Frederick
Whiting Bird died peacefully with family at his side on March 12,
2025, in St. Albans, Vt. The cause of death was pneumonia.
Fred
was born on May 2, 1954, in Evanston, Ill., the second child of Anne
and Charles Bird. After stints in Charlotte, Toronto and two Buffalo
suburbs, his family landed happily in East Aurora, N.Y. He lived in
western New York until 2021, when he moved to an assisted-living
residence down the road from his sister, Lucy, in Burlington, Vt.
Born
with Rh incompatibility, for which today’s proactive treatment was
not yet developed, Fred got off to a shaky start involving intensive
therapy and a complete blood transfusion soon after birth. He more
than made up for those early anxious days, becoming a joyful and
talented extrovert, a quirky character-actor kind of guy with a
remarkable command of words and music across many genres.
As
early as elementary school, Fred was growing into what we might now
term a “creative” — curious, smart, insightful, and able to
translate his observations and understanding of the world into poetry
and art and onto the stage. He was equally adept at producing fine,
serious writing and theater as he was at making friends, classmates
and family laugh, fueled by his prodigious sense of humor. Fred’s
happy high school years in East Aurora — as accomplished actor and
gifted student chosen by classmates to be one of two graduation
speakers — culminated in a gap year and then one semester of
college, where the illness that was to challenge the rest of his life
first presented.
Fred’s
life is a both a story of lost potential and of perseverance and
lifelong creativity. He was diagnosed with mental illness in the
1970s. Although he did not write a Broadway musical or become the New
York Times theater critic, as many had predicted, he made his
mark nonetheless. He continued to write and appreciate music
virtually every day of his life, organizing his sometimes disordered
thinking into meaningful artistic form.
Until
August 2024, Fred was writing regularly and tooling around his
residence, sometimes pushing his walker a little too fast. Everything
changed quickly in his last few months, when he experienced a number
of falls, ER visits, COVID-19, hospitalizations including spinal
decompression surgery, surgical rehab and, ultimately, a short-lived
move to a skilled nursing facility, relying on a wheelchair. Perhaps
most poignantly, he lost the dexterity required to produce his daily
lifeblood — pages and pages of creative writing. Nonetheless, he
prevailed, clearly motivated to improve, demonstrating a strong
commitment to physical and occupational therapy.
Fred
is survived by his siblings, Lucy Bird Masters (Jeffrey) of
Burlington, Vt., and Stephen Charles Bird of New York City; two
nephews; and several cousins. He was predeceased by his parents and a
nephew.
Following
a private graveside remembrance later this year, Fred’s ashes will
be buried in a beautiful Boston cemetery, surrounded by his parents,
grandmother, nephew and other relatives. In the meantime, Lucy is
writing about Fred and coordinating several small gatherings in his
name. She welcomes your interest in participating and/or sharing
memories by mail or phone. Please contact her at
poetfredbird@gmail.com or Lucy Bird Masters, PO Box 3073, Burlington,
VT 05408-3073.
Please
consider a donation in Fred’s name to your local chapter of the
National Alliance on Mental Illness or to the Brain and Behavior Research Foundation, 747 Third Ave., New York, NY 10017.
And
please look openly — with compassion and respect for their full
personhood — at the unhoused or adrift among you. There but for the
grace of God, a committed family, and many people and organizations
throughout the decades might Fred have gone.
Fred’s
family is grateful to all who “got” Fred and to all who have
worked in various capacities to understand and support him over the
years. A special shout-out to his muse, Joni Mitchell, who had his
steadfast allegiance throughout her creative evolution.
This article appears in Mar 26 – Apr 1, 2025.