Fred Karpoff, Jr., or Uncle Fred as I know him, was my Godfather.

Kindness is primarily what comes to mind when I think of him. Generosity, humor, intelligence, and stoicism are close seconds. Having a long life and having lived it well provides a wise perspective on things. Uncle Fred had a long life, lived it well, and was wise and compassionate. Those characteristics, also closely shared by Aunt Marian, underscored their commitments to peace and human dignity.

Most of us are familiar with how Uncle Fred had been unfairly stripped of his opportunity to work at NASA as a metallurgist, without any due cause or evidence, as the result of the appalling activities of McCarthyism. That happened before I was born, so as a young adult I once asked him about that.

I don’t remember exactly what Uncle Fred said but was struck by how he responded. His stoicism left such a positive impression on me that when I experience disappointments and challenges in my life, I sometimes think of Uncle Fred’s experience and how that lends perspective to mine.

I remember Uncle Fred helping his brother Walt, my Dad, reroof his house, a ranch model in Eastlake, Ohio, around 1988. I was honored to see two excellent role models working together there while allowing me to participate.

Uncle Fred was very good with technology, but occasionally there was an exception. I learned to call Aunt Marian’s cellphone, since Uncle Fred’s had a message that went something like “…this is Fred, struggling with his phone…”. I have to be careful here, since I’m a bit weak at operating my own phone.

He was also exceptionally good with technology. My Dad told me about the time that Uncle Fred and their father (my Grandfather) once purchased and repaired in their garage an old car that was significantly damaged in an accident. At one point, Uncle Fred and Grandpa machined replacement parts for an overrunning clutch in that car’s drivetrain.

I remember his love for the outdoors and travel. When I was a youngster, I recall that he was an adult leader in the Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts in Willoughby, Ohio. Later, my wife Lynn and I always enjoyed and were excited by receiving those personalized, handmade cards from Uncle Fred and Aunt Marian that summarized some of their extensive travels.

I received a world globe and a book on aviation and space flight from Uncle Fred and Aunt Marian on my 10th birthday. Looking back, even though that was before they began travelling in earnest, I see how they loved fostering in others a learning and a curiosity about our world and the things and people in it.

So Uncle Fred, you’ve traveled well in the life you’ve lived and I’m wishing you well in the new life before you. Until we meet again, God bless you.

Sincerely,

Mark Karpoff

Posted for July LeBlanc:

Words that describe him for me:

Kind ,gentle, thoughtful, interested in my interactions with him at U Temple over the years, briefly in our Sharing Circle,. and with more recent visits. A dear soul.. I will miss him.

Judy LeBlanc

To the Marian, Karpoff, and Poole families,

I only just learned of Elder Fred’s passing yesterday. I know his steady presence will be deeply missed. He lived a full and generous life, and I paused to give thanks for that—for the way he shaped your lives, and mine too. Marian was always the voice I heard—clear, supportive, and affirmative. But Elder Fred was the quiet foundation: calm, grounded, and unwavering. When I filled out the form and came to the question about my relationship, I found myself checking “family.” That’s how you made me feel. The Karpoffs and Pooles welcomed me as one of their own, and the boundaries between your two families always seemed to blur into one. I loved seeing the photos and memories of the grandchildren. Thank you, Fred, for being such a solid presence in so many lives.

From Ted and Jeanette Poole:

Ted:  For me Fred was consistent. He was the same person whether you needed a car repair, a brake job or a wheel barring. The way he played a game or loved his family was consistent. I knew him as my family too. Most of all he was the life blood of my dear sister. For that I will love him forever. 

Jeanette:  When I think of Fred... Great dancer. Wonderful singing voice. Quiet, reserved, a thinker, fun, smart pinochle partner. Always seeking knowledge and analyzing. He loved to create or fix anything like cars, houses. He was delighted to help Ted use a sledge hammer to knock down our house outside wall to build a new room. He drove he and Marian across the country to meet us in Glacier National Park to go camping. Always cautious, warning others to "watch out". Loved Marian with a passion and his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. He is our hero the way he dealt with the end of life. We and our family are honored to have been part of his life.

From the viewpoint of a nephew-in-law; I saw Fred as your cornerstone.

He was self-confident and comfortable taking a back seat in order to make things work and encourage others.

He publicly adored Marion and showed us that a romance can be timeless.

Impressed I said to myself; that’s what I want for Kathy and me.

Fred would not only offer a beer; but would sit down and have one with.

What I remember most is that he was generous in conversation; interested to listen, analyze, and discuss almost anything.

With an engineer’s inclination to problem solve.

Most of all; he truly was a good person.

With love and thankfulness,

Mark

Words I associate with my Grandpa Fred.

Practical, calm, steadfast, kindness with a fair bit of stubbornness :)

Memories:

He was the most consistent father-figure in my life. He drove me to and from school when I didn’t have a school bus route around 3rd/4th grade, and took care of me during breaks and sick days. We watched a lot of Matlock and Soap Operas. We ate well, I credit him (and Grandma) for my love of food. I remember being really interested in a brief story he told about foraging for mushrooms, nuts, and other food in the outskirts of Cleveland during the Depression era. He was fiercely loyal, cautious, shy yet gregarious, meticulously groomed, caring, loved food, and would always fight over the bill when dining at a restaurant with a group.

