Since 1965, Stan Hart and I have been neighbors on Abel’s Hill, coming together for countless hours of socializing, beach time, conversation — and especially tennis. We played as partners and opponents, mostly doubles but we would play singles if we couldn’t get four for doubles.

Stan’s tennis was as close as anything to being a metaphor for his life. If his tennis was good, and he was on a winning streak — life was good. And the opposite was also true.

Stan loved tennis almost as much as he loved women. And women loved him back. In 80 years of living life to the fullest, Stan never lost his charming ways and he never lost the boy in him.

For 40 years, starting in the late 1960s, the nearly daily 9 a.m. Harrison court doubles game was on. I was blessed to be one of the regulars along with Stan, Mike Straight and a gentleman from Alabama named Leo Kayser. Over the years other players were brought into the storied Harrison court game, including Dick Craven, Hans Solmssen, Tony Omer, Bob Kenny and Skip Davis.

Stan had the dubious distinction of being the one who was most often late. Typically showing up about eight minutes after game time, he would arrive with a racquet in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other — declaring in a loud voice that he could start playing — since he didn’t need a warm-up.

And actually, he didn’t seem to need a warm-up. A good player, his game was distinctive in a number of ways. While waiting to return a serve, Stan stood straight with arms at his side. His good hand-eye coordination and general quickness made up for any lack of readiness.

Preferring volleys to ground strokes, Stand spent much of his time mid-court — an area known to tennis players as no man’s land. He was a master of the mid-court volley. Probably his most distinctive shot was a version of Jimmy Connors’s renowned overhead skyhook.

By the time I knew Stan he had left a career in publishing and taken up real estate as a new vocation.

Listening to his frequent updates, it was clear to me that Stan loved and was in his element with a big sale. But he hated doing rentals with all their “picky” details of garbage disposal, breakdowns, etc.

Stan’s was a literary life built on a fascination with words, books and writing. His life intersected with many interesting people — some celebrities, some not, as he related in his last book Significant Others. All of this was retained and held at the ready by a truly prodigious memory.

Another revealing side of his nature was a remarkable lack of interest in things practical or mechanical. For Stan it was a point of pride to know virtually nothing about the functioning of a gasoline-powered tennis roller, or the workings of his stable of used cars.

Once in awhile he would even have a car that never gave him trouble.

And how many times, while driving one of those “gems,” did I see him at the steering wheel with an expression of love and appreciation?

In spite of what might be viewed as a tumultuous life, Stan found the time, the patience and the wisdom to help bring to maturity three remarkable children: Sloan, Max and Sam.

Right to the end Stan was fun to be with and never lost his charming ways.

Known and loved by many in many different ways — Stan Hart leaves a big empty place on the Island.

Don Davis lives in Chilmark and Hobe Sound, Fla.