Memories of Hans:
-skiing anywhere there was snow with perfect form, determination and speed
-watching you garden while Sarah, Christoph and I would sit in your beautiful jacuzzi
-smiling whenever your wife or one of your children would walk into a room, speak, sleep, fart
-looooving your cigar, bowl of pretzels, g&t and coors in your living room (winter) or at the round table on the deck (summer)
-out for dinner at every cutting edge, five star restaurant - domestic and internationally, of course.
-driving us into the city for a museum, show, walk, shopping, concert, German school (any excuse for nyc would suffice)
-taking us into the admirals lounge at Swiss Air JFK, which in the 80's was limited to rock stars and heads of state. In classic Hans style, EVERYONE knew your name and stood at attention when you walked past.
-watching how bummed you got when the town car pulled into the driveway to whisk you off to the airport with all of your beloveds sitting around, pool side, having fun, bbq'ing on a sunday afternoon.
-grilling unknown sausages in state parks, fall foliage hikes, hayley's comet and star searches with your telescope (any excuse to be outside)
-how funny it struck you when American's: said "Les Miserables" or "Champs Elysee", ate pizza "American style"
-introducing new things and experiences to your children: bose (before bose was bose), how to properly enjoy a post meal cigar w brandy, how to communicate via whistle vs. yelling "dad!" like every other sucker at vernon valley, how you actually go faster if you stay in your lane vs. switching lanes multiple times, how to enjoy beautiful cape cod (beach in morning, bay in afternoon).
You are a class act, Hans. Love you dearly.
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