The year was 1970, The time was Fall, the place Minneapolis St. Paul International Airport. Dr. Sigurd and Mrs. Margit Fredrickson greeted a very excited skinny brown boy as he emerged from the exit door of the Giant metallic bird, a Boeing 747 that flew across the great blue Ocean from the other side of the world.
 
Back in 1969, Terry Fredrickson a twenty-two-year-old American Peace Corps Volunteer met the boy when he was teaching English as a second language at the Nakhon Si Thammarat Teacher’s Training School in southern Thailand. The boy, a son of a small rice farmer from the Jungle, who was studying to become a teacher, heard about the world of tomorrow where people would fly to the Moon and walk on it. He decided to build a telescope to see with own eyes if that was true. America? What kind of people live there? Where is this place? What even do they eat that makes it possible to make this machine that can fly around the world and out into the heavens?

Terry wrote home about the funny and curious student. He and his parents decided to surprise the boy by sending him to Northfield Minnesota to see and experience the real America for himself for one year. Terry took the boy to Bangkok where he put him on The North West Orient Airline’s Trans Pacific Flight alone, with a sign hanging from his neck saying he does not speak English, Final destination Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport.

The Fredricksons drove the boy home on a colorful Fall day of Minnesota. It really is a different world here, the boy thought. The leaves of the trees are not green but yellow, gold and red. The sky so blue. Arriving at his destination, a two story American-style house on 218 Manitou Street, he met the relatives, close friends and neighbors, the Fredrickson's other son Karl and daughters Barbara and Annette. The people were also quite different here in this part of the world, blue eyes, white skin with hair of gold and red as beautiful as the trees and the sky. This was truly a strange and different land.

You might think it would be exceedingly difficult for the boy to experience everything in a year if he does not know the language well enough but Mrs. Fredrickson, Margit that is, had a plan for that. She put the boy on the bus that took him to Northfield High School. Every morning she would wake him up and feed him a hearty breakfast and put him on the yellow bus complete with a bag lunch. At night she would sit with him on the sofa where Dr. Fredrickson would build a fire in the fireplace if he thought it might be too cold for the boy. Margit would read with him, explaining word by word, line by line from the books assigned by the high school teachers, from the likes of Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn to Willa Cather’s My Antonia.

When holidays and semester vacations came around, the boy was treated to the wonderful ice cream cone from Dairy Queen, a McDonald’s Big Mac delicious all beef patties with special sauce on a sesame seeds bun. They took him on a family picnics at the riverside park and then on an exciting road trip to see America, driving from Minnesota to Chicago, Illinois, to Maryland's Annapolis and the US capital in Washington DC to see the Smithsonian, He really got to see parts of the original space craft and space suits that Armstrong and Aldrin used for the 1969 Apollo 11 Moon walk. The boy even got on top of world tallest building in big city of New York. Margit made sure that a boy from the Jungle would get all his answers before putting him on the Time Machine and sending him back to the past.

Margit Fredrickon did all that for this boy in just 12 months. No, she did more than that, the boy even got to celebrate his Birthday for the first time. She encouraged and supported his interest in Art, sent him to special printing class, setting him up for painting portraits in Northfield county fair. It was an example of her genuine care and love in the manner of mother to son. The boy felt so special and so loved. He overcame his timidity and shyness from his primitive life and became confident and comfortable. In a short time, his life was transformed. He was living in a modern environment like all American kids -- the American dream. He was armed with self-assurance and ready for any world past, present or future

One year passed quickly. Fall turned into Winter, then Spring, then Summer. Margit's hard work was successful. The boy, having learned how to read and write, graduated from High school. This was more than the boy could imagine and he was incredibly happy. Fall once again came around, the boy’s one-year journey to America came to an End. He was ready to fly back to his world of yesteryear in Southern Thailand, to tell his friends and neighbors of what he had experienced the future world and would perhaps become a teacher.

But that did not happen, Margit Fredrickson did not stop there. She motivated other people including professors and president of nearby Colleges and also the Rotary club of Northfield. She would do this as any mother would do to have her son get into higher education. Eventually the boy went on to study animation film making at the Famous St. Olaf College in Northfield Minnesota. Upon graduation in 1975, he made a short-animated film which won a first prize award on WCCO/CBS TV Moore on Sunday Film Festival. He later went to work for Charles Schultz’s Charlie Brown and Snoopy Animated Film and TV specials, Jim Davis’s Garfield, Disney TV Goof Troops, and later became an Overseas Director for the World-Famous Animated Television Series The Simpsons.

