In Memoriam: A Eulogy

My dad was born on 1 July 1953 in Elko, NV  to Alfred William Hansen and Dorsmae (Hinze) Hansen.  He was given the name Alfred Lee Hansen in honor of his father and grandfather who shared the Alfred moniker.  To distinguish from the other (already distinguished) Alfreds, he was quickly dubbed “Freddie” and the name stuck until adulthood when he started going by “Fred” instead.  (Although, most of his immediate family lovingly called him Freddie his entire life.)

His childhood and teen years were spent in Chowchilla, CA where he graduated from high school in 1971.  After leaving home to attend Brigham Young University in Provo, he took a 2 year hiatus from school to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in the Brazil Porto Alegre mission. 

Upon returning from his mission, he finished up his studies at BYU -- with a major in history and a minor in Spanish -- and then went on to study law at Tulane University in New Orleans with a wife and young baby in tow.  For the next two decades, Fred was proud to call New Orleans home as he practiced law and served in his Church and community -- and added six more children to the mix.

The last decade and a half of his life was spent in Fresno, CA, where he continued his lifelong efforts to help immigrants find their footing in the land of the free and the home of the brave.  

The Fred Hansen that many people saw was well-educated, highly intelligent, and professional.  But he was much more than just that. Those who knew him best know that he also had a fantastic sense of humor and loved a good joke (or prank, as the case may be).  One of his favorite movies to watch with his kids was “Dennis the Menace,” and whenever we got to the part where Mr. Wilson had chicklet teeth in his dentures, he would laugh so hard his face would turn red!  

Another example of his patented brand of humor would be the way he would occasionally draw pictures on our arms with a ball point pen while we were sleeping and then try to convince us when we woke up that aliens had done it.  More than anything, though, he got the biggest kick out of his children and whatever shenanigans we got into. I’m pretty sure that one of my dad’s favorite stories to tell was of the time when I was maybe 7 or 8 and used peanut butter to hang some of my drawings on the wall because I couldn’t find any tape.  

As my siblings and I have been exchanging stories and memories over the last week, the common thread in all of them was how proud he was of all of us, even when it wasn’t necessarily merited. THAT is unconditional love.

Some of our favorite memories we’ve revisited this week are: the way he always smelled like cloves thanks to the healthy stash he kept in his pocket so that he always had some on hand for chewing; and the way he would cleverly use manilla folders to wrap our text books in rather than some run-of-the-mill ordinary brown paper bag; how he ALWAYS had an assortment of rubber bands in his desk, should any emergency arise; and that he was the KING of vocabulary (some of my fondest memories as a child are of him quizzing me on the “Word Power” segment in the Reader’s Digest); and of course, there’s the fact that Squirt was his favorite drink and the hard-to-find Big Hunk was his favorite candy bar; and how can we forget about his epic Barnes & Noble trips, where he’d sit and read a whole book before it was time to go?;  and then, there’s the way he loved to honk and wave at every person we passed on the street as we drove to school, even -- or perhaps especially -- if we didn’t know them; and how endearing it was that he used what seemed like an entire roll of packing tape to wrap up each package he sent our way as adults and the hordes and hordes of candy he used in place of packing peanuts. Honestly, I could go on and on forever!  

In short, he was an extraordinary man who lived an extraordinary life.  It seems almost impossible to represent him in full measure, but I hope I’ve given a good enough approximation here today.  While we are heartbroken that he has left us so soon, we take comfort in knowing that he is now free from the burdens of the physical and mental ailments that plagued him in his earthly life.  His spirit is at rest and the peace that brings is powerful. How good it is to know that families are forever. I’m positive that his reunion on the other side of the veil with his beloved mother was a joyous occasion.  And I’m grateful to know that instead of a forever good-bye, we can leave today with an “Until we meet again.”