My Henry Meets Henry Winkler, Dyslexic Superhero

Last night, my 9-year-old son, Henry, and I went to hear Henry Winkler and Lin Oliver speak about their experiences as writers and their series, Here’s Hank and Hank Zipzer.

A little background on these incredible books: Hank is a young boy who discovers he’s dyslexic. Hank is amazing—smart, fun, outspoken, a bit of a clown and like most kids, a little self-doubting. He’s a superhero of sorts, one that speaks to all of us—not just children and adults with dyslexia. Hank is a lot like Henry Winkler, which is another reason he’s so awesome.

So here we are sitting in the Decatur Library at the Little Shop of Stories and Georgia Center for the Book event waiting to see these two authors and hear their stories. When the presentation started, my son Henry looked a little apprehensive. I could imagine him thinking, “These are two old people, what do they know about kids? Especially kids with dyslexia?” But the minute Henry Winkler started talking, my Henry settled into his seat and started laughing. He loved it—every minute.

From the description of Henry Winkler’s short, German parents, to his Fonzie stories, to the way he works with Lin Oliver, it was riveting and moving—every word. Yes, word. These words that sometimes look garbled, backwards or just plain wrong to my Henry and star of the series, hero Hank. As Henry Winkler spoke, I found myself reflecting on the words that describe kids who struggle with learning differences: stupid, slow, lazy. All of these powerful words were floating in our minds. Henry Winkler made us laugh, choke up, and most importantly, feel hopeful about the power we find in the words we choose.

When the speech was finished, Henry and I got our books and headed back to get them signed. There was an extraordinary line of people waiting (which Henry was far from jazzed about). I kept reassuring him that it would be worth the wait. “Don’t you want to meet him and have him sign your books? I mean, his name is Henry. You can’t beat that!” I exclaimed. “Ok, mom, is it our turn yet?” Henry asks about 30 times.

While in line, we met an old schoolmate of Henry’s whom had just recently learned he’s dyslexic. I could see on his parents’ faces that look that my husband and I had just a few short months ago. The look of loss. You’ve lost the image of life being easy for your child. You feel skeptical, hurt and angry. The good news is that these feelings are just a phase, and (it sounds so wrong but) you have to go through them before you get to the other side. The other side is where you see the power of this learning difference; the gifts it gives you and your child. “They’ll get there,” I think to myself. If I could only find the words that would make it easier for them in this moment.

While my head is swimming and Henry is fidgeting, we slowly move forward. Before we know it, we’re there. My Henry stands tall and strong and walks right up to the table.

Lin says, “So you are a Henry, too?” Henry Winkler chimes in, “Anyone ever call you Hank?” My Henry responds, “I was a 10-pound baby so they used to call me Hank the Tank.” We all chuckle, and I know I’m shining with pride. I love seeing my Henry with such confidence and power in his voice. Then I burst out, “We just recently found out Henry is dyslexic!” Henry Winkler stops what he’s doing and looks at my Henry, right in the eyes. He says, “You are amazing, don’t ever forget that—promise?” My Henry nods. “And you are smart, too. Just know that.” We both nod. I am totally choked up and trying not to wrap my arms around Henry Winkler and tell him that he’s my hero. The Henrys pause for a quick picture and then I freeze, not wanting to leave this moment.

My Henry pulls my arm and says, “Mom, come on, we need to go.” I wait, watching our friends get their books signed and snap a couple pictures. I then pull back the covers of Henry’s books to see what they’ve written. The first book, from Henry Winkler: Henry, you are so smart. The second: Henry, you are so powerful. Henry and I will hold onto these words forever. And I will remind him of his power and strength every day.