Henry was something of an eternal presence for me...until now, of course. I'd go to a breakfast joint in Boulder in the 70s; there was Henry eating eggs and reading the paper. I'd go to Karma Dzong; there was Henry. In 1979, I made my first trip to San Francisco with Howie Kiein and we met up in a cafe with Henry. Every Shambhala Day in San Francisco, you'd find Henry holding forth with one or several of his stories about the old days with Trungpa Rinpoche, often with some salacious or fascinating detail I'd never heard before. Henry loved to dance. I found him rocking out by himself in clubs in SF during the 90s surrounded by people less than half his age. He said they looked at him with "What are you doing here, Pops?" in their eyes, then threw back his head with one of his almost-too-long gulping laughs. For the last couple of decades, I'd most reliably see Henry at Martha's Cafe here in SF where he went at couple of times a day to read the paper. Good ole Henry. One of those rare people that was utterly predictable and utterly surprising at the same time. Love to you wherever you are, probably reading the paper.