Elsie Fredrickson
Mar 19th 1912 - Nov 18th 2009
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Kay Fedo Rasmusson
November 21st 2009
My parents were friends of Elsie and Carl Fredrickson for over 65 years. The friendship started as neighbors and stood the test of time and distance as both couples moved from the neighborhood, the state and back again. I remember Elsie coming over to our house when I was a little girl to have coffee with my mom. I was told that she held me for many hours. Sometimes I was sent across the street to be watched by Elsie when my mom was out of the house. Elsie and my mother volunteered every week at St. Mary's Hospital, delivering flowers to patients. Sometimes when I was home visiting, I would pick them up at St. Mary's and they would talk and talk on the ride home. Sometimes they talked about the hospital and other times about their lives when they were young. I kept in some contact with Carl and Elsie throughout my adult life and have many fond memories of visiting with them until they moved from Duluth to St. Johns. My favorite story about Elsie has been told my by mother and Elsie many times- when my brother and Elsie's son, Jimmy, were young, they were told never to go to the creek a couple of blocks from their houses. One day, the boys were gone for quite a while and Elsie and my mom went looking for them and found them at the creek. Elsie told them that she and mom had called the police because they couldn't find them, hoping to put a good scare into them. My brother, wide eyed, wanted to know if they had really called the police, and said to Jimmy "ask my mom, she don't lie". Well, my mom couldn't very well lie after that, so she said they really hadn't called the police, but they were pretty close to doing it. Elsie always complained "Sure, she couldn't just tell a little lie that one time!" We all always got a great laugh about it.
My parents both suffer from dementia and are in their 90's, but when I told them that Elsie had passed away, my father immediately said "Oh no, we knew her for years and years", so even the ravages of dementia couldn't take those memories away.
Kay Fedo Rasmusson
November 21st 2009
My parents were friends of Elsie and Carl Fredrickson for over 65 years. The friendship started as neighbors and stood the test of time and distance as both couples moved from the neighborhood, the state and back again. I remember Elsie coming over to our house when I was a little girl to have coffee with my mom. I was told that she held me for many hours. Sometimes I was sent across the street to be watched by Elsie when my mom was out of the house. Elsie and my mother volunteered every week at St. Mary's Hospital, delivering flowers to patients. Sometimes when I was home visiting, I would pick them up at St. Mary's and they would talk and talk on the ride home. Sometimes they talked about the hospital and other times about their lives when they were young. I kept in some contact with Carl and Elsie throughout my adult life and have many fond memories of visiting with them until they moved from Duluth to St. Johns. My favorite story about Elsie has been told my by mother and Elsie many times- when my brother and Elsie's son, Jimmy, were young, they were told never to go to the creek a couple of blocks from their houses. One day, the boys were gone for quite a while and Elsie and my mom went looking for them and found them at the creek. Elsie told them that she and mom had called the police because they couldn't find them, hoping to put a good scare into them. My brother, wide eyed, wanted to know if they had really called the police, and said to Jimmy "ask my mom, she don't lie". Well, my mom couldn't very well lie after that, so she said they really hadn't called the police, but they were pretty close to doing it. Elsie always complained "Sure, she couldn't just tell a little lie that one time!" We all always got a great laugh about it.
My parents both suffer from dementia and are in their 90's, but when I told them that Elsie had passed away, my father immediately said "Oh no, we knew her for years and years", so even the ravages of dementia couldn't take those memories away.
