Sometimes I dread reading the Beacon.

That may sound strange coming from the editor, as I get to see much of the paper before it goes to press. There are few surprises. More and more, however, I’m startled – better said, saddened – by the obituary page. These are people I knew. Some were contemporaries, which is a reminder of my age – and one, whom I knew, lived to be 100, a reminder there can be a lot more to life.

Others, I’m learning about for the first and only time.

I met Lenny Maynard when he was the superintendent of the Warwick Sewer Authority, but it wasn’t until I read his obituary that I learned he was a founding member of St. Clement Church. He died Oct. 5. He was 100.

Through sailing friends Leo Clavin and his son Billy, I learned of Lenny’s love for the sea. Leo signed me up as a member of a six-man crew to sail the 1999 Marion (Massachusetts) to Bermuda race. It’s a race that requires a lot of preparation, and that’s understandable as you’re hundreds of miles offshore and racing around the clock. Sailing to Bermuda can take days – we did it in just under five days, finishing in the middle of a fleet of more than 80 boats.

Leo was intent on establishing a routine and maintaining focus on maximizing the boat’s speed, yet promoting camaraderie and building a team. He allowed the crew to enjoy at least one beer a day, which was kept in a cabinet below deck.

On the third day out – a beautiful day with fair winds and no sign of another boat in such a wide expanse – we detected a barely audible tinkling. The crew was on deck or in the cockpit with safety harnesses clipped on. With the exception of Billy, we tried to guess the source of the noise. It didn’t make sense. Leo sent Lenny, who had been anointed “Mister Fix It,” below to find out what was wrong. He had the answer soon enough. Cans from a case of beer that had been hidden in the bilge without Leo’s knowledge were rolling around. We suspected who might have done it, and as it turned out we all – Leo included – enjoyed more than one beer a day.

Beer cans were also on Paul Earnshaw’s list. Paul targeted empty cans and other litter, including discarded tires, shopping carts and mattresses. As president of the Buckeye Brook Coalition, Paul was the commanding officer of the annual spring brook cleanup that mobilized early in the morning at the Knights of Columbus parking lot alongside Warwick Avenue. The cleanup was truly a community effort of organizations, including high school youth groups and the Boy and Girl Scouts, all working to save one of the state’s few unimpeded streams for spawning buckeyes and herring.

Forty years ago the fish were so plentiful that in their rush to reach Warwick Pond they flopped along the shore. But the spawning run took a dramatic turn for the worse with trawlers clean-sweeping the bay (regulations put an end to that wholesale catch) and contaminants leaching into the stream from the Truk Away landfill next to Green Airport. The landfill was bought and closed by the airport. The coalition brought attention to the infiltration of glycol from the deicing of aircraft, which left an orange scum on the stream. DEM demanded action, resulting in the construction of a system to capture the chemical and treat it.

A good friend of the late Steve Insana, whose love for the brook and knowledge of the Native Americans who once had a summer encampment at the mouth of the brook in Mill Cove were an inspiration, Paul recognized the importance not only of legislation but of community appreciation and investment in saving this resource. Paul rallied volunteers for the annual spring count of spawning buckeyes and kayak excursions from Mill Cove as far upstream as the culvert at West Shore Road.

That was the community face of Paul. I learned much more from his obituary. He died unexpectedly Oct. 1 at the age of 66. I learned of his love for cars and that he retired last year from a 35-year career as a repair technician with Sears and that his passion for cars and motorsports led him to follow the National Hot Rod Association.

Obituaries trigger memories that go beyond a summary of an individual’s life and a list of those left behind. They are an important part of community and a reminder of so much, from an extra beer on an ocean race to saving an environmental asset that so many take for granted.