Joe Jenkins Zeenut & Rocky II wax pack - RIP Billy Hauser

[Kevin]

I entered Maria Regina in Seaford in 1978…probably December. I met Billy Hauser. We weren’t friends or best friends right away, but we did talk Islanders. As we got older we became super friendly. And then…it just sort of clicked in 8th grade. I spent 5 years with that guy. Hours and hours play Micro League baseball, speaking backwards, awkwardly trying to meet girls; playing “dowels” (a game we invented with a real thin dowel and practice golf balls.) Just hours doing nothing and just having a blast.

I started this eulogy a few days ago. It was too emotional to finish. I left it open and went about my weekend. Everywhere I turn, memories of my friend. I think about the hours and hours walking around the streets of Wantagh. Billy and I speaking backwards. Writing down all sorts of things that happened to us in a notebook we called “The Archives”. “Gotta write that down…” we’d say. And we did. Billy, I think the saddest part of this is that I have no one to share these jokes with any more.

I remember moving the Islander jerseys up front and hiding the Ranger jerseys from public view at Models. Remember when Uwe Krupp scored the goal for the Sabres in OT and the Isles squeaked into the playoffs! We watched that at the Coliseum on the Jumbotron!

I think I mourned the loss of our teenage friendship the way I mourned some breakups. Those were 5 strong years. It’s funny, we were never fully disconnected and you lived on my couch a few times for months on end. How about that bet we made when you were living in Tampa: “if the Lightning are in the finals, there is a Game 7, etc, I’ll fly down there and get us tickets to the game.” Stanley Cup Game 7 2004 Finals! Glad I lost that bet and hung with Hulu those few days.

I might have explained this here before: Joe Jenkins! “I swear on Joe Jenkins” was like an oath. You couldn’t be lying if you swore on Joe Jenkins. We played Micro League Baseball and we were trying to create the 1919 White Sox team on the Micro League General Managers disk. We had to fill out 25 spots. I think we came up with 23. Added Pat Ragan and then went player by player through the two Baseball Encyclopedias we had. We were over joyed to find Joe Jenkins. That must have been summer of 1988. Joe Jenkins, to this day, has been brought up almost every time we saw each other.

ThomasL read about our Joe Jenkins obsession and “gifted” me a card last spring. Xplain had an unopened Rocky II wax pack that I bought for you. Now I know we don’t see each other that often especially w COVID, but I had these waiting for you. I meant to send them during Christmas, but figured I’d wait. Then I got the call. I’m glad they are with you for eternity, Billy. I’ll love you forever, my friend.

(If anyone reading this has been to Hiram’s Hotdog Stand in Fort Lee, New Jersey over the last two years, Billy Hauser volunteered here. He was a stage hand by trade in the Local 1. Moved to Fort Lee and was attempting to wind down and work the Christmas season.)

A week before you died, I caught the tail end of Buffalo Stance by Nenah Cherry. I took a little video clip of it with my phone and at the end I said, “I love you, Billy Hauser…” You didn’t respond, but I hope you saw the clip.

So, those inside jokes/sayings we had? I’ll share this: “so how does it end?” We said that to each other for 35+ years that I sort of forgot where it came from. After the 2nd night of your wake, it clicked! It was the end of a Phil Collins video from the mid 80s that we liked. Phil Collins looks at the camera and asks “so how does it end?” several times. Welp, you win!

Billy, you were generous. You were a better friend to me than I was to you. You always said, “Take care of the help because the help will take care of you…” You tipped $40 on a $20 tab. I remember early in my career…you were already established at Lincoln Center, we went out and the bill came to $380. I had like $80 on me. You simply said, “don’t worry about it, Uncle Billys here”. That stuck with me. At your wake and the luncheon after your funeral, all of your friends told me the same thing. I’m glad you had someone like Mikey in your life, man. You guys were BFFs.

Before I sign off, I’ll come clean. The 1919 White Sox VS 1927 Yankees on Micro League that summer? You played the Yankees and went up 3-1 in our Best of 9 series. When you went home, I changed Shano Collins 6 doubles. I put a 2 in front of the 6 and he had 26 doubles on the season. When the Sox went up 4-3 in the series, I switched it back to 6 and the Yankees won (thankfully) in 9 games.

Man, so many more inside jokes. So many more stories. If I could pick a day to go back to? It wouldn’t be the recent versions of us. It would be the innocent times. Not the time you thought you were inheriting that 85 Mustang convertible! You drove that for a week until it got repossessed. I’d go back to one day walking around the Sunrise Mall. Watching you play the “memory game” and having a crowd of people surrounding you as you went about 50x into that machine!

How did I describe you when you were alive? “He’s my oldest friend…the friend I knew the longest. Known him since we were 5…”. “He’s the smartest , most intelligent person I know…” (it was true). “Funniest guy I know…”

Billy, I hope you are listening the Queen up there. Back in 2019, you were over and drinking Mikes Hard Lemonade. We threw on “A Night At The Opera”. Of course you knew all the words. You were a great singer. But what surprised me was this: you said you hadn’t listened to it since high school; since the late 80s or early 90s. That’s sort of when we split. I hadn’t listened to it either since then. I wonder if it was because of the memories. The innocence.

Miss you, Billy. One day I’ll see you again. As I said at your luncheon, I don’t believe in the afterlife, but right now I certainly want to. I want to see you again. I want to laugh with you again. If…if there is any sign…feel free to send one. I’ll be looking.