There are many worlds, it is said,
Exploding into infinity at instants each,
One where I turned left, one right,
One where I did no turn at all,
This “I” can only stay in one,
This heart beat on in this alone
And now, my... moreThis is from Ron Searls...
There are many worlds, it is said,
Exploding into infinity at instants each,
One where I turned left, one right,
One where I did no turn at all,
This “I” can only stay in one,
This heart beat on in this alone
And now, my murdered friend
Is gone, and though I see wild worlds of green
And blue mountains flying in a million skies
Where he lives still, they are like
Confections behind iron glass
That I have not the wherewithal
To reach, sweet, sweet to my
Imagining eye, but never now to touch
My tongue, as all futures that from
This moment do arise, are emptied,
My friend’s voice made silent
--- And no more his smile. less
It still hasn’t registered, this horrendous act to such such a warm and giving soul. I have always held the years I knew Frank near and dear to my heart, he was a part of my wonderful Ashby family. Whenever I think of Frank, it’s that amazing... moreIt still hasn’t registered, this horrendous act to such such a warm and giving soul. I have always held the years I knew Frank near and dear to my heart, he was a part of my wonderful Ashby family. Whenever I think of Frank, it’s that amazing genuine smile and quick whit. He will always hold a special place in my heart. I so love seeing his smile and that twinkle in his eye shine through all of these pictures ❤️ Debbie Cox less
Frank Drew died the way he lived: a Good Samaritan.
Frank was shot to death after he pulled over to treat the driver of a wrecked car. The driver was being sought by police for the murder of his father hours... moreThis is John Sherman's memorial piece...
Frank Drew died the way he lived: a Good Samaritan.
Frank was shot to death after he pulled over to treat the driver of a wrecked car. The driver was being sought by police for the murder of his father hours earlier. A random, senseless tragedy.
He worked with me at The Ashby Inn as maitre d'hotel and sommelier during the 1980s and 1990s. The staff—-from the dishwasher to the bartender to the servers on the floor—-revered him as a quiet, attentive, professional with a ready smile and a wry sense of humor. But most of all for his generosity and sincerity.
"He was brilliant and charming, yet possessed this deep authenticity and modesty," Martha Hughes, a server and midwife said. "He was a man at peace in his own skin."
"He was not of this crazy materialistic fake world, Frank was one of a kind. His carbon footprint was zero," remembered a friend.
Frank was a remarkable wood craftsman, an extremely passionate wine connoisseur and a lauded member of a hospital emergency room team.
He grew up in New York City. He and his twin brother, Chris, graduated from Georgetown University in the same class as Bill Clinton. Soon after, he drifted into our area.
For as long as I can remember, he rented a modest apartment right on the railroad tracks in Markham. Just across the tracks he rented a ramshackle building and began creating exquisite furniture (I sleep on a four-poster bed he made of cherrywood and write at a desk of the same wood).
"Frank valued things that spoke of great care and attention to detail. He was always generous with his friendship and his love for beautiful things," Tara Welty remembers.
"I have a wooden bowl Frank made a long time ago. I polished it to a beautiful sheen the other day," said Debbie Cox, our office manager.
I don't remember exactly when Frank gave himself over to the pursuit of wine—-beyond a glass full. He must have read volumes. He would sit in on tastings at the inn and, in his modest way, showed a knowledge that chagrined the wine rep. He could tell you which two hector on a south slope in Burgundy that produced the most coveted pinot noir grapes.
"Frank was consumed by excellence. Whether it was expressed in peaches, craftsmanship, cheese or wine. He lead us down a wonderful path. His influence raised our bar and improved our wines. He was a natural teacher. Sharing gave him great pleasure. He was our humble mentor," remembered Jim Law, owner and wine maker at Linden Vineyards.
"Frank was thorough and passionate. When he delved into something, he read and researched until he was expert. From wines, to gardening to woodworking, he developed an expertise for everything that interested him, and his interests were broad. Lately he had turned his focus on his neighborhood birds. He understood which type of feeder mesh and seed each bird preferred, and daily he battled the squirrels trying to steal the seed." That from a mutual friend, Saud, who, 25 years ago, gave Frank his credit card and told him to amass a wine cellar.
