Swirling Among The Rainbows: Freddy Moran 1930-2024

It's hard to write this because the feeling of loss grips my heart and tightens my throat. Last Tuesday evening, my friend, Freddy Moran, a person whom I've admired and loved since we met at The Cotton Patch years ago, passed away. I was backpacking in the California Sierras, off the grid, and when we came back, there was a barrage of texts and voicemails about her death. The first calls we returned were to two of her sons, Matt and Andrew, expressing our deepest condolences. We learned that her soul left her frail, 94-year-old body while in her colorful, art filled home: exactly where she wanted to be in her final moments. 

We live in a tight-knit community here in Orinda, California, where everyone knew Freddy. She and her husband, Neil, raised five fine boys who are still local. Though great sadness is present, there's also a celebration of her. She created quilts, socialized with family and friends, and even got her hair and nails done on the very last day of her exceptional life. She was revered, loved and an inspiration to all. 

When we met, Freddy was in her 60s and I was in my 30s. Her quick wit, a full spectrum of bangles stacked up to each elbow, and her unapologetic, "rules are to be broken" approach to quilting were the most refreshing qualities I had encountered in this industry. Freddy was truly one in a million. Her vibrant approach to life was evident, committed as she was to making art in her studio every day. You couldn't help but fall in love with her. Since becoming friends, I've never been able to think of the color RED without thinking of fREDdy.

Every conversation we had began with a bright "HELLLLOOOOO", a warm hug and huge smile, followed by some kind of joke about the day's news, a hopeless/dynamic (?) project in the works, the mess around the studio and the exchange inevitably circled back to sharing about our families, which we both talked at length every time we gathered. We shared similar core values, she was an avid listener as well as a grand storyteller. Laughter was easy and abundant! During the challenging years of motherhood, I'd lament about the tribulations of raising three boys, ( She had five! I knew she'd be loaded with wisdom) She'd give me survival tips of how to care for them as well as self care, hold my own, keep my sense of humor and be the queen of my castle...not the maid.

We both loved Anthropologie...Could get lost in there for hours, oohing and ahhing at all the texture, prints and color. Lunch at Neiman Marcus with their famous, melt in your mouth popovers was next!

Of course, we talked A LOT about design and pet so much fabric...that goes without saying. Her stash was the most fun ever! She loved to fabric shop so I just went to her stash to see the latest, coolest, most wild stuff currently on the market from Marimekko to Alexander Henry. Plus, I would plop my new fabrics I had created on her work table. She would gush about the brights, black and white graphics, and the crazy prints I had done. (I knew to leave my more subtle prints at home...too boring for her). She was a "more is more" kind of maker...I curated my palette by taking fabrics out....We enjoyed and respected our design differences. It made it fun. 

Full of anecdotes and wisdom, I was often asking questions about her life. "Freddy, what does seasoned creativity look like to you? How do you balance all the things in life? When do you know to carry on or finish up? How the heck did you thrive so well raising five kids?" I depended on her frank answers. She was always full of support, understanding and gave me candid responses layered with kindness and empathy when she helped me reflect on my own life.

Her beloved zinnia patch

There is no reason to not have fish hair!

Freddy healed herself by making a commitment to make a face everyday after she was extremely ill. She "graduated" Hospice 7 years ago.

The last time I played with Freddy was just before her 94th birthday. We went to her studio to make faces together.

Freddy and my MIL, Carolie hugging, at Bay Quilts, 2023. Mary Mashuta in turquoise.

Freddy made my life richer, more fun, and encouraged me to be fully me. Living within walking distance from my studio to hers was a gift, and I am so grateful for her friendship. Whether we talked on the phone or saw each other in person, she always ended our conversations in her most singsong voice: "LUUUV YOOU." 

I love you too, Freddy. I know your soul is currently swirling in the prisms of endless light, slumbering where the zinnia petal deepens from fuchsia to pomegranate, and going for joyrides, tucked in the bluebird's silky, iridescent wings....with Neil by your side. You will be missed and remembered for the rest of my days.

PS: Please share any stories or memories in the comments you have about Freddy. We'd all like to read them. Thank you for taking the time, it helps keep her alive in our hearts and when we share in the loss of a beloved person, it makes it a little bit less painful.