Andy Page always looked like he was up to something, and it always looked like it was something good. He was a man with a distinctive spark in his eye, a witty original aphorism to fix most troubles, and a mischievous spirit that emanated from a boundless supply of plain old personable good will.

In short, Coach Page, as most locals call him, was a character in every sense of the wordbut he wasnt a caricature of one. He was a coach, an educator, about the most genuine politician youll ever come across, and for just about everyone who ever knew him a good friend.

Page passed away on Jan. 5 after a brief illness. He was 81 years old. Retired from a 30-year teaching and coaching career that culminated with a lengthy stint at Cullman Middle School (as a math teacher) and Cullman High School (as a football coach), Page was early in his fourth term in the Place 1 seat on the Cullman City Council.

To say that the councils loss is the least among the many that the Cullman community will suffer with Pages passing is no hyperbole. Even the mayors office confessed as much, issuing a heartfelt statement Thursday that focused on the legacy he leaves behind.

The Council and myself know that Coachs spot will have to be filled, but now is not the time to focus on that, said Cullman mayor Woody Jacobs. Now is the time to reflect back on the life of a great man and leader, to thank God for the impact He allowed Coach to make in everyones life, and to grieve with the family.

Coach spoke in a language uniquely his, and had a natural gift for cutting up that disarmed students, strangers, and longtime friends alike. Back in the days when fewer people complained about having thin skin, Coach would pause in the middle of an intense Algebra lesson, get a playful glint in his eye, and ask one of the seated 8th graders: Whore you sparkin? which was Page-speak for going steady with a school crushor at least aspiring to, in that bashful teenaged sort of way.

In math class and on the football field, he had this thing that hed always say, and it always made sense coming from him, recalls former student and longtime friend David Hutchens. Hed say, Its simple; its just not easy. He was happiest when he was trying to teach you something.

Whether in local politics, at church, in the classroom or even in the sweatiest dog days of summer practice, Coach knew how to build trust by balancing the stern with the silly. You always feel a little better when youre around him, said longtime friend Randall Key.

He was such a well-rounded individual. He was kind of a renaissance man. He could talk about having to defend against the option, or he could sit there and talk music. He was like a Siren: He was just fun to be around, and hed just draw you in.

Page could be intense after all, coaching football was in his blood. But it was his lighter side that always shone through to students, and his gregarious spirit served him well after he retired from teaching and embarked on his first venture into local politics.

The guy never met a stranger, says former coaching colleague Danny Miller. Hed make a friend out of anybody he didnt even have to know them. In football coaching circles, everybody just knew Coach Page, even if they didnt yet really know him. I guess thats what helped him become a politician. I told someone, when he first talked about running for city council: That guys never gonna have to introduce himself to anybody. He was just a natural in the way he could relate to people.

Hutchens tells an anecdote that pretty much captures Coachs instinctive knack for making lasting connections with a dose of comedy.

You can talk to 100 different people, and youll get 100 different Coach Page stories, said Hutchens. Mine is from when I was playing football in high school. We were doing a walkthrough at the stadium, and he walked up to me and said, Hey Cotton Top! which is what he always called me.

Page pulled a well-chewed plug of tobacco out of his mouth, made sure Hutchens saw it, and went on.

Hey Cotton Top! If I leave this chew somewhere out on the field, will you help me remember where I put it? Hutchens suggested the visiting teams hash mark on the 25 yard line, so Coach walked over (He did that little quick Coach Page shuffle, he recalls) and left the mangled chew on the spot.

I thought nothing else about it until the next day, when we were out there again, probably 20 yards from where we were the day before, Hutchens continues.

Well, here he came again: Hey Cotton Top! Where did we put that chew yesterday?! and he had that real big grin. He walked over there, picked it up off the ground, and put it right back in his mouth and he looked at me, still with that big Coach Page grin, and just got a sort of satisfied look and started chewing and he just said, Awww, yeah. He was doing it to be entertaining, and it was entertaining. He enjoyed doing things like that, because he knew it was something youd remember and man, I did.

Coach was intelligent with his pranks. The funny stuff came naturally, but it also came from a sharp mind that understood human nature. Page knew that people appreciate seeing the stuffy social barriers that often surround them broken; that they give their confidence to someone whos willing to first share a little bit of their own.

Current Cullman football coach Oscar Glasscock, a former student of Pages, took that lesson to heart early. It was Pages contentment with life; a happiness that he and the late coach Dale Cook, a longtime family friend and another of Glasscocks early mentors, both exhibited that helped Glasscock decide on a direction for his own life.

I had not fully considered coaching and teaching as a profession very much before I got to know Andy well. I wasnt certain about going into it, but I was certain I wanted to live life like he did; like he and coach Cook both did, says Glasscock. Because he was alway laughing; he was always in good humor. He always welcomed you and acted like he was glad to see you and he genuinely was.

Page was born and raised on a farm near Aynor, South Carolina, a small town not far from Myrtle Beach. Ive been fortunate to travel through there a few times, and of course because I knew Andy, Id stop and drive around, says Glasscock. I saw where he played high school football; I saw the fields hed mention in his stories when he used to tell us about chopping tobacco and helping with the harvests. Its coastal and a very different kind of Deep South from here, and its instructive to visit the place where he grew up before he came to Alabama and brought his personality; really his happiness, with him.

Andy took time to talk and listen to anybody; to tell a funny story; to make you laugh and generally feel at ease and seeing that as a student, thats the way I wanted to be, too. I would see that and think, What a great way to live. Im super grateful to have known him and how lucky is this community that he ever showed up here in the first place? How lucky weve all been, to have him come to Cullman; to put down roots in this community; to call this place home.

Graveside services for Andrew Jackson Page will be at 2 p.m. Saturday at the Cullman City Cemetery. Page was married to his wife, Liz, for 57 years. He was a longtime member of St. Johns Evangelical Protestant Church (I knew him from St. Johns as one of the greeters, and who could they have picked whod be better? recalls Key, wholl be singing at Coachs funeral today.) The couple had two children, Jay Page and Suzy Drasheff, and two grandchildren, Mary Claire and Anna Page.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that memorial donations be made to Cullman Caring for Kids, or to St. Johns.

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