In Memory
A son’s remembrance…
Beth Langhoff
No monuments will be named for her, nor no holidays declared, but this was the sort of life that makes the world work. This was a person who could always be counted on, and did the work that needed to be done.
Bethayne Virgene Fredstrom was born in Oakland, Nebraska on March 19, 1931, the middle child of Martin & Lillian (Erickson) Fredstrom. The family relocated to California during the Great Depression, settling in Turlock. There she spent her childhood years (albeit moving frequently during early, rough days) with elder brother Fred and younger sister Lois.
Hers was an accomplished mind. Having attained a degree from UC Berkeley (in spite of much hardship), and worked in a library in San Luis Obispo, she enjoyed a wide variety of people and relished discussing big ideas. She read all of C.S. Lewis, for instance, long before he became popular. She loved a book or an outing that would give her mental grist to ponder for days.
She was rarely in a position to do dramatic, material things—indeed, she came as close as anyone I’ve known to living the parable of the widow’s mite. But she gave all of herself, and often, in subtle but meaningful ways; this life, in its own way, affected many.
First and foremost to me, of course, she was Mom: my prime source of guidance, comfort, and wisdom. Most importantly, she was always there; a quality that cannot be underestimated. She fiercely defended her children, always doing the best she could and then some; she inspired devotion in return.
She made Home a place of nurture and solace—not to mention good food. At times, she must have wondered at the numbers of people who wandered in and out of that home (especially at meal times) but she welcomed all.
She taught as much by example as anything. From her I learned you could always do one more hard job, give just one more piece of yourself. Her ability to empathize, and listen, earned her many friends of many kinds.
She could be a remarkably emotional person, even if her Swedish acculturation wouldn’t always let it get to her face. There was nothing she was more excited about than her Faith. As a rare form of muscular dystrophy started debilitating her in adult life, she threw herself with renewed vigor into her religious studies, leading classes and discussions as long as she was able. Emanuel Lutheran Church of Modesto CA was home and family.
As her body let her down, there was always a new indignity to suffer, or pleasure taken away. She could count blessings with the best of them, however; she rallied and coped time after time. I know there were hours of despair, but she always found a way through them.
I had the unique opportunity of talking with her as an adult (as much as that could be between mother and son) for many years. There was nothing wrong with her mind; just a short while before her passing, for instance, we had fun discussing some “new” findings on ancient Etruscans (no doubt inspired by something we saw on PBS), which reminded her of History classes fifty years earlier.
I never knew her to be wistful about the past; indeed, she was eager for the life to come. While none of us foresaw the end coming when it did, she was able to stay reasonably independent in her beloved house.
The indignities are over. One last hard job has been done.
— Dan Langhoff
Beth was not much for getting within camera range. However, here are a few representative snaps from various eras of her life (sorry, Mom…).
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