John E Martin

John Ezra Martin, 93, passed away on Feb. 15, 2012. Mr. Martin was born Feb. 15, 1919 in Carroll County, Va., the son of the late Daniel Isaiah and Julia Ann Vass Martin. He was a loving, faithful, and devoted husband, father, and grandfather. He served his country proudly as a member of the U.S. Navy during World War II in the Pacific Theater.

He retired from the Norfolk Naval Air Station as an aircraft engine mechanic in June 1972. During his retirement years, he was a true outdoorsman, hunter, craftsman, fisherman, and gardener, who loved to watch things grow. He also enjoyed collecting and restoring antique furniture.

He was preceded in death by his loving wife of 60 years, Lena Gardner Martin; sister, India McNeely; brothers, Junior Martin and William Rush Martin.

Left to cherish his memory are his daughter, Betty Miller; grandsons, Douglas Allen Miller Jr. and wife Pamilyn and Justin Martin Miller; great-grandson, Clayton Ocie Miller; and great-granddaughter, Vivien Lena Miller.

The family would like to extend a special thank you to Glenda Concepcion and Erlinda Budoy of “Dependable Caregivers” and to the staff of Pacifica Senior Living for their love and tender care. Also, a big thank you to John Shomier for being such a genuine friend with his many visits and kindnesses over the past many years.

A service will be held at 11 a.m., Monday, Feb. 20 at Rosewood-Kellum Funeral Home. Burial will be in Rosewood Memorial Park. You may pay condolences to the family at www.kellumfuneralhome.com. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to Children's Hospital of the King's Daughters, 601 Children's Lane, Norfolk, VA 23507.

John Ezra Martin Eulogy

written and delivered by grandson, Douglas "Allen" Miller, Jr.

John Wayne. Charles Bronson. Clint Eastwood.

Tough guys.

Larger than life characters who had true grit.It really wasn’t fair when you think about it. The bad guys never stood a chance.

But -- at the end of the day... they were merely stars of the silver screen.

You want to know what makes you really tough?

Try chewing tobacco for 70 years... and never spit.

Now that’s tough. That was my Grandpa.

When I was small I remember walking into the workshop he had in his backyard. He was busy working a piece of sandpaper back and forth over his front teeth.

As I walked closer, and looked up, I asked, “Grandpa, what are you doing?”

“I chipped one of my teeth... just smoothing things out.”

From my earliest memories Grandpa was my hero. I wanted to be just like him. He was big. Strong. Had lots of fishing poles... and guns.

He had a booming laugh, was great at telling stories and --always in a good-natured way -- loved to tease those he loved the most.

But it wasn’t until I grew a little older that I started to truly understand what strength, toughness and character really meant.

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Like many in his generation, Grandpa didn’t have the easiest of childhoods.

The mountains of southwestern Virginia during the Great Depression offered a living only to those who were willing to work hard for it.

His formal education ended in the eighth grade.

Then, as the oldest son in a family of six, it was all about helping to make ends meet. Long days at the lumber mill and working the family farm filled his teenage years.

He once half-jokingly told me about the time he wore a hole in the knees of his overalls. He was looking for a dime he had dropped on the ground. After all, that was a day’s wages for digging and putting up fence posts.

He always credited his parents, especially his father, for teaching him such a vagarious work ethic.

He was a master at woodworking, and taught Grandpa all about tools. He taught him about the different types of woods... how to build new furniture, and the proper ways to restore old furniture.

He also taught him other things...

Seemingly simple things -- like never talk when someone smarter than you is trying to say something. It’s OK to be quiet... you just might learn something.

Never start a job you aren’t prepared to finish. And always keep your word.

These were life lessons that Grandpa would carry with him forever.

But a good work ethic isn’t all he learned in those mountains.

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Grandpa grew up beside a winding river and amongst rocky pastures, and deep hardwood forests.

It was here that he learned to appreciate nature and developed a life-long love for growing things.

He used to take my brother, Justin, and me back to these places. He showed us the fields he used to plow. He showed us the trees he used to climb. The rocks he used to jump into the river from.

Grandpa taught us how to fish that river, and how to hunt those hills.

But those places were merely the backdrop to the rest of Grandpa’s life.

World War II came -- and he went.

The United States Navy.

It was a long four years.

Stationed in Maui in the summer of 1945, all Grandpa was hearing was talk about an imminent invasion of Japan. He feared the worst. All he could think about was his wife back in the States.

He said numerous times that the happiest day of his life came when he learned that that war was over -- and he was coming home.

In the decades that followed Grandpa and Grandma lived here at the beach. They both worked at the Norfolk Naval Air Station where Grandma retired as a head purchasing agent and he retired as an aviation mechanic.

Together they raised a daughter and would go on to watch their family -- and friendships with countless others –-grow and develop.

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In 2002, after a loving 60 year marriage, Grandma passed away. The love of my Grandpa’s life was gone.

Over the next 10 years, Grandpa would continue to watch his family grow, and he would get to meet his great-grandchildren, Clayton and Vivien.

But something else happened...

As Grandpa’s health started to decline, he would see the fruits of the life he lead, and the love he gave -- pay off many fold.

Always the provider, the leading man... he was finally forced to become the recipient of other’s kindness.

The transition wasn’t always easy.

This once energetic man was paralyzed on one side of his body -- and now confined to a wheelchair.

** There would be no more hunting or fishing trips.

** No more working with wood.

** And the picking of red-ripe tomatoes in the hot July

afternoon, were all but cherished memories now.

There are many who helped him during these sunset years. But a few bear particular mention here today.

Glenda and Erlinda of “Dependable Care Givers”. The care you provided Grandpa over these past few years was tremendous. Thank you.

John Shomier, I think you know this, but Grandpa loved you. He loved restoring antique furniture for you and your father, Hank, all those years.

And, of course, he loved to tease you... A LOT.

[Remember when he used to make me kick your tires? I was probably Clayton’s age.]

Your regular visits meant a lot to Grandpa, and they meant even more to our family.

But the biggest thank you goes to my mom.

There’s an old saying that showing up is half the battle. Well, sometimes showing up is all that matters.

Grandpa needed you to be there. And you never missed a beat.

No father could ask for a better daughter.

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In early 1946 my Grandpa left the mountains... but the mountains never left him.

They shaped who he was in every way a man can be shaped.

** Looking out for your family, no matter the cost.

** Having a deep, albeit, quiet faith.

** Rugged individualism.

** Toughness.

** True grit.

Grandpa, your mother and father called you “Little Johnny” those many years ago.

Like any parents, they hoped that one day you would grow to be a man... that you would pass on the life lessons you learned to your children and grandchildren.

Grandpa, you did well.

Your family is here... and you have left them in good hands.

Your dear Lena is waiting. Go to her.

To quote the lyrics from my favorite Vince Gill song...

Go rest high on that mountain.

‘Cause...[son] your work on earth is done.

Go to Heaven a shoutin'

Love for the Father and the Son.