That boy was me, Utit Choomuang, I owed my lifelong experiences to her. She is the only one out of 7.5 billion plus people on this Earth that can do this. She is Margit Fredrickson. I called her “Mom Fredrickson”, my American Mother. I was so truly fortunate and so thankful to know her and be part of her family, The Fredricksons.

Thank you for everything “Mom Fredrickson” You will always be in my heart and I will miss you dearly.

The boy from the Jungle,
Utit Choomuang

From Unchalee Sermsongswad:
To me, the vivid picture of Margit Frederickson is a graceful old lady with a smile of kindness always on her face. From the first day till the last day I met her, she never failed to show her kindness to me.
Our first getting to know each other was years ago. She invited me and three other students to her house in Northfield. We had never known each other before, but the way and things she prepared for us showed how thoughtful she was. Special kind of Thai food for four of us who were away from home for a while was such a wonderful treat, especially in a friendly and enjoyable atmosphere. I remember that at one point during our chat, I showed an interest in the Lily-of-the-valley, and surprisingly one day before I left Northfield, she came to see me with a bouquet of Lily-of-the-valley and a bar of soap of that flower fragrance. It touched me deeply, and that day is still vivid in my eyes.
The second time we met, she was very sad as she was going to leave her home where “I have lived since I was born, grew up, got married, had family and till today.” We discussed for a long time the advantages of moving to a smaller place, and being able to choose who to pass down our possession to. I admire her quick adjustment and understanding even though it is reasonable for someone her age to feel upset leaving her lifelong home.
Our third meeting was when she was in her new home. As always she prepared to welcome me with something special. This time we had tea in a beautiful teacup. After such a long time of not seeing each other for a long time, we got lots of catching up to do. She was curious to hear what was happening in my country and my life. Before I left her that day, she said to me, “It’s difficult to live long.” Yes, Margit, it is, but you have passed it gracefully.
Years later, I visited her in another new home. Again, she prepared things in advance to spend time with me even though she had problems with her hearing and moving. This time she had lots of pictures to show me. She shared the stories behind the pictures and we passed the memorable time together with smiles and lots of laughs. When it’s time to say goodbye, she gave me a long big hug, and that’s the last hug.
I treasure all the memories of every minute I spent with you, Margit. Now it’s not difficult for you anymore. Be happy in your “new home”.

Dear Karl and family,
   Your mom always lived with love, gratitude and contentment in her life; so it is natural that she would pass from life the same way. Your dad will be happy to have her back.
   My heart goes out to all of you for your immediate feelings of loss, but Margit will always be with you in your smiles, your kind words and your interest in life. Those are things she passed on to everyone she loved, and that probably encompassed everyone she knew.
   Love to you all,
       Janice

Farewell to a great Lady! Margit was so sweet to me when I met her & Sigurd in 1978. My parents visited Sigurd and Margit in the summer of 1980. Margit interviewed my father; she got him talking about his career as an airplane pilot, how he owned DC-10 planes and managed his own flight school (that closed during the years of the Great Depression). Best of all was his description of Barn Storming, when he flew his airplane to the country to give people a ride in his airplane for 5 or 10 cents each. Margit asked just the right questions to get my dad reminiscing.
Margit never met a stranger. She always showed an interest in you and what you were doing. Gracious and kind-hearted, she holds a place in my heart & in my daily prayers. May her star shine brightly above all people she has touched in life. My condolences to the family. With love, Maria

So many people have told me about the incredible interest my dear mother Margit showed in the lives of the people around her. (My cousin Diane testifies beautifully to that.) As a teenage boy all the questions could, of course, get aggravating, but as I got older I realized that so much of this had washed over onto me. Yes, people are endlessly fascinating, and learning that was a gift she gave me for which I am forever grateful. And there were those family gatherings where we "traveled" together. My mother made it clear that, while we weren't going to be doing much traveling (except to family in Chicago), we could go around the world in our imaginations. So out came the World Book; we chose our countries and began to share what we had learned. So she was partially to blame for the "wanderlust" I developed after college. I recently found a letter in which I thanked her for trusting me, having faith that I would find my way through all my travels to discover what I was meant to do in life. Yes, she worried a bit, but she was always so supportive of my explorations--outer and inner-- wherever they might take me.

