When I first met Paul, he was sitting on a tractor surrounded by a lot of children and a few adults, directing a community project. Specifically, he was mulching the beginnings of the prairie at [the elementary school]. This moment was quintessentially Paul. It had everything---family, children, community, machinery, leadership, and a big project.

Other people here will talk of family. Anyone who knew Paul knew how important his family was to him and how proud he was of [each of them]. Rarely did I walk into a school board meeting without being shown the newest pictures on his Palm Pilot. But I mainly knew Paul through his love of children and community.

Paul believed in community and trailed it behind him wherever he had been. For Paul, we were all in this life together and all children were his children. Whether he was showing second graders the insides of a computer or painting props with seventh and eighth graders or making policy for [the District], each and every child had his attention. Each and every child mattered.

Watching Paul direct [the middle school�s] stage crew was a delight. It takes a brave man to teach a middle-schooler to use a staple gun or other tools. And he loved it. He would stand there, paint-spattered, and beam. He would be there, on the floor, right next to Andrew or Sam or Erica or whoever, demonstrating and explaining. Paul was a patient teacher with a gentle way of letting his crew know just exactly what was expected of them and what was acceptable.

But many people come and help in their own children�s activities. What set Paul apart was that he did it, year after year, whether his own children were there or not. He had a vision of community and he inspired others to share it. My husband joined him and it delighted Paul [the middle school]looking for [my husband] and ran into the principal who asked me whether she could help me. �No,� I told her. �I�ve just come over to talk to my husband. [The middle school]is the only place I can find him these days.� As I turned around, I saw Paul behind me. �Yeah,� he said. �Isn�t it great?� And it was.

Then there was the school board. Being a school board member is a largely thankless job that became more difficult over the time Paul was on the board. In the last few years, school board became a struggle for Paul as it did for all of us. Paul�s heart wept as programs we all believed in were no longer affordable.

Paul originally ran for school board because teachers and parents asked him to do it. He ran for school board because he believed in our schools, in our children, and in our community. On the board too, he loved to explain, sometimes at length, other times at great length. And there too, he inspired others.

I should know. I was one of the others. Paul was one of the primary people who convinced me to run for school board. I had been the PTO representative. I was at every meeting, taking notes and reporting back. In those days, meetings were not well attended and, other than principals, I usually was the only one in the audience. Paul told me that it was time to stop watching and start doing. �It�s time to come out of the audience,� he told me. Doing, not watching, was what Paul valued. It was time to stop riding behind in the trailer and get onto the tractor.

Paul�s heart may have failed him but it never failed us. And if Paul were here today, he would urge each of us to stop riding along and get on to the tractor. He would urge each of us to get involved and to come together for the sake of our children---and of each other�s children and of children we have not even met yet. We love him, we will miss him tremendously, and, I hope, we will honor him with our own actions. It�s time to come out of the audience.

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