Reflections of . . . .

I'm almost certain that today would have been Karen Fredstrom's 67th birthday.  She lived only through her sophomore year in high school, but her memory has lived on in the minds of the rest of her classmates all these years later, especially those of us who attended Lincoln Elementary School.

One summer Saturday night in June, 1963, Karen was tragically killed in a car accident near the old A & W Root Beer Stand, now Schweitzer Conoco.

Her cousin also died in the accident.

Karen's death was the first experience of losing someone so close for most of her classmates.  It was difficult, to say the least.

Her funeral at First Lutheran Church was well attended by teens and a saddened community of friends of her parents, Arbie and Frances. 

Since that time in 1963, she has slept in eternal peace at Lakeview Cemetery on South Division Street.  

I can remember one night a couple of years after her death when a group of us who were attending a slumber party at a classmate's house rode our bikes to the cemetery to visit Karen's grave. 

Our visit was a somber one in the midst of an evening filled with pranks and good times. 

Our lives moved on, but still more than 50 years later, we remember Karen, forever young.  

In my mind, I recall her brown hair and glasses and soft complexion and her smile. My most vivid image of Karen has her wearing her poodle skirt and saddle shoes.  

She also wore black patent shoes occasionally---quite a contrast from the forever skuffed up and open-air clodhoppers with talking soles that I, with ever-growing feet, had to wear. 

Still, our fashion differences did not deter our friendship.  We Stinkin' Lincoln kids had a bond, and we maintained it to a degree, long after our group moved on, eventually blending into a high school graduating class of 1965 with the kids from Farmin, Washington and the outlying elementary schools of Colburn, Northside, Southside, Sagle and Hope.

I was looking for a picture of Karen this morning. I know I have one somewhere around this house in a box. With luck, I'll run across it one of these years.

One batch of goodies from yesteryear, where I thought I would find Karen's photo, is temporarily scattered across Annie's bed.  

At last, today I must get a box for that mixture of certificates, letters from important officials (like the county agent telling me I won a judging contest) and assorted sizes and qualities of photos.  

For years and years, the conglomeration has been stored in a big plastic bag with a hole in the bottom. So, I've picked up the entire pile from the floor a time or two. 

While sorting through the disorganized mess this morning, I found a picture of Shirley Beasley, who also started out with us at Lincoln School but moved away before graduation.  

Nowadays, she lives in Mississippi and I hear from her occasionally and have included her on a class group page for our upcoming 50th-year reunion.

I also found Steve Strecker, our class valedictorian and president who moved on to a career as an engineer.  I used to sit at the same table as Steve every morning in the SHS cafeteria.  We were always good friends, and I've enjoyed reconnecting with him at reunion. 

Then, I found the photo of Homecoming 1964 for the Class of 1965.  It portrays a rarity---Marianne not wearing jeans.  Of course, we could not wear jeans or slacks or, Lord forbid, shorts back in those days. 

So, I primped up for Homecoming with my green tweed suit.  I got to participate in the crowning ceremony by default (like most of the great opportunities of my life back then).  
Usually the president of Pep Club participated, but since Diana Arnold was part of the royalty court, I stepped in.  

Gary Johnson was our ASB vice president at the time, and since the president Jim Miller was playing football, Gary probably played the default role too.

The queen that year was lovely Joan Andrews, escorted by another Gary, as in Dunham. 

As a Pep Club officer I helped count the votes in the office with Mr. Sodorff and knew who the queen was before the presentation.  I could not keep this news a secret from my friends who had gathered for dinner at Susan Bergstrom's house before the game.

So, I told them and then instructed them to YELL REALLY LOUD and to be sure to act surprised, lest I get in trouble for not adhering to my gag order.  

They did not disappoint; actually everyone yelled really loud that night, as we always did for our athletic events and special moments. 

Of course, little kids known to the organization committee, got to participate at the time. In this case, Andrea Venishnick's little sister Hildy carried the crown on that pretty satin pillow. 

Sadly, Andrea passed away earlier this year.  Last I heard, her sister Hildy teaches in Arizona. 

Even if this Oct. 3 Friday is not correct as Karen Fredstrom's birthday, I still think of her on this date every year, just as I will continue to think of Andrea on May 10 until the day I die. 

These people all played a part in the tapestry of my life, and because of that, they remain important.  I love moments when their faces come up in my memory bank, triggering thoughts of those treasured moments when their presence here on Earth enriched my life. 

Never forgotten. 

Happy Friday.