I only knew him as a retiree, but he was always busy with something. He would clean the bathroom while in it, clean the kitchen immediately after a meal, show up regularly to mow our lawn while maintaining his own yard, and build things that were elegant and functional. He would grow vegetables, bargain shop, and tinker on the computer. Classical music was always playing in the background. He could really rock a Bolo Tie. I’ll really miss his Grandpa-chuckle, along with the ever-evolving silly names or terms of endearment like “picklepuss” (when us grandkids were younger) or more recently just “Kid.”

I wrote this little poem a couple months ago in an online poetry workshop, the first poem I have written in years.

We always eat together

on quiet afternoons

after school

Simple sandwiches

shared

at the table

You, in your oatmeal

sweater

with turtle buttons

long-sleeved, collared shirt

worn jeans

and house loafers

You showed me how

to rewire an old house

and make an epic lunch

with pickles…

And how to 

plant potatoes

in the earth

Fred was always one of the dads in the larger family that helped me to feel safe in the world. Some specific memories: 

1) I had gotten into trouble as a 16 year old living in Los Angeles and the courts required me to leave the state, and Fred and Marian, who were living in Chicago at the time, took me in. It's blurry, but one part of that was the car broke down on the expressway after Fred picked me up at the bus station, and we had to dart across lanes of speeding traffic together. And so in that my lowest moment in life to that point, I realized that Fred would risk his life for me, as he would for all of us, and I felt loved.

2) I made a flippant remark about corruption in Russia during the Serbian conflict years ago, and he looked pained, and asked me to reconsider my disregard for something I knew little about.

3) At a presentation at the U Temple 10 or 15 years ago, about the project in Kenya, I started to cry when I talked about the challenges with the work, and once I started crying I couldn't stop for what felt like an eternity, maybe 20 minutes? We had been standing in a circle at that point and the community held me, but it was awkward. I knew that my breakdown was embarrassing for everyone, and I could tell that for Fred it was eventually excruciating since I represented our family. But somehow I needed that. I've never broken down since that time--the love that I received changed me. And Fred exists in the center of that memory for me, that he had my back even though it cost him.

Throughout childhood, I always wanted more from Fred than I got. But my experience is that he kept opening through life, and that included being open to me. 

My dear Uncle Fred,
as we spoke last,
I am here for you and
you are here for me.

Your hope that we talk again
is taking a new form yet
our connection continues.
You will always be with me.

The blessings you have brought to my days
are part of my tears in this moment.
Accepting this change
needs all my attention,
all my feeling.

Tissues hold my resistance
in saying goodbye.
Then I let them go
and think again
about the adventures
that you have lived,
the pictures you have taken
connecting all of us.

This is my chorus
in accepting this change.
I can laugh because I cry,
I can cry because I smile.

I have heard you answer my question
many times with the words
“I don’t know if I am answering
your question but…” and then
my question is answered.
I have trusted you my whole life.

Now it is time for me to listen
To you, to family, to friends, to the expression of love.
John Poole 5/12/25

As a kid I remember Uncle Fred as the guy with the camera. While we were busy running around doing things there he was, noticing, and I imagine he must have been thinking about the future, when those photos would take on layers of value and meaning. “Say cheese,” he would say, and we would roll our eyes because he was interrupting the beeline to dessert, or a game of tag. Now, thanks to him, there’s this incredible archive of family life going back generations.

Last year during one of our too-infrequent visits, Uncle Fred said he’d missed me. “I’m looking around and it’s like, somebody’s missing, one of the kids,” and I realized that he was still carrying me in his heart along with all the rest of us former kids, counting heads. In my life he’s always been such a steady, caring, quietly observing and perceiving presence. I don’t have words for my gratitude to him, but “perceptive” is one word I can think of, for him.  

Listening to all of the wonderful responses from loved ones of Fred and Marion reminds me that their are generational memories and mine go back beyond all of the wonderful things that have been said and were true.  I remember the hard times when the government thought Fred's dad couldn't be trusted and the paranoia that was in the air and how deeply, deeply, deeply that affected Fred and his family and yet the strength that he lived through that.  I don't ever remember bitterness, some confusion yes and some sense of betrayal but he was a warrior through all of that and so was Marion.  I am so grateful to the lessons I learned from them on how to stand when life is basically, totally unfair and there's not a heck of a lot you can do but wait it out and hope that the tide will turn, kind of where we're at now, although I think that there are things we can do but I'm not clear.  They're certainly not without controversy, but back to Fred.  He was a warrior, he never dumped on family that I could see.  He kept his own spirits alive, somehow, he cared for his parents, somehow.  There was a strength, a belief, a feeling of good was still present in the midst of a really horrible situation.  And then when they sold their house to a black family in Willoughby and the uproar with that you know it's like we did the right thing.  People will get used to it.  I loved Fred dearly.  He and I were born on different pages of the book but boy I thing I saw him and I loved him and I'm very grateful for him.

Thank you Fred for living a good live and I'll be forever grateful.  Love you, Jean