Kraeer Funeral Home and Cremation Center

1 North State Road 7, Margate, FL


Frederick Dean Herr

October 13, 1938September 22, 2019
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Frederick Dean Herr was born on October 13, 1938 and passed away on September 22, 2019.


  • Visitation Saturday, September 28, 2019
  • Funeral Service Saturday, September 28, 2019


Frederick Dean Herr

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joe anderson

October 4, 2019

For Uncle Fred, we used to go fishing off the charter boats at Captree on Long Island. One of my favorite childhood memories with my Dad, and he was always there with us. Eating cold cooked chicken legs and wings and throwing the bones to the seagulls who would scarf them down.

My Dad would take us to his place when we were kids and I remember watching one of his kids' (Jimmy?) iguana pee on my brother in-law many years ago. It was like a fire hose with no nozzle to turn off.

He and my Aunt Anne moved to Florida about the same time as my parents back in '00. They lived across the lake from each other so we could wave at them when we saw them outside.
As he aged, he always worked out and was still jacked while in his 70's.

Always pleasant and had a smile on his face when I'd come visit my parents and we'd go to the Chinese buffet with them.
He always crushed my hand when I shook it, but I never told him in order to not sound like a sissy :)

While I was never very close to him, he was an Uncle that I always considered close family despite the distance in our relationship and distance in where we lived. His loss is a gap that won't be filled, and shouldn't.

Matthew Collin

October 3, 2019

Dear Grandpa,

When I was younger, I remember playing Uno with you. Your victory dances always made me smile. But you also taught me that whenever you lose, it meant that the game was rigged. So either way, you knew how to add a little fun to any card game.

I remember when we would play poker and you would call me "Goo-goo" because I could never pay attention to the game. Even though you were frustrated at me, you still let me play (Although I think there were a few times where you were close to kicking me out of the game.) Eventually, I got (somewhat) better at paying attention and I learned how to play many different forms of poker from you.

I remember the times when Peter and I were in your backyard and you let us go fishing in the small lake. You taught us how to cast a line, to reel it in slowly, and then to start all over when you reeled it in all the way. Whenever I went over to your house, I would always want to go out and cast a line out.

I remember when you taught Peter and I how to play Pinochle. You were so serious about it that you basically scared everyone else away. Despite this, Peter and I continued to play that first set and you wiped the board with us. Slowly but surely, we got better at it (even though I would still try to play with a risky hand on occasion.) It soon became the number one thing we loved doing when we got to see you. On occasion, Grandma would begrudging play with us, but it always felt like something that you, Peter, and I shared between each other.

All of these memories are precious to me. I hold them dear to my heart. All of the Pinochle games we played, the pounds of double stuffed Oreos we devoured, the gallons of ice cream we had, and the hours out on a fishing boat will not be forgotten.

Bob Anderson

October 1, 2019

So many more memories and reasons to be thankful Fred was a part of our family.

Fred would come by every Sunday when he was dating Annie to have dinner with us, and when he whipped the potatoes by hand, there wouldn't be a single lump.

If my mom did Jack LaLanne, so did Fred. If she knitted, he picked up a pair of needles also.

He helped Dad with numerous projects

If anyone needed help-nailing on a roof or pouring concrete for a patio- he was there.

Before he went into the Union, Fred would repair Hoover Vacuums at our house, and he'd call me down to the basement to help him fix them.

He loved to play handball, to go to the racetrack, fishing off Captree, and listening to Dave Brubeck, which he felt was real music.

He always drove either a Chevy or Buick when he was young, switching to a Lincoln after he moved down to Florida.

He hung out with my brother Artie and my cousin George.

He encouraged me to go on the Stratosphere in Vegas, insisting it would be fine. That's another 10 years of my life gone.

One final thing: Fran and I are so grateful he was able to get Bobby into Local 25 of the Electrician's union, where he's been for the past 22 years.

Fred was a big man, and as so many others have said, he'll be missed.

Peter Collin

October 1, 2019


Thank you for being my very first patient. Though my working diagnosis at the time was “your eyes don’t get enough sleep at night, so your eyes are closing themselves during the day” was a bit off the mark, you always supported me and genuinely valued what I had to say.

Thank you for being a testament to the fact that change does not happen over night, but it is a commitment you have to make every day.

