I don’t remember when or  where  I first met Hank Carr. It may have been when he was the transfer station attendant. Hank was always ready to tell an amusing story or wanted to share a laugh. He had such an engaging and sunny disposition that I’m now left with the impression I had known him my whole life.
 
Hank died peacefully in his sleep at his home in Acworth on February 3, 2008. He was 76.

Hank had been living with cancer the last few years of his life.  He underwent extensive treatment, including surgery and chemotherapy, for his cancer but never lost his sense of humor and never looked or acted like he was terminally ill. He flirted and joked with the nurses whenever he went for chemo treatments. Even though doctors had given Hank only four months to live when they first diagnosed his liver cancer, he proved them wrong by living for almost three years.

Hank also cheated death at the beginning of his life. He was the youngest of thirteen children and was born with pneumonia. Worried about his health when he was a baby, Hank’s mother would put him in the warming oven in the kitchen to keep him from getting chilled.  When he was an infant Hank’s parents were afraid he was going to die, so they didn’t give him a name until he was two years old. On his birth certificate, and the name people called him during his first two years, was "Baby Carr".

When Hank was finally given a name it was Austin.  He never liked the name Austin because he was teased so much about it when he was a kid. 

Hank was born and raised on a farm in Tiverton, Rhode Island. He learned many skills on the family farm such as gardening, tending animals and carpentry.
 
Hank served in the Army during the Korean War. After he was discharged he returned to Rhode Island and became a master plumber and heating technician.

In 1967 Hank moved to Keene, NH with his wife, one son and three daughters. He worked for the city of Keene in the Parks, Recreation and Cemeteries department for more than 25 years.

After Hank retired he moved to Acworth with his second wife, Rosalie, where he lived for the last fifteen years of his life.

During the last summer of his life, when he was at home between chemo treatments, Hank decided to do something about the burgeoning squirrel population on his property. He set out Have-a-Heart traps to catch the bushy-tailed rodents and then drove them to a cemetery in Claremont to set them free.

One of Hank’s notable legacies is that the city of Claremont now has to contend with his displaced squirrel population.