A Farewell to Frank M. Edenfield
By Deborah Bennett

Frank and Euris Edenfield in the early years of their marriage.

On Friday, May 2, the Master Carpenter put the final touches on his beautiful creation, surveyed His handiwork and said, "It is finished." Then, in the twinkling of an eye, the gates of the heavenly mansion swung open wide to welcome Frank Miles Edenfield.

On Friday, Frank climbed into his fishing boat with his fishing partner of many years, C.J. Lane, and the pair set out on what would be their last adventure in the Ogeechee River. It was a beautiful, warm day - great fishing weather - not indicative of the tragedy to come.

Around 1:15 p.m., the boat ran up on a small log in the river and overturned. Mr. C.J. managed to make it to shore. Frank never did. His body was recovered later that evening from the muddy waters of the Ogeechee River that he loved so well.

I like to think that Frank died doing what he loved best - fishing. But that does little to ease the immense sense of loss I feel when my eyes wander to the stack of unopened mail he never picked up from my office basket or when I recall the familiar shuffle of his footsteps coming down the hall and listen for his usual greeting of, "How are you?" as he made himself comfortable in a chair by my desk. It was a daily routine that I will now forever miss.

When the reality of what had happened sank in, I recalled the last time I saw Frank. He had come by the office, picked up his mail and sat down at my desk for awhile to chat. Upon leaving, he suddenly turned around at the door, as though he had a premonition of what was to come, looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, "I love you." I responded with, "Me, too." Had I known that these would be the last words we ever spoke to each other, I would have said more - I wish I had said more.

As most of you know, Frank was the former owner of The Millen News. I followed my husband Wayne and came to work for Frank at the front desk in 1975. We both continued to do so until he sold the newspaper in 1998. Frank once described himself as "the worse damn editor in the world" because nothing controversial ever made its way into the pages of his paper. He reasoned that "bad news travels fast enough." It was a policy for which he was often criticized. I recall that when someone once accused him of "censorship", he roared, "I don't practice censorship. I practice ownership."

After the sudden death of John "Shot" Wallace in July 1998, Frank was crushed. Shot was his neighbor, friend, co-worker and the son he and "Miss Euris" never had. He told me he had no desire to train someone to take Shot's place at the newspaper - that no one ever could. His plan was to sell the newspaper so that he and Miss Euris could spend their golden years traveling and enjoying themselves. They never did. Frank sold

the newspaper in October to Roy Chalker, publisher of The True Citizen; Miss Euris died on Thanksgiving Day that same year; and Frank was never truly happy again. He often told me after her passing that he didn't have a "home" any more, only a "house."

Frank wrote lovingly of Euris in his memoirs, "No memory, no deeply treasured thought, no source of laughter, no cause of tears, is as precious to me as the 49½ years I spent with Euris Rountree. She is my life's deepest love….From the depth of my being, I can say that I miss her deeply. Indeed, she was and will always be the best memory of all."

Frank went by the Millen Cemetery to "talk to Euris" on his way home every afternoon. On Tuesday, Frank made his last trip to the cemetery when, accompanied by family and friends, he was laid to rest next to his beloved Euris. I like to imagine Frank and Euris walking arm-in-arm down the streets of gold. And I know that if Heaven has a river, Frank has already wet a hook.

It seems appropriate to bid Frank farewell in the pages of the newspaper that was such a big part of his life for so many years.

So, I say, "Farewell, Frank, until we meet again, my friend. And I love you too!