My mother used to say that by the time a person reaches adulthood, he or she will be able to count the true friends they have on the fingers of one hand.

Lots of folks are feeling that way today, following the death of Harlow “Joe” Floyd last Wednesday evening.

Advisor to governors, friend to golfers and fishermen across the state, and a celebrated former teacher and coach, Joe Floyd downplayed his relationship with celebrities such as former President George H.W. Bush and author Stephen King like he would downplay the excitement of landing a trophy rainbow trout. To Joe, everyone was the same: Simply a friend.

I first met the likeable longtime teacher and coach from John Bapst Memorial High School in Bangor when I was registering to tee off at the Katahdin Country Club in Milo on a bright, spring Saturday morning some 26 years ago. As executive director of the Maine PGA, Joe was in charge of the Maine amateur golf circuit statewide. I had to present scorecards to him so he could ascertain my true handicap.

Joe looked at me over his reading glasses then said, “You a sandbagger, Brownie?” Meaning, of course, that the scores he was looking at might have been delivered by a stranger to this tournament director as a mechanism to get a higher handicap.

“I can vouch for him,” came the voice of the club pro, Jud Gerrish, as he was making his way into the clubhouse. With that, I was given a 16 handicap, which meant on most days I’d shoot an 88 or so for an 18-hole round of golf.

Four years later, Joe Floyd and I would cross paths again when I took a job as a high school English teacher and boys varsity basketball coach at John Bapst.

It didn’t take me long to find out how popular this guy was with his history students. And what a teacher he was. His voice boomed through the halls of that old institution, and unless he chose to shut his classroom door, all parties on the second floor had the opportunity to enjoy his lectures.

Once basketball season began in November, Joe teamed with girls head coach Lennie Miragliuolo to form a top-notch teaching and coaching duo. How those kids loved him. As an assistant coach, Joe would never usurp the authority of the head coach, but when the opportunity presented itself, he certainly didn’t miss the chance to instruct, often in a loud voice.

“You know better than that!” he’d holler. “C’mon, think,” he’d say, pointing to his head. “Think!”

Lennie and Joe made a great team. I especially enjoyed the long road trips. I remember how impressed I was on the first overnight trip we took to Vinalhaven. Each and every player – boys and girls – was nestled into the comfort of a padded seat on a John T. Cyr coach bus with a book. Make no mistake about it: Studying on the road was a top priority at this institution for all athletes.

When the boys varsity hoop team played at the Bangor Auditorium, Joe would take his seat at the scorer’s table, enjoying the action after his team played and won, which they usually did in those days.

If we had a lead late in the contest, Joe would push himself away from the table and announce for all to hear: “I’m going home. This one’s over,” which meant, of course, that the Crusaders had begun their end-game strategy. As time passed, Joe Floyd’s exit from a boys’ home game became as celebrated as a Red Auerbach victory cigar. The kids got a real charge out of not only his announcement – he didn’t need the nearby public address system – but also his exit. That was Joe’s style and he did it with panache.

My favorite memories of Joe Floyd will always center around the times we traveled together. My wife Shelly and I will always cherish the trips we took with him to such wayward haunts as Salina, Kansas, where my Eastern Maine Community College Golden Eagles hoop squad participated in the National Small College Basketball tournament in 2000, following our Maine Small College Conference championship.

What a time Joe and Shelly had touring the area and viewing the sights while I attended practice. From the Greyhound Museum to the Dwight D. Eisenhower Presidential home, they took it all in like the excited tourists they were. From the day I began working with Joe in 1983 until the day he died last week, no one outside of my immediate family was more loyal to me in my coaching career and in my life than this guy – no one.

If Joe Floyd called you friend, then you were truly blessed. Some friends come and go, but Joe was always there in a pinch or just to enjoy your company. Those of us who called him friend are saddened by his passing. In my life, I’m not sure there will ever be another one like him.

NEWS columnist Ron Brown, a retired high school basketball coach, can be reached at bdnsports@bangordailynews.net