One thing I enjoy about living on the North Coast is how easy it is to make friends here.

Maybe its the casual atmosphere; everyone is relaxed with a come-as-you-are attitude.

We could be considered a self-selective crowd. We are lured by the beauty (raise your hand if you visited here for the first time on a relatively warm, sunny day) and we stay well, why do we stay?

Cant be because of the great economy; we all know how seasonal that is.

The weather? Well, maybe, when summers are as nice as this one has been. But, unless youre one of those I-love-to-be-at-the-coast-during-a-storm aficionados, winter can be a mind-changer.

Since I moved here more than four years ago, Ive made more real friends than I made living in Portland for more than four decades. I dont have a family, so some of these friends have become like cousins or older brothers and sisters. I have felt welcomed and appreciated. And, in turn, I truly appreciate these people who have come into my life. This definitely has become my home.

It may just be easier in these small towns along the coast to get to know people because everyone seems to know everyone else. Theres always a link, either through work, through volunteer activities, church, recreation. Someone knows someone who you know or who knows you.

You know how it goes.

Yet, for the most part, everyone minds his or her own business. Sure, theres gossip, just as there is anywhere, small town or large. But we tend to keep our distance, let people live their own lives.

The only down side Ive begun to feel about living in a close-knit area like this is that people you enjoy, whom you call friend, tend to move away more often. Or they die, and their death hits you harder than it might in a larger city because their impact when they were living was so much greater in this small community.

Several people lately seem to be moving away, looking for better weather or because other obligations required their departure.

Seaside residents Dick and Khris Frank were among those who moved recently. Dick worked as the librarian in the Cannon Beach Library. I met him when he asked me to volunteer to write press releases. Later, he and his wife, Khris, who taught water aerobics at the Sunset Empire Park and Recreation District Pool, became my buddies during Coaster Theatre rehearsals and plays, especially last fall during My Fair Lady.

Dicks laconic humor and deep laugh, his almost cross-eyed stare through thick glasses and his interest in everything, made him an easy and instant friend. Khris was a great partner for him: Her sincerity and kindness, and her enthusiasm were fun to be around.

But, seeking another adventure in a warmer clime, where housing prices are not quite as steep, they took off to Green Valley, Ariz., recently. As we begin rehearsals at the Coaster for the next holiday play, Annie Get Your Gun, I miss their presence.

This week, two more friends are moving away, this time to Maui. James Dowley and his wife, Lisa Evans, easily made friends in Cannon Beach, where they lived, and throughout the North Coast.

I first met Lisa when she started writing a column for a newspaper I worked at before coming to The Daily Astorian. She also led beach dance sessions, and on my walks, I would often see her jumping and twirling in front of the waves, carried away by the music from her iPod.

Turned out, she lived just up the hill from where I lived. During the Great Coastal Gale of December 2007, when all the lights were out, Lisa knocked on my front door one night, with a headlamp around her forehead and a bottle of wine in her hand. For the next couple of hours, we sat in the dark, exchanging stories. I babysat her cat, Buddy, when she and James traveled to his New Zealand birthplace to visit his family. In the summer, Buddy sometimes would jump into my kitchen when my window was open and say hello. He and my cat often explored the neighborhood together.

A professional appraiser, James appraised my house when I moved to midtown Cannon Beach. But he had other interests as well. He volunteered at Blue Scorcher Bakery and Café in Astoria because he always wanted to learn to bake bread. And, often dressed in a costume of some kind, he helped to sell the Scorchers pastries at the Cannon Beach Farmers Market.

One of the most difficult moves for me is the one David Carlson is about to make in October. I, along with countless other North Coasters, will miss not only his superb piano playing, but his animated personality and incredible knowledge of music as well.

I first met David and his wife, Kay, at a holiday gathering of orphans at the Wave Crest Inn. Then, at the Coaster, David became sort of a lifeline for me as I tenuously attempted songs from My Fair Lady. I am not the best singer in the world, but his encouragement and graciousness throughout rehearsals and performances gave me courage to do my best in the chorus. As a result of his work, everyone sang beautifully, and we all had a great time.

Now, however, he and Kay must move from their Gearhart home, which has been in Davids family since 1919, to Santa Fe, N.M., to care for an ailing relative. Hes looking forward to hearing more music from established orchestras and chamber music ensembles there, and I know that within a few months, he will be playing along with them, providing as much joy to them as he did to us.

Its always possible that we will be able to revisit those friends who have moved away, but those who have died remain only in our hearts. I still miss Rev. Billy Hults and Michael Burgess, the iconic characters from Cannon Beach who could make us laugh with their whimsical insights and make us think with their bits of wisdom.

But this year, there have been others. There was Jay Stewart, who created beautiful pottery in his Hamlet studio. I had a great time interviewing him in that studio shortly after I moved to Cannon Beach and still drink coffee every morning from one of the familiar blue-glazed ceramic cups with Haystack Rock that he turned out by the dozens on his pottery wheel. He was a soft-spoken, deeply religious man who always had a smile and a twinkle in his eye.

Margo Visher forever offered a kind word and unfailingly sent thank-you letters to the newspaper after conducting a local blood drive. Whenever I ran into Irv Levine, he would smile and say something nice. He was just an acquaintance, but I always felt cheerful in his presence.

The same was true for Ben Shaffer, a gentle mail carrier in Astoria whose real passion was performing. He acted in many plays at the Coaster, including Our Town, where, unbeknownst to him, he taught me how to make a scene between two people powerful just by listening to your partner on stage and not acting but reacting in the moment.

While it has been a year of mourning the loss of so many friends, it also has been a year of anticipation for making new friends.

Thats what is nice about living in a community as small and as beautiful as ours. There will always be newcomers and always friends-in-waiting.

Nancy McCarthy is South County reporter for The Daily Astorian.

Her column runs every other week.