After months of research and tasting, Frank created that wine cellar whose depth and reach were stunning. He found extraordinary caches of Italian and French reds that matched Saud's myriad Middle Eastern dishes. These hours over table brought back my best memories of our times together. (Frank's glass was always half full; mine was always half empty.)
"I hatched a plan to drink Frank out of house and home. Fortunately for
Frank and unfortunately for me, I never quite pulled it off," recalled Bush Nichols, an Ashby bartender.
Frank's life took a radical turn in his fifties when he entered training to become an EMT. "He chose a life of service at a point when most folks are more focused on when they get to retire," said a friend. Once certified, he worked with Marshall Fire and Rescue. He went on to the emergency rooms of two hospitals, including Fauquier, finally working for Novant's hospital in Haymarket.
"Frank was quiet and didn't talk much about himself. He was a stand up guy who really was the father of the unit," remembered a colleague.
"Frank was almost always the first staff member in the room of every new ER patient. His warm smile, confidence in his skills and his ability to connect at the human level put us and every arrival at ease," added another.
A friend wrote a poem on Frank's death. The last lines:
…as all futures that from
This moment do arise, are emptied,
My friend’s voice made silent
--- And no more his smile.
One night long ago, Frank and I were the last ones left after close out. We were on watch. The inn rooms were all taken by a group of women in their 30s. They brought along a boom-box now blaring the Four Tops, James Brown et al in the Upper dining room. Sing along and foot falls filled the inn. Frank looked at me, shrugged his shoulders, broke into a wicked smile. Pointing upward, "Let's dance."
Frank was one of the greatest people I have ever known. He was kind, thoughtful and always brought happiness into the office. We miss the joy and light he brought into every shift he worked.
"I've followed several traditions in the short 52 years I've wandered this little green planet. But they all believe in honoring the dead. That what we say about them matters a great deal. That we wish them well... moreThese are the collection we have so far-
"I've followed several traditions in the short 52 years I've wandered this little green planet. But they all believe in honoring the dead. That what we say about them matters a great deal. That we wish them well and, in turn, the honoring of their memory allows their spirit to watch over us, to bless us as we walk on without them.
So I invite you to share your memories of Frank...
He is with me every day. Frank was a master craftsman and valued things that spoke of great care and attention to detail. Every day I grab the pepper grinder he gave me. Every day, I grab the All-Clad saute pan to whip up a little food. It's a brilliant pan- when the apocalypse comes and I grab my go bag, I might just snag that pan as well. Cook up some rabbits on the trail. Knock the heads off some zombies- it has a long handle and excellent heft.
I say these silly things because they speak to Frank's generosity. He was always generous with his time, his friendship, his love and appreciation of beautiful things. He chose a life of service at a point when most folks are more focused on when they get to retire.
The Lakota believe that when we die, we walk the ghost road for four days. Walking the Milky Way until we get to the little old lady who takes a long hard look at us to see what we did with our lives.
So whatever your tradition, honor it. Light a candle, say a prayer, throw some tobacco around. Raise a glass (the spirits seems to like alcohol as much as we do so don't forget to pour a little for them as well). Throw all your clothes in a big pot of black dye, if you're feeling Victorian.
Ceremony and ritual (whatever your construct) are deeply important. Let's honor our brother on his journey- I have no doubt he'll charm the little old lady gatekeeper." Tara
"During my indentureship at the Naked Gulag, I hatched a plan to drink “Cugat,” my nickname for Frank, out of house and home. Fortunately for Frank and unfortunately for me, I never quite managed to pull it off. We did however sample some wonderful wines! When Claire began breeding Labs, Frank built us our first whelping box. When Joel Arwein (Sp?) made my son Josh an unbelievable wooden replica of a Kentucky Long Rifle, Frank crafted an equally beautiful gun rack for it, so it could hang on Josh’s bedroom wall. Frank was what I call good company!" Bush Nichols
"I have many fond memories of Uncle Frank going back to my childhood. Some of my favorite memories involve Frank's special traditions whenever we would visit Markham. Frank once met us at Dulles Airport in his pickup truck, early in the morning, with fresh chocolate chip cookies. At his house, limeade was a delicious summer drink he would offer. Frank also loved to drive us around on the back roads near his Virginia home. He would slow down near a field where horses were grazing, and tell us a story about a special horse he encountered there years before. Frank's circle of friends was equally special, and it was clearly that he was deeply rooted in his community. The Ashby Inn was a place where many of these friendships overlapped and I recall many wonderful and long dinners there, full of laughter and great food.
