- November 23, 2024
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Frank Hedrick looks at some of his military honors. Photo by Paige Wilson
Frank Hedrick holds up a photo of him at a Veterans Day ceremony from about three years ago. Photo by Paige Wilson
Frank Hedrick's hat is decorated with military honors. Photo by Paige Wilson
Frank Hedrick has his wartime memorabilia framed. Photo by Paige Wilson
Being fairly new to Palm Coast, I often have to put my subject’s address into my phone’s GPS before I head out to interviews. When I did this for my interview with Frank and Maggie Hedrick, I was shocked to see how close they lived to me: 600 feet away. After walking to their condo, I met a 94-year-old World War II U.S. Navy Armed Guard veteran and his 83-year-old wife.
There was something familiar about Frank, though. His white hat was adorned with military pins and honors, and that’s when it struck me — I had seen him before. A few months ago, I was getting my mail from the community mailbox area at the connecting point of our two streets, when a man wearing this recognizable white hat was attempting to move a large tree branch from the road. I could see he was struggling, so I walked over, offered my help and thanked him for his service in the military. Now, I realized I was sitting in the back porch of the condo next to the same man.
“They were going to call me Earnest, but I’m more ‘frank’ than I am ‘earnest,’ so then they called me Frank,” Frank joked.
Frank and Maggie couldn’t have been more welcoming. They told me about Frank’s four years of service with the Navy’s Armed Guard aboard many ships.
“We rode supply ships all over the world taking supplies to the military,” Frank said.
Frank then traveled to Japan, Morocco, Germany and England with the U.S. Department of Defense’s overseas school system as an instructor for 28 years.
It was during that time that Frank met Maggie.
On a rainy day in London in 1957, Maggie, who still has a distinguished English accent, was walking home from church when Frank pulled up next to her in a car and asked for directions.
“It was just a chance meeting,” Maggie said with a smile. “Like a lot of them are.”
After a little chatter, he asked her if he could give her a ride home. It was a different time then, Maggie said, so she felt comfortable to accept Frank’s offer.
“I said, ‘Well, I just live around the corner,” Maggie said. “So, he asked me to lunch the next day. I said, ‘Sure, fine, but my brother is going to be coming.’”
The two got married two years later and have been together for 58 years.
After moving to Palm Coast about 22 years ago, Frank became a member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars and had the honor of helping place the wreath during Veterans Day ceremonies at Heroes Memorial Park for about five years over the last decade.
Frank showed me a framed display that included a photo of him from his days in the military, plus the official letter documenting his time of service. As he told me about the three times his ship wrecked, I had flashbacks of sitting on the back porch of my grandparent’s house in South Florida, listening to my Grandad tell me about his time serving on a U.S. Navy hospital ship in World War II that often picked up military crew from shipwrecks.
My heart melted as I looked at the memorabilia. This man has lived such a long, courageous life over the last 94 years, and I never would have been able to hear or tell his story if I was not a journalist.
Six-hundred feet. I lived 600 feet away from this man for months without knowing his name or his story. I feel this is all too common for our world, even in a community like Palm Coast.
After the interview, Maggie asked me if I would be passing CVS on my way out. She needed to pick up medicine for Frank, and their car was in the shop after being damaged from Hurricane Irma. I agreed, and I walked home to get my car, thinking about how, during high school, I used to make weekly trips to take my Granny grocery shopping or to CVS to pick up medicine.
Maggie sat in my passenger seat on the way to CVS, just like my Granny did. I appreciated her trust in me. I dropped her off at her condo, said goodbye and drove 600 feet home.
The Observer thought it would be best to save this story for the print issue closest to Veterans Day. But on Nov. 2, I woke up to a voicemail from Maggie’s daughter, Liz Hedrick. With a saddened tone, her voice said that Frank had died last week.
“It was important to my mom to make sure that you knew that,” Liz said in the message.
I quickly sat up in bed as a blend of emotions rushed over me. First, I felt guilty that we hadn’t published the story sooner, that he died possibly thinking that we just didn’t get around to his story, that it wasn’t important enough.
But Frank, your story is important. Your service is appreciated. Thanks to you and Maggie for letting me spend some time with you on your back porch.
