I've read a number of tributes to our dear neighbor and friend, Jim Sauls, over the last few days. So many have been memories from a vast number of friends and colleagues, and have pretty much focused on his professional life and how his values and work ethic have had a wide-ranging influence on all who encountered him.

I have a slightly different view, and it's based on having been his neighbor for many years (I'm thinking at least 30, but that's just a guess).

When our sons were growing up here in Foxcroft, on our little street we were fortunate enough to have many boys - at least a baker's dozen - within three or four years of the ages of our two. Of course, there were a few older sisters and baby sisters (maybe five), but on this one longish block, we had an army of little guys. There were huge bicycle clumps (and those adventures, as recounted to us now, were a little scary), great rotating football groups, Cub Scouts, Indian Guides, carpools to baseball practice - and on and on.

All the parents, with a few exceptions, had full-time jobs and the usual concerns of busy families. We had homework and holidays, aging grandparents and trips to the ER after soccer games, financial worries, small career triumphs, and the constant pressure of making ends meet and also carving out family time. We just lived our lives.

During these years, Coach Sauls was just like the other dads, but maybe even busier. The demands of working in football are pretty strenuous here in the Football South. He was building teams and helping to shape the futures of young men and being a dad and a husband and a son himself.

One thing he was doing while most of us didn't even notice was keeping up with the kids in the neighborhood. And as all of our boys and their older and younger sisters grew and ventured out on their own paths, Jim Sauls never lost track of them. He would always ask, and we would be amazed and a little flattered that he remembered this one's challenges and that one's triumphs, this one's career path and that one's establishment of home and family.

And since we lived right next door, our sons were blessed to see Coach on a pretty regular basis. Even if it was just a brief driveway chat about that weekend's FSU game (any sport, just name it), there was a touching-base kind of thing going on.

And when we lost one of our precious Godfrey Place Irregulars to a tragic and violent incident, we all grieved together.

Today, in our neighborhood, on our longish block, we mourn the loss of a truly good man. We aren't part of the Leon Family (our boys went to a different high school), but here on our street we have a kind of family, and Jim Sauls' passing has left a pretty deep hole there.

Coach, we will miss you.