Laramie Movie Scope: Fred Roten

July 28, 2026 – I did not know just when my cousin, Fred Roten, died, or where he was buried, until recently, when, on a long road trip, I drove to Fairview Cemetery, near Gates, Oregon, where I found his grave, along with his mother, father, and others in his family.

I had no idea he was buried here, since he died four years ago, far away in a Salt Lake City area nursing home. I had visited him there shortly before he died, and had planned to visit him again before I learned of his death. It was nice to see that his brother, John, had arranged to have him interred in the family plot.

I grew up just a few miles away from where Fred grew up in the Santiam River Valley of Oregon (not far from Fairview Cemetery). We all called him Freddy, but his full name is Floyd Frederick Roten. He, like many others in our family, went by his middle name, not his first name. We were about the same age, and our families visited often as we grew up. Later on, Fred and I shared an apartment in Portland, Oregon for a short time before we went our separate ways. Years later, my wife and I visited Fred and his wife (they later divorced) in Portland, Oregon. I seldom saw him after that visit, since we were living far away from Portland.

Both Fred and I moved around a lot. While he stayed mostly in the western states, I lived in Michigan and Massachusetts for a time before ending up in Wyoming. When he was young, Fred was involved in a serious car accident that he never fully recovered from. He dealt with the resulting pain for most of his life. He also had an alcohol problem.

I always liked Fred and got along with him pretty well, even though we lived very different lives. While I went to college and worked as a newspaper reporter, he worked in tire shops and auto repair. It was hard work and I think it wore him down, especially because the work aggravated his old injuries.

Freddy always seem to have a kind of wisdom that I did not have. I remember once making some kind of anti-homosexual remark, and he took exception, telling me that homosexuals are people just like us. I was taken aback by this, since I thought of myself as being more liberal and open minded than he was. It turns out I was less of a non-conformist that he was. I had assumed the prejudices that surrounded me growing up were correct, while Fred had moved beyond them. He was way ahead of me in that regard.

What I owe Fred is beyond measure. When we were living in Portland, around 122nd and Burnside, I think, a mattress caught on fire in our room. I slept right through the smoke, but Freddy saved me by putting out the fire. I was lucky he was there. I've always been lucky, but Fred was not so lucky in his life and he went through a lot of tough times because of it. Life, it is often said, is not fair.

R.I.P. Freddy

Copyright © 2026 Robert Roten. All rights reserved.
Reproduced with the permission of the copyright holder.

Robert Roten can be reached via e-mail at