Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest
Fred Foster
It’s hard to believe that it’s been nearly three weeks since Fred Foster passed away, harder still to imagine a world without him. He looms large in the early narrative of my life, I knew him for longer than it’s possible to remember. My mom has been friends with his wife since they were kids.
Fred was gentle, sweet thoughtful, and funny. He was a police officer in Oakland during the crazy days of the 60s and 70s. He never lost his sense of humor or his sense of duty, even when, as a police officer, Oakland was a scary place to work. He once pulled over a man whose name was Donald Duck and he used to tell the tale of a woman who, unable to pass a standard intoxication test, said to Fred, “If I can walk down the street on my hands will you let me go?” True to his word she worked her way out of a ticket and got a ride home by walking down the street in a straight line on her hands.
I grew up with Fred’s daughter Lorraine, my brother grew up with her younger brother Freddie, although the reality is that we all grew up together, like a large extended family. Fred and his wife Diana lost both Lorraine and Freddie to cancer. As a parent I can’t begin to fathom the depth of sorrow that must have been a part of the undercurrent of his life. I remain amazed that he never became bitter, never hated his God, never lost his faith.
Fred was a husband to his wife and a father to his grandson. He was a man among men, a giant among giants, and gracious when grace was not due. The world has lost one of its better angels, and as a result we have become the worse for our loss.
