Thank You Henry.

If I only had two words to describe what it was like to grow up in Port Washington, I would say: Henry Stanziale. 

Man, did I adore Henry. Everyone did. Henry brought live music and so much fun into my life from an early age. He was—hands down—the coolest kid in high school: star lax player, the best musician, the most fun, SO CUTE, and so nice to everyone. He was truly a creative genius, and I got to be one of his companions on this ride. 

Henry was the guy who got everyone together and created the games for us all to play. As Rich just said to me, “Henry created the games, and you were his muse,” because I was right there creating the games with him. Anyone remember our Wheel of Fortune using his backyard table umbrella as the wheel? 

“The Club” or "Club Stanz" was the name of the Stanziale basement, where we basically lived. Every Wednesday, I’d rush there for 90210/Melrose. Thursday was “Must See TV” at the Club. At Christmastime, Henry loved showing us his elaborate trains—and his own (original) CK5 light rig. We’d all play music together. “Nikki Z, you’re on tambourine.”

Henry was so damn talented. Here’s a fun fact: my love for Phish came from Henry. The Stanz brothers started what must have been the first-ever Phish cover band in the ‘90s called Stash. They played all the time, and they were so damn good. Henry was Trey—the frontman guitarist (but not the lead singer). He had that same nod and smile while he jammed the hell out of songs. Stash would pack out The Wetlands regularly, and Fishman even sat in with them in Syracuse once.

Our town was so uniquely tight because we had all we needed: places to go, friends who loved being together, our own great band to entertain us, and the deepest entourage to hit the road and see Phish whenever possible. We were literally spending our time seeing Stash or Phish—we knew every lick to every song in the ‘90s—and clearly, still do. Henry and I were just texting about Phish’s latest album. We both love the songs Monsters and Valdez, and just the fact that 40 years later, they continue to deliver amazing new material.

Henry followed his passion, becoming a music teacher and leading an elementary school chorus. What lucky kids to be taught and led by Henry. I loved seeing videos of Henry’s chorus, with the harmonies, the lights! I had flashbacks to our harmonies that Henry orchestrated in the Club. “Nikki Z, you do this part.” He never made fun of me for singing out of key.

Stash evolved into an original band, Cousin Fungus. They were great, and being able to see them up until about four years ago was such a tremendous treat. It was always a reunion and a reminder of how talented our friends are. That was around the time Henry got sick—such a complicated sickness, and the battle was so much. He underwent so many heart surgeries and wasn’t able to do all the things he loved. I prayed so hard he would get better. I even asked my friends who don’t know him (but I know they would love him) to please pray for him. 

These past few years, at every Phish show I went to, when the band played Stash, I’d take a video and immediately send it to Henry with the same text: “Why I Phish.” He always wrote back, saying he was watching the show, and then usually shared his theory on the setlist. A few weeks ago, when Phish played Stash at the benefit show in Albany, I sent Henry a clip with the same text. He didn’t reply this time.

Yesterday morning, Henry passed away. He fought this complicated sickness so hard, but the fight is over. I wish I had seen him over the past few years. We talked about it but didn’t do it. I regret that so much now. I said we’d drive out to him to stream a show together one of these days, or if he could, he would come to us. He’d always say such encouraging things about the work I’m doing for Josie. He’d reach out during hard times. We’d always send each other positive, encouraging texts.

I’ll always think about the days at “The Club,” with Henry orchestrating the fun. He curated such a unique, tight-knit, creative crew that I will always be grateful for. I’m pretty sure Henry first named me Nikki Z. Everyone had a nickname in P-dubs, and Hank (or Haaaank) was responsible for most of them! Whenever I can’t remember something about those days, I ask Henry. He had such a great memory for things—like who we were at shows with, who drove, where we stayed, what funny things happened. Like the time we saw Phish Gamehenge in ’94, and Mimi Fishman intercepted our pizza from our hotel lobby, then brought it to our room, and then Fishman knocked on our door looking for his mom, and we all hung out. That’s just one.

I’ve been crying non-stop. I’m just so sad for everyone who loved Henry—his beautiful, talented daughter Vivi, whom he loved the most; his brothers, who were the greatest example of brotherhood; his mom, who was a mom to all of us growing up; all of his friends. But mostly, I’m sad for Henry, who was so vibrant, amazing, and deserved to live healthy and to be shredding the guitar with that giant smile on his face, and dancing free to the music he loved all these years.

Life is so precious, and this is a reminder to tell the people you are thankful for all these things while they’re here. Hank, you will be missed and cherished forever and always. Thank you for bringing so much joy into my life.

I love you, my friend.

Nikki Z.

Henry was adamant about creating this home studio, to record Monday Night Fungus Streams. Like Trey, he kept delivering music. Aren't we lucky we can watch hours and hours of his smile and mad talent forever. 

I remember taking this photo of the band playing at Prime Cuts, the LI store where we would buy shows on tape. 

In Montauk with Chris "Boch" 

At my FOXG1 Research Foundation event with my best friend, Farra. 

                                          Cousin Fungus opening for Pink Taking Fish in 2019.

                                                         Cousin Fungus at LaMottas in 2019. 

               Your smile and kindness and passion will never be forgotten.  Thank you.