I believe this to be the fourth toughest day of my life. First Daddy, then Bonnie, Mother, and now Freida. I know I will miss Freida very much, but at least she is getting to enjoy Mother and Daddy and Bonnie again.

I remember my cousin Frieda as a lot of fun. She always had a sweet smile. I hate that I haven't seen her for a long time & that's a shame. My prayers go out to her family.

Freida always called me "Lynnie" and was one of the few people who still called me by my nickname.  I always felt like she treated me special.  When I was 3 or 4 years old, Freida bought me a "store-bought" hoop petticoat.  I was so happy with my new petticoat that I put it on and went outside on the steps of the house in the front yard so everyone could see.  Of course, when you sit on a hoop, you know what it does--It stands straight up.  Mother caught me and made me come back into the house.  I have many treasures in my home made by Freida with her own hands and her snow babies have decorated our Christmas tree for many years.  Loved her dearly.

Freida was so smart.  I could always depend on a down-to-earth answer for anything for which I needed help.  I shall always treasure the ceramic snow babies she made that are so magnificently detailed.  I shall miss my sister tremendously.

The following was composed in the early morning of 16 January by my daughter Ashley, one who loved her grandmother very, very much:

On the 15 of January 2011, my grandmother went into pulmonary distress and could not be revived. She passed away quite unexpectedly at the age of 78. Hospitalized as though she was, we all believed she would soon be home, but such was not the case. For reasons both cathartic and didactic, I am sharing my knowledge and memory of this woman.
 
If the word “grandmother” creates in your mind the image of a fluffy, muumuu-wearing, white-haired lady, cast that aside immediately. The woman I called “grandmama” was 4’11,” and never weighed more than 100 pounds, with a sturdy set of brunette curls. My grandmother might not be round, lavender-scented, and gray-haired, but she loved. She loved fiercely. She was stubborn, feisty, and incorrigible until her untimely end. Born in Trenton, Texas on 27 January 1932, one of ten children, her Depression-era childhood was not what one would call “happy” by today’s standards. The beauty of her large family and her small town, she was sought by many a gentleman caller. She later had four children, one of whom was my father, who should have died, from birth or from childhood asthma if not for the painstaking interventions of his mother. These are things I know.
 
These are things I remember. My entire life, my grandmother lived in the same house, with the same yellow-brown shag carpet and fabulous sixties earth-tone wallpapers. She would be awake by 4.30am, ready to read the paper, do the crossword, and drink real coffee (decaf is not good for you). Granddad would emerge by 5.00am, greet her with a “Hello, lover,” and proceed to get a hug and some “sugar,” as he always said.  I remember her plum jam and cherry pie before that time five years ago when her heart doctor told her that if she didn’t omit cholesterol from her diet, she would die. At that point my grandmother became a vegetarian with me, but she stopped cooking like she used to. I also remember going to her favorite ceramic molds shop, where Kate and I were told to pick whatever mold we wanted, after which she would fire up the kiln and we would sit in her makeshift garage studio and paint away (but never the eyes, Grandmama always did the eyes because they were so difficult). She was an excellent ceramist, a creator. She was also a collector—U.S. coins, porcelain dolls, obscure patterns of china, and films. Grandmama always had the fun movies, and would set one up for us on the VCR while she played Tetris on original Nintendo in the kitchen until Dr. Laura came on the radio.
 
From my early childhood, it was obvious how similar in temperament and in personality we were.  One sleepover night while watching TV, she asked if we wanted to watch the program “nine-eleven.” I said, “It’s called 9-1-1.” I distinctly recall her reply: “No, I said nine-eleven, and I don’t like being corrected by a ten year-old.” Another time, I had too much fun in the bath and displaced so much water that soon my bathwater traveled several feet beyond the bathroom to her kitchen floor. Understandably so, she did yell at me. Having never heard her speak so harshly to me, I burst into tears and hid in the guest bedroom. She felt so bad about making me cry that I had TWO Flintstones ice cream push pops after dinner! From her I get my temper, but also my sensitivity. The older I grew, the more we talked, and the more I learned of her past and that of my father. Later on, she attended my high school graduation even though her fragrance allergies were so severe that she knew she would be sick for weeks after. Still she came. She braved the perfumed crowds again some years later for my wedding. I knew without a doubt that she was proud of me. I will dedicate my Ph.D dissertation to her, you can be sure.
 
I don’t think she knew, though, how much of an example she was for me. Take the treatment of telemarketers, for instance. The first time I heard a real, live swear word was from my grandmother. She firmly told a telemarketer, ‘No, I don’t want your damn program, and I don’t want you calling here anymore.’ I was in awe. With her I also tasted my first margarita. (For those of you are tsk-tsking this un-grandmotherly behavior, get off yourself and calm down. At least she was genuine.) From her I learned to stand up for myself. She loathed the National Football League and the general male response to it; from her I learned to formulate opinions and proclaim them loudly. I spent more than a few Sunday afternoons with her in the kitchen while everyone else watched the football. Family was so important to her as well—she spoke with her mother and her many brothers and sisters regularly, and helped keep track of their contact information for everyone else. From her and my father, I, who can be quite socially lazy, learned (and am still learning) the importance of “blood.” She was so determined; once she set her mind toward something, well, good luck changing it. To me, these traits are not negative; they combined to create a fierce (albeit very small) woman.
 
Her mother and her sisters called her “high-strung.” Some people think stubbornness, a strong-willed temper, and opinionated-ness to be undesirable characteristics. I, for one, am very proud to have inherited her stubborn, feisty, incorrigibility. I wear these adjectives proudly. So when people shake their heads at my stubborn and feisty tendencies, I easily smile and say I am like my grandmother, Frieda Ann Golden Harbers.
 
There is a new emptiness in the Harbers family today, and a new emptiness in my heart.

My love for Ann runs deep as my tears flow as I am writing these words. She was always there for my family. She was the best Mother in Law any man could ask for, even though she told Rene' on the evening I proposed to say NO to anything I asked. I will miss her loving smile and kiss that I would always recieve when I entered her home.
She will be deeply missed.

Aunt Frieda was a wonderful lady who loved her family.  She will be greatly missed.  Love and prayers to all....

How can I express my love for my sister?  She will be greatly missed!

I am saddened to hear of the loss of my cousin, Freida.  She loved to visit my parents as a child and we played together.  It has been many years, but still I am sad.  My prayers and sincere sympathies to her family, especially her brothers and sisters, whom I love.
Carra Beth (Golden) Holton

I have so many wonderful, special, and fun memories of Aunt Freida, especially back when we both managed video stores together.  We talked, met constantly, and laughed a lot!  She was there for me in so many ways.  I love her so much.

I have fond memories of my Aunt Freida and have had long discussions in the past particularly about dieting and me moving away from my Mother which she was very upset about and expressed very well to me =) What a great lady, a lot like my sweet Grandfather and Grandmother. She always seemed very strong, tough, and loving all at the same time. I hope her memory stays alive within you all. Time will heal. Look up, and think about who she is with.

 God Bless- Love- Melanie, Shawn, Ashleigh, and Ava Knight of Mooresville,NC

We never wondered what Freida was thinking!  I guess it runs in the Family. She will be missed.

OBITUARIO

Freida Ann Harbers

27 enero, 1932 – 15 enero, 2011

Moore Funeral Home & Memorial Gardens

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