There's a family without a good husband and father today.

There are university students with one less champion today.

There's a community short a leader today.

There are friends with one less good friend today.

There are foursomes missing a pal today.

One man was all of that and more, and he died on Saturday.

His name was Richard John Randall, but he was Dick to all who knew him and many did.

He was in the news in recent years when he came out of retirement as a long-time University of Maine at Augusta professor and administrator to advocate for UMA's important role in the system's future, and that led to his next role as UMA's president. During his presidency, he was instrumental in reaching a compromise that maintained UMA's identity while also moving the much-valued local institution to higher academic standing.

Randall, who was a 65 when he died of esophageal cancer, stands out in our minds even more for those rare attributes in a public figure: humility, decency, a self-deprecating sense of humor and a dedication that asked for no recognition.

Randall, who was a 65 when he died of esophageal cancer, stands out in our minds even more for those rare attributes in a public figure: humility, decency, a self-deprecating sense of humor and a dedication that asked for no recognition.

We remember a speech he gave to the Kennebec Valley Chamber of Commerce a few years ago, during the UMA controversy, for the warmth and genuineness he expressed about the students. Most UMA students do not come directly from high school; many did not have top-notch high school records. They got back on the college track because they wanted to make a better life for themselves.

Dick Randall appreciated that and admired this students for their perseverance. And it was clear he would do whatever he could to help them succeed.

Nothing became him so much as how he and his family handled his long illness. His children and his wife, Mary Elisabeth, also a UMA teacher, were models of bravery, support and openness. Gaunt and weakened from the disease and its treatments, he nevertheless gave the 2007 convocation welcoming address and later greeted faculty and friends at a reception where Mary Elisabeth and their children kept loving watch on his stamina.

Friends at the Augusta Country Club were hoping to see him back on the first tee this summer, ready to boast about some miracle club or other piece of equipment he bought that was going to improve his game, although he played pretty well without that sort of help. When the new club would fail to produce a 250-yard drive down the middle, Dick would laugh the hardest.

That's how we choose to remember him -- loping down a green fairway on a sunny day with the promise that the next shot would be perfect.