Thank you for making us all sore losers and even sorer winners. Always starting by playing down your ability with a “Yahtzee? I don’t think I remember how to play this one,” and then you would easily take the first round. We did not need to tally the scores to know who one, but we still did. “Oh, did I win that one?” you would say from an expressionless face with wrap around sunglasses and a hat that had seen better days. Then like clockwork you would say, “Well, you know what they say, the blind chicken gets a kernel of corn once in a while” as a wry smile stretched across your face. But the smile was just a herald for the victory dance that was soon to come as if it was bubbling up from your core. And of course a victory dance is not complete if there isn’t whistling to accompany it. And it never failed to make us laugh and be more determined to win the next game.

Thank you for not being afraid to tell us you loved us and that you were proud of us whether we were at the airport or just parting ways for the evening.

I am still grappling with the fact that I won’t get to see you in May when I walk across that stage, a stage that your support and hard-work helped put me on. But I take comfort in the fact that I know you will be walking along with me, doing a modified victory dance, because like you said, you wouldn’t miss it for the world.



Ethan Herr

September 30, 2019

I miss u grandpa I had a great time with you in Florida I miss you so much I wish you where still here all of us will remember you till the end of time I remember when we saw jaws went fishing and went roller skating and went to your favorite ice cream store I will hold you close to my heart we all love you and miss you we will remember you ❤❤😭😭

Bobby Anderson, Jr

September 30, 2019

Uncle Fred taught me the art of a firm hand shake. He would crush my hand and pretty much drop me to my knees. Oh yeah.. I was about four or five years old when he started doing this. As I got older, naturally my hands got bigger and I was able to "fight back." I'd shake hands with Uncle Fred and squeeze as hard as I could, which made him laugh. Now I'm 40 years old and I've been a union construction worker for more than half of my life. I greet everyone I meet with a "Uncle Fred" handshake. Much to the dismay of one particular guy who dropped to one knee in agony when I shook his hand. Apparently this dummy had recently broken several bones in his hand due to a motorcycle accident and decided to remove his cast a few weeks early. Unbeknownst to me, I think he had to get the bones reset and a new cast put on. Whoops.

Bob Anderson

September 29, 2019

Fred was my brother-in-law. We worked together for a long time. When we were in Arizona, I used to call home, and then Fred would call while I was beside him. Fred would talk to Annie, and he could hear the boys in the background, saying, "I want my daddy!" And I could see tears welling in Fred's eyes. He got all choked up.

He was a real fun guy. Back in the day, he would take us to the beach. He'd bury me in the sand up to my neck, and then he and Annie would pack up the blankets and walk toward the car as if they were going to leave me there. He'd take us to the movies, and of everything that was playing, he chose Psycho. I couldn't shower without the shower curtain open for a month. And when we went to Coney Island, he insisted I go on the Cyclone with him. I didn't want to, but he said it would be okay, nothing to worry about. Went up, came down, and after the final drop, he wanted to go on again. Um.. no.

He really was a wonderful man. When I was in junior high, I came home with black and blue marks on my arm from being bullied. The next day, I got called to the principal's office with the rotten kid who'd been picking on me. Who was sitting there but my mother and Fred. In front of the principal, Fred said, "If this happens again, all his brothers are going to come up here with me." This shook up the kid, and while we were walking back to the class, he asked, "Was that your father?" Years later, when I spoke of this with Fred, he said, "He never bothered you again, did he?" And of course, he hadn't. Fred was a big man you didn't want to mess with, but he would give you the shirt off his back.

Between Fred, me, and my brother Artie, we had a great time together. They're both gone now, and I'll miss them every day.

Leslie Choe

September 28, 2019

We moved to NJ several years ago and when we did, we started the Christmas pajama tradition. Dad and mom always came for Christmas, so they had to join in. I told dad to put his pjs on, he said NO! I’m not doing that. Needless to say, I told him get upstairs and put them on. He told me that this is elderly abuse. 😀 thanks dad for putting the pjs on and joining in. You made it so much more fun. We will miss you terribly.

Daniel Herr

September 28, 2019

I’m going to miss playing monopoly with you, and your love for a good competitive game.
I miss you already.

Jacob Herr

September 28, 2019

I’m going to miss having you over for the holidays and all the times you made us laugh.