Good bye and resurrection blessings to my Dad. I'll not waste any time with preamble and just get straight to the Eulogy text that was a collaboration between Mom, Mike, Andy, Mary, and myself. Mike bravely and expertly delivered it today at the funeral service that we held at Our Divine Savior.
It’s hard to adequately pay tribute to Dad’s life in the time that we have together. Most of you knew him well enough to know the reasons why. After Dad passed the five of us had a few days, a few really good days, to collect our thoughts and memories of Dad. My challenge today is not what to put in, but what to leave out.
And we’ve collected not just our own thoughts, but we’ve heard from many others. Folks who have known Dad for years, going back to his earliest days in Tifton and beyond.
Some folks have praised his work ethic, and how he was an example of a man dedicated to his job and worthy of recognition for what he did in his career. And that certainly is true. But if that’s all you knew about him, you didn’t really get the full picture.
Dad liked to downplay his intelligence, but his professional accomplishments and the respect of his peers reveal that to be misleading. He was outwardly humble, and that was real, but he was very proud of the work he did and he would tell you about it. But only if you asked.
Dad had some complexities, and even a few contradictions. Some of our friends growing up told us they were “terrified” of Big Ken. And yes, he didn’t suffer fools well or put up with much misbehavior at home. He could come across as stern and impatient, but that wasn’t the real Dad. He was really a softie, and his dry wit and sense of humor came through, the better you knew him. Those qualities weren’t always obvious at first but for those lucky enough to know him well, they were easy to see. Good for you if you were ever on the end of his teasing, when you saw the twinkle in his eye while he was giving you that side-mouthed chuckle. He was laughing with you, not at you.
You were luckier still, if you ever got to play a game of Hearts with him (“better watch him”) or spend the day on the golf course with him, or best of all, if you got to hear him cut loose with his Yodeling. Whenever you heard that it was a spontaneous release of joy in whatever he was doing. We heard it a lot in the corn field, sometimes fishing on the Gulf, and sometimes in the backyard or in random moments in family settings. To Mom’s credit, she initially tolerated and eventually grew fond of his fake crushes on Dolly Parton, Linda Evans from Dynasty, and Veronica Hamel from Hill Street Blues.
In the last few years as Dad’s dementia began to worsen, Mom loved to tell us about those moments when, in spite of his confusion, the “Real Kenny” would come out. Just a few weeks ago when she told him she might be late coming in the next day, he looked at her and replied, “Well what Kind of Crap is That?” In our visits to Cypress Pond we all had those moments when we would lock eyes with Dad and know that he was looking right at us and knowing exactly who we were. I have to admit, until Dad stopped wearing his glasses and I took the time in those moments to gaze directly into his eyes I never realized how beautifully blue they were.
During the last few years everything came full circle for all of us. We all learned to love Dad in a brand-new way, caring for him as he had cared for us as kids and into our adult lives. We all agreed that this was the sliver lining of his decline. Mom said that caring for Dad every day truly sustained her, and it was a beautiful thing for us to know that. And we can’t really express our gratitude to Phil and Buster, and to David from next door, for coming to Dad’s aid, and Mom’s aid, any time anything was needed.
During his better years Dad wasn’t immune from anxiety and stress brought on by worrying. Here too was another blessing at the end, because we watched Dad truly “Live in the Moment” each day, without concern for the past or the future. But let’s talk a moment about that worry. He would always tell us to “Be Careful” or he’d express concern if we were about to embark on anything that seemed strange to him, or that, quote, “Made Him Nervous”. For the most part that was a little tiring to us as teenagers and even as young adults. But it was Mom who helped us understand that that was Dad’s “Love Language”. That was Dad’s way of being a provider, of taking care of us, and really of “Doing His Job”.
Isaiah 30 says “In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength.” Not just at home, but in all walks of life, Dad was a perfect example of Quiet Confidence. Especially for the stuff that really mattered – he never did anything in a showy or boastful way.
And in that quiet and confident way, he was the North Star of our family. In a lot of ways, Mom did the things that were most visible, especially here at church. But Mom told us the other day that she couldn’t have done any of that without him. At some sort of church meeting once, someone asked what Dad’s role was. He said, “I’m a fireman”. When asked what that meant he said, “I have to cool down and reign in a lot of Margo’s ideas.” He was always happy to operate in the background and put himself second.
But make no mistake, Dad was able to make a lasting impression. We heard this week from a couple folks who knew dad growing up and who worked with him as young men. One said that he was a “Moral Compass” and that, “If Ken Martin did it, you knew it was the right thing to do” Another said “Ken was one of the kindest, most sincere, and best-natured men I have ever had the pleasure to know. I wouldn’t trade my experience working with and getting to know Ken for anything in the world”.
J Brian was with Mom when Dad passed the other night. He told us about that moment, but he really could have been describing their entire time together when he said, “to see your Mom and Dad together, with God at the very center of it, was so beautiful. It was a perfect example of God’s plan for marriage.”
And that’s what I want to leave you with today. Speaking for all of us, along with our children, Mom and Dad built a family dynamic that has strengthened and sustained us in ways that we are still discovering. It’s a gift that we didn’t realize we had until we got older and discovered that, simply stated, not all families share this gift. In a vulnerable moment, Dad once told a friend, “I think about my Mom and Dad every day and I hope that I’ve become the person they wanted me to be.” I think he got his wish, because Dave got right to the heart of the matter the other day when he said, “Everything I ever wanted to be as a person, as a husband, and as a father came from Dad.”
We love you Dad, and we’ll miss you. But we look forward to seeing you, along with Ike and Mary, Tommy and Tony, Hazel and Erick, and even Mary Towne, on the Other Side.
