Birth date: Feb 11, 1931 Death date: Jan 29, 2021
Leon Hines, of Burlington, NJ, passed away peacefully on January 29, 2021 with his family by his side. Loving husband of Elizabeth “Betty” Hines for 26 years. Devoted father to Robert Glenn (Evie), Janine Hoffman (James), the late Read Obituary
I lacked the courage to stand up and say this at dad’s memorial. So I’ll post it instead.
Wisdom imparted to me by dad:
1. Westerns are the best movie genre ever! Even the bad ones. Watch as many as you can!
2. Never be a guest for too long. Guests and fish have the same in common. After 3 days, they both start to stink.
3. Yodel when you’re happy. I wish I could do that! He was the best yodeler!!
4. Fish as often as you can! He certainly lived by that rule. He’ll always be the greatest fisherman I have ever known!
5. Eat cookies for breakfast. And lunch and dinner if you can get away with it.
6. Take care of the people around you. Serve your neighbors and friends.
7. Take good care of your animals. He loved his puppies so well.
8. Love your family!!!!
9. Spoil your grandchildren and great grand children.
And last but certainly not least
10. Adore your spouse! Both he and Betty are true examples of that.
If I can remember to do half of the things on this list I will consider myself my father’s daughter!!
Love you chunny chunny whole lots dad!!
Throughout that lovely service I heard a lot of people call him something I hadn't heard before: Grandpa Lee. It suits him of course, that is his name, but it struck me immediately. To me, he was Pop-pop. And while everyone I encounter knows me as Andrew, to Pop-pop, I was Andy. "His Andy" as I said on the phone as a kid (something my mom Janine reminds me of frequently). I wish I had more memories of me and Pop-pop from my childhood. Our family moved south when I was 5 years old and though we have the pictures to prove otherwise, I didn't feel like I saw too much of Pop-pop and Grandma after that. I have memories of small moments, still pictures in my head of his smile and big hands. I have some very vivid memories of being on boats, of him giving me my first woodworking kit and teaching me how to use it. Of the plane he made me and the Hess trucks he would buy for Christmas, he'd tell me about the parts of the trucks and the names and different types. To this day they're still just "trucks" when I see them, despite his best attempts at teaching me. I remember always feeling slightly intimidated by his size and his voice, that Pop-pop was the biggest, strongest man alive, and I was so happy he had my back and was on my side.
As time went on and I got older, the visits became less frequent. I was playing sports and music and taking time to travel to Jersey wasn't as easy as it once was. Pop-pop and Grandma were getting older too, so the drive to Georgia wasn't doable after a while, and we all know Pop-pop doesn't get on no planes! But with the infrequency of time together came a much stronger appreciation for whatever time we did spend with one another. With each trip I paid more and more attention to the stories, to the cadence of his speech and the timbre of his voice. I watched myself get bigger and Pop-pop suddenly looking smaller, but no less strong. I don't think I'll ever forget the sound of his laugh. Every minute was a joy. Infrequent, but memorable, powerful, and important.
The last time I got to see Pop-pop was a few years ago now. We attended a wedding in Jersey for a family member on my dad's side of the family, and luckily we got to go see Pop-pop and Grandma before hopping on a flight back home. We got to their house early (well, to me. They had been up since about 5 apparently) and we talked and laughed, ate lunch, and reminisced. I watched Pop-pop down seemingly endless amounts of sugar in the forms of cookies, candies, and Turkey Hill ice cream. There wasn't a vegetable to be found on that man's plate. Talk about living life to the fullest!
We went outside to take pictures. unbeknownst to any of us, the last picture I'd stand in with him. His arm around my waist and mine around his shoulder, I realized I had a foot of height on this larger-than-life man. But he squeezed me in so close I thought my rib would break. No less strong and no less loving than he had always been. He laughed and said we looked like twins.
Before we got in the car to leave we said one last goodbye with a promise to come up and visit soon. He gave me a big hug and actually started to cry a bit. I had no idea why, and I still don't. But he smiled. And he laughed. And the last thing he said to me was "alright Andy, be good. I love yuz". I can't think of a better final word to hear.
So Pop-pop, be good. And keep laughing. I love yuz
-Andrew Hoffman
In the beginning Leon was the father of my best friend Jimmy but he soon became much more than that. Lee would make Jimmy do different chores so to get done faster I would help Jim. After the first time it was no longer an option Lee would say "what are you standing there for get over there and help him."
One day I went to see Jim and Lee was in the garage working. I asked for Jim and Lee said he is not here. I didn't know where to go so I just stood there. Lee said maybe you didn't understand me Jimmy won't be home for a while. Then he turned around and said if you are going to stay here you are going to work. I don't know if he knew it but that was music to my ears.
My feeling of joy was inhanced shortly thereafter one day when I knocked on the door. Lee opened the door and in his stern serious voice said I sick and tired of getting up from my comfortable chair to answer the door for you. I don't lock my door so when you want to come into my house just walk in like my other kids do.
Lee would make us clean his work truck. The back would be full of dirt and busted concrete. He would always say the same thing "when you're done I want it looking brand new like it did the day I bought it". I once told him "it's a work truck". He said I don't care when I pull onto a jobsite I want everybody to stop what they are doing and say thats the prettest work truck I ever saw. To him every truck he owned was the best truck in the world.
One day Jim and I patched the leaks in an old heavy wooden row boat we found, put it on a small trailer and pushed it by hand down to the river. After several hours of rowing around Burlington Island we were exhausted. It was now low tide and as we were beginning to pull the boat up the rocky bank were heard a horn. It was Lee in his truck. We said we will pull the boat up to the road so you can take it on your truck. He said no MY truck can back down to the waters edge and pick it up. I said you will get stuck. He said not my truck. He got stuck. Without hesitation he took out a sledge hammer from his tool box, busted the boat apart and put the sides under the truck for traction. It did't work. The tide was comming in and was now at the rear wheels.
He told said to me "you're the fastest so run to the gas station and tell them to bring the big tow truck." Run all the way (about a mile) you better not stop if water makes it inside my doors, you're in big trouble. I didn't stop and they got the truck out just as the water reached the doors. We watched the pieces of our boat float away and never said a single word about it.
One day there was a car (a Metro) in front of the house. Lee had towed it home. He looked at us and said if you boys can get that started you can drive it in the fields. We knew nothing about cars but we got it started. It was great until one day Jimmy hit an abandoned railroad tie and flipped the car. His mom said thats it no more cars. Lee just said "you alright" "did you learn anything". Soon there was another car in front of the house. Over the years there must have been 8 or 10 cars. I wish I had some of them today but they all left us for the same destination, the junkyard.
Lee took me hunting and taught me how to be safe. He taught me the value of hard work. He taught me how to work smart. He told me there is a tool for everthing you need to do and if there isn't make one. Who I am today is largely a result of the relationship I had with Lee.
About 8 or 10 years ago I was visiting New Jersey and decided I needed to tell him what he meant to me. I was riding a motorcycle and pulled up in from of his house. He was walking out of his garage with tools in both hands. He didn't recognize me at first and asked, what do you want, I'm busy. I told him who I was and everything I wanted to say about how he influenced my life. At first he didn't say anything then he said Thanks you make me feel kinda proud.
My condolences to his family and friends.