Frank had an energy and a vitality all his own. He had great appreciation for the range of skills and vocations people engaged in around him, skills they mastered over time and that represented something unique about them. Frank himself had many talents and boundless curiosity. Those who knew Frank remember his cabinet-making, his cooking and baking, his appreciation of wine, and his delight in discovering a new food, or craft as he went through life. Whether it was building a dining table from bird's eye maple or serving up a slice of nutmeg-scented poundcake, Frank delighted in making the people in his life happy. He wanted to share these discoveries with others, and I think that shared enjoyment meant everything to him.
Frank had deep respect for first responders and what they do every day. As an EMT Frank immersed himself in this demanding career and all of the impressive work it involved. Frank never seemed burnt out or fatigued by the work he did, but seemed constantly re-vitalized by the experience of helping people in need. Frank loved teamwork and going through an experience with a tight-knit group, where each person contributes in ways they can.
Frank loved his family and friends. Frank's strong relationships with his twin brother Chris (my father), with our extended family and with a wide network of well-loved relations were a big part of who he was. Frank's deep roots in his Virginia community were equally important. Frank loved and cared for his friends and maintained these connections over the decades he lived in Markham. Frank will be missed by many, and his zest for life can't be replaced. I will remember him laughing among friends, taking great interest in a story someone is telling, or sharing something he himself had recently discovered. We will all miss our Uncle Frank." Neal Drew
"Frank was a beautifully complex man. He was generous, loving and a great teacher and story teller. But one may forget what an avid flower and vegetable gardener he was before medicine took over home time. His peonies and roses were amazingly spectacular pressed up against his house. I have vivid memories of sitting on these rickety metal lawn chairs out back sipping on Champagne, of course with a view of his vegetable garden. Such tasty tomatoes! That ended when the moles arrived in force. Frank fought the good battle trying everything he could think of to get rid himself of those rascals. He even tried to employ his cat Miss Kitty to help. She wasn’t much of a killer cat. Frank hung a picture of a mole with a red circle and slash mark above her food bowl to encourage her, but to no avail. The memories go on and on.
He is sorely missed. My heart is heavy." Shari Avenius
"He was not of this crazy materialistic fake world , Frank was one of a kind. His carbon footprint ZERO
He had a stackable washer/ dryer He’d go to the laundry every week because his washer broke many year ago but his dryer still worked so he couldn’t justify buying a new set ( couldn’t just replace the washer!)
I loved listening to his latest problems, they were all like that,
It’s impossible to understand." Uriarte
"He was quick to smile and slow to anger. I once watched him get bit in the face by a small dog and he gently placed the varmint down. Blushing a bit and taking a couple deep breaths, he composed himself quickly and held little rancor towards the dog..
It was quite impressive.
He was a man at peace in his own skin. He was present and attentive. He offered me encouragement during hard times and I never doubted his truthfulness or sincerity. He was always kind to my daughter and watched her several times for me.
I have a bowl made by his hands and it has served my family hundreds of times in the last 30 years.
He was brilliant and charming, yet possessed this deep authenticity and modesty.
I remember going to several parties through the years where he was in attendance. He always made each person feel like the party had just begun because they had arrived. Always the host. The mayor of Markham.
He made me feel special.
I feel deep loss.
He will stay with me.
Candles have been lit. Herbs have been burned. Wine has been shared and the little old lady will be charmed." Martha Hughes
"That’s how I see him! That amazing smile.. I don’t think I ever knew him to not smile.
Frank always told me that you should know how to say, “hello and goodbye” in as many languages as a way to let others know you respect and being polite. I loved going to eat at Bombay Bistro with him💕." Stacy Gedney less
Loading ...
