted patient would suddenly find a new pair of slippers in their locker, delivered by the world’s biggest elf.  A perpetrator would be kindly told to stop perpetrating, or Papa Den would tickle his bum-bum with his boot.  A complete stranger would be serenaded with an appropriate song prompted by a key word.

 

Was he ever ready with a word or good cheer,
To bring back a smile, to banish a tear?
These are the units to measure the worth
of a man as a man, regardless of birth.

 

Yesterday we laid the body of a big man to rest beside that of his beloved mother in their native soil.  Today his legacy lives on in his uri and all who were blessed to know the measure of the man.  Haere atu ra e te rangatira Denis. He totara nui o tana iwi hapū.  Ka aroha ki te whānau pani.