Margit is my Auntie Margit. I always loved when she and Uncle Sigurd and my cousins would come to visit Grandma and Grandpa in Chicago from Northfield because I lived right next door. Mostly I was happy to play with my cousins but Auntie Margit always made everything happier, safer, calmer, more interesting and often more purposeful. She has been a constant, loving, nurturing presence in my life as an adult too, often from afar through letters and some phone calls, but also in person. Whenever we were together whether in Northfield or Chicago she'd always give me so much time and attention and focus on whatever was going on with me and share so graciously and patiently when I would seek to learn more about her. I was fortunate to enjoy her warm hospitality in both homes in Northfield and she facilitated my goals and expanded my horizons in significant ways. She always made me feel special. And I was, because she was my aunt. My deepest sympathy to my cousins Terry, Karl, Barbara and Annette. Thank you for the ways you have honored and shared your mom these last several years. God bless and keep you all. Much love, Diane

Margit--
I love you. I am so thankful to have had you in my life for so many years. Ours is truly a cherished relationship and such a gift to me. Not many have known me since I was a small child. I think God had his hand on my family to place us at 311 Oxford street when He did.
I can still remember Sig helping me with piano pieces in your living room- the beautiful keepsakes from several cultures and places surrounding us. I can remember coming over to your house and dusting your valuables from behind the glass cases. You trusted me not to drop them- I remember feeling so proud of myself for "helping" you with that task. And now, as adult, I look back at that and realize that likely those treasures didn't need dusting- you just allowed the little neighbor girl to feel special about herself - to feel helpful- to feel valued and noticed. And you always have. I can see you now, pursing your lips, nodding your head back and forth with a little giggle, asking me, "and you're still teaching with having 5 children of your own? I just don't know how you do it". And there again- you make me feel cherished. Helpful to society. Valued. And Margit, during these days, when your strength is fleeting, and your eyes are often closed, I want you to know that you are so dear, cherished and valued by my family too. Your kind eyes and Swedish heritage. The way you speak of your parents and children. The way you believe in people. The way you hope for the good for our country and world. Margit you have always provided for me an example of someone who never stops learning. Never stops caring. Never stops seeking to understand. And you are the treasure. A gem of high value. A gift. A friend. God's child, and My neighbor forever.
I love you Margit.
Kelly

Easter 1997 I and my boyfriend Arjan met Margit and Sigurd in Northfield. It was Easter and their whole family was gathered. Margit invited me as I was a granddaughter of her uncle Sam and was living in Colorado at the time, being born in the Netherlands. It was a pleasure to meet Margit. I had only heard speaking about her as my mother's cousin who lived at the other side of the Atlantic Ocean. We felt very welcome and stayed over the weekend. I remember she was eager to keep memories and traditions from her Swedish parents alive. She even still could speak some Swedish, although she could practise very little. We enjoy memories of that only visit.
Margit's father and my grandfather stayed in touch by writing letters to each other. Many of those letters were saved and brought together in a book. I enjoyed reading them. They both gave me insight into my grandfather's life and the life of his brother Henry, the emigrant as we would say. Thank you for sharing these letters and Margit's stories with us.

I treasure the memories I have of your parents growing up on Orchard and Oxford Streets. They were part of the circle of friends my parents knew and then we got to know, as children. Your mom used to tell stories of how she, your dad and my parents were "across the hall neighbors" on Plum St. in their first apartments. She was very kind when my mother died, and continued to be so into my adult years. I told your mom when I saw her last, I always had loved the house you had on Orchard St. it was such a wonderful layout, I way jealous of that...especially those stairs! She laughed and said she remembered a lot of kids running up, down and around them! I especially remember her in that large kitchen baking...with a red and white apron on; she continued on with her graciousness when I would visit her in the Oxford house and even when I saw her last at the care center- we had coffee and treats!

I was so blessed growing up with great neighbors; I will always cherish the stories they shared.

With sympathy to you and your family.

Joan and I loved every encounter we ever had with Margit! She always had a smile on her beautiful face and the sweet way she said, "Bye bye" will be forever with us. She finally gets to go to her heavenly home - a trip she's been looking forward to for years now. Rest in Peace Margit! We love you. God be with your family.

One of the best parts of growing up in Northfield was the amazing neighbors we had. In particular, Margit and Sig - our next door neighbors when we lived on Oxford St. They were the perfect neighbors, always there to take care of me and my siblings and always ready with a story about life in their mother country, Sweden. They became like 2nd grandparents to us. And a living testament to the power of growing up in a small town where your neighbors are your family.

I was lucky to get to introduce Luke & Lottie to Margit these past few years. Her love for us inspires me to help my own family cultivate relationships with neighbors. At a time when we're all separated, it feels only more poignant to live by Margit's example of reaching out to neighbors with love. Rest in peace, Margit - we love you. ❤️

                  "Gone From My Sight"

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship, at my side,
spreads her white sails to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck
of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says, "There, she is gone."

Gone where?

Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me -- not in her.

And, just at the moment when someone says, "There, she is gone,"
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout, "Here she comes!"

And that is dying...
       
                              -- Luther Beecher