There are people who just have something. They exude a cool kindness that makes others feel as if they have known these special people their whole lives.
Fred Williams was one of those people.
Fred worked for The Nebraska Medical Center’s Food and Nutrition Services Department. I knew of him because he manned the omelet station a few mornings a week — a station I frequent when I run late and am unable to grab breakfast at home before work.
Fred would be there, often with three or four pans over flames, each containing omelets in varying stages of preparation.
While coolly flipping one omelet, adding ingredients to another and plating a third, Fred would be in almost continual conversation with customers who called the cook by name. They did so because, simply, they were friends.
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I could tell just by listening that some of these conversations had been going on for years in four or five minute snippets as Fred cooked. I also could tell that both parties appreciated each other.
I personally never engaged Fred in one of these conversations as he was usually already chatting with one of his regulars and I was content to watch him smoothly cycle through several omelets without breaking stride.
About two weeks ago on a Sunday, I was making an omelet at home and when it came time to flip it, I thought of how smooth Fred was when he would toss an omelet into the air. This mere thought was enough inspiration for me to keep my eggs in the pan — a result that is not guaranteed when I’m in the kitchen.
Last week, I went to grab lunch in the University Tower cafeteria and I saw that a cashier was wearing a memorial badge with Fred’s picture on it.
I asked if it was the same Fred that made omelets. The cashier nodded and told me that Fred died on Jan. 3. He was 57.
I was shocked. I had visited Fred’s omelet station a few times over the holidays when our department was quiet and I was able to sneak out for breakfast. Each time, he was smiling, chatting it up with customers while turning out one omelet after another.
Frankly, few people ever seemed so alive.
A memorial service for Fred will be held today at 5:30 p.m. in University Tower’s Private Dining Rooms. The service is sponsored by food and nutrition services. Those who knew Fred are invited to come and share their memories of him.
I imagine that if I, after visiting Fred’s station just a handful of times, can write about page and a half about him, there must be many people on campus — those who called him “Fred” and chatted it up with him while he cooked breakfast — who have a lot more to say.