Frank Forshee Cook

Frank F. Cook, 59, passed away on October 2, 2014, in Jupiter, Florida. Frank was born July 22, 1955, in Chillicothe, Ohio to Donald F. Cook and Dorothy Hopkins Cook. His father, a chemical engineer, moved the family several times before finally settling in Satellite Beach where Frank attended Satellite Beach High School and discovered his lifelong passion for surfing. Frank attended the University of Florida where he majored in Biochemistry and minored, with his best friend Ray Christian, in Rush Week Party Crashing, coursework he continued into medical school before receiving his M.D in 1980. His devotion to medicine was inspired by a singular incident at Blue Springs, Florida, when, as an undergraduate, he rescued and resuscitated a diver. Frank knew then that he would devote his life to helping others through medicine. He completed his Orthopedic Surgical residency at University Hospital (Shands) in Jacksonville where he met the love of his life and wife of 31 years, Julie. While in Jacksonville, with his party-crashing technique since honed to perfection, he and Julie once dressed to the hilt, rented a limousine, waved gaily at the gate guard as they glided past, and thoroughly enjoyed a swank riverfront party where a friend was playing in the band. Their friendliness with the band contributed to their unmasking, however, and they made their escape with Hitchcockian timing as the suspicious hosts closed in. In 1985, Frank and Julie moved to Los Angeles where he completed a fellowship in Sports Medicine at the Kerlan-Jobe Clinic in Englewood. They moved again in 1986, this time to Jupiter, Florida, where Frank entered into private practice specializing in Sports Medicine. Four years later he co-founded Palm Beach Orthopedics Institute, serving as its president for 10 years. In 2009, Frank opened a private practice limited to sports injuries and arthroscopic surgery of the shoulder, elbow, knee and ankle. From 1990 until his death, Frank was ably assisted by Sally Baldwin, his long-suffering assistant and gatekeeper, who gamely endured his cornball sense of humor and total aversion to punctuality. During his career, Frank was Orthopedic Consultant to the Florida Marlins, Montreal Expos, St. Louis Cardinals, and LA Dodgers professional baseball teams. His approach to patient care always followed the advice given to him as a young medical school student over a sack lunch by Philip Posner, Ph.D.: “Listen to your patients – they know what is wrong with them”. His passion for physical fitness training as well as multiple sports – running, biking, swimming, baseball – made Frank ideally suited for orthopedic medicine. An athlete himself, Frank understood his patients’ frustration with the recovery process and their impatience to return to the arena. Dressed in one of his trademark Hawaiian shirts for office visits, he was at one with the passion that drove his patients to push themselves. Everyone who knew him recognized that Frank’s first love was medicine, but it was closely followed by his love for the ocean, and primarily surfing. Always in search of the perfect wave and the perfect rum, he traveled to many exotic locales including Mexico, Barbados, Hawaii, Nicaragua, Indonesia, the Maldives, Tobago and Australia. He was devoted to his community, serving as a board member and President of the Xanadu HOA, volunteering as a poll worker for all state and federal elections for many years, and serving on various committees at Jupiter Medical Center, where he was former Chief of Surgery. As a weekend warrior, many of his Saturday mornings began in his beloved 1989 black Dodge Dakota convertible truck, its radio blasting Jimmy Buffett tunes and a jacked-up muffler announcing his arrival long before he pulled into the driveway, the truck’s bed piled with supplies for his most immediate project. A dedicated do-it-yourselfer who believed in being prepared, his garage was an archaeological mecca for explorers of hardware stores and surf shops. His backyard, hand-crafted shed overflowed with hurricane shutters, rock climbing pads, a full set of Olympic weightlifting equipment, and a tangle of hanging scaffolding. In fact, one of his favorite after-hours past-times was moving scaffolding around the family home, often 3 stories high, patching, painting, installing hurricane shutters, and draping countless strings of mismatched Christmas lights. His love of the outrageous, especially in costume, was well known. At this year’s black-tie JMC gala, he surprised the elegantly clad guests, including his wife, when he chose for his ensemble an authentic French Legionnaire uniform complete with epaulets, medals and braids. But his diverse interests and intense passions paled before the greatest revelation of his life, the arrival of his son Skylar and the enormous love he experienced as a father for his son. Skylar was unquestionably Frank’s pride and joy, and his greatest accomplishment. Frank is survived by his wife, Julie Shrewsbury; his son Skylar Cook; his mother, Dorothy Cook; two brothers, Eric Cook (Rebecca) and Andrew Cook; godchildren Michelle Williams, Mallory Rogers, Sydney Rogers, Tess Hanemann, Cole Hanemann, and Courteney Zboyen; and an extended family of in-laws, nieces and nephews. He was predeceased by his father, Donald F. Cook, a brother, Stephen Cook; and his baby sister, Nancy Cook Brocke. A memorial service is planned for Thursday, October 9th, at 1:30 p.m. at Jupiter First Church, 1475 Indian Creek Pkwy in Jupiter. A reception will follow in the Narthex. In lieu of flowers the family asks that you consider a memorial donation to one of the following: Surfrider Foundation, PO Box 6010, San Clemente, CA 92674-6010 (http://www.surfrider.org/take-action/support-surfrider); University of Florida Foundation, 2012 W University Ave, Gainesville, FL 32603; Jupiter Medical Center Foundation, 1210 South Old Dixie Highway, Bldg. East 1002, Jupiter, FL, 33458. Frank Cook was one of a kind -- a unique soul whose joie de vivre inspired all who met him. He left this life on a beach near his home, on the shore of the ocean he loved. Those who knew and loved him best can easily imagine the whisper of his final farewell: “The ocean is calling and I must go.”