Football Counter-Programming 2025: Week 2--Wristwatch

It's been around six or seven years since Dad seemed something like himself. (Which was always a changing perception as he aged . . . which is--of course--true for all of us.)

It's been about four years since Dad gave me his Seiko wristwatch featuring the Pioneer company logo on the black watch face. I knew at the time that he was starting to give things away and begin the slow, symbolic process of saying goodbye.

It's been a little under three years since Dad entered a full time care facility and began slipping away.

It's been almost one year since Dad died. 

It's only been a couple of days since I looked at that the watch on my left arm and realized that I am now definitely past the age that I remember him wearing it every day.

That shocked me. 

We all age and I know when I look in the mirror that I'm no where at all who I was even five years ago, much less fifteen years ago. But to come to the realization that I'm now older than Dad was in my memory . . . when he seemed fully grown and adult and in charge. And I was just a young kid, starting to edge into college and couldn't even see where my life might someday go.

Sure . . . its very logical, since I've already got two adult kids of my own and the third is right on that edge of college where I was in my memory. But it still seems shocking. Because Dad (even when he was younger and especially when he was older and growing to be "less") . . . he was still . . . Dad.

My inner monologue just doesn't see myself as Dad. Even though I've been one for approaching thirty years now.

It just goes to show you that we are all masters at lying to ourselves.

So, don't lie to yourself this Saturday. 

Your participation in today's college football smorgasbord--whether in person or through television--matters not at all. You cannot affect the outcome and your presence in person or in spirit will not be registered by the teams at play.

So do not give it your time.

Do something today where you can tangible affect change.

Wm. Kenneth Martin (January 13, 1939 - October 24, 2024)

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.

Happy Holidays--and smell ya later 2020--from the Martins

(This was our Thanksgiving photo.)

 

What a year this has been! 

This may be the most redundant Happy Holidays letter that I will ever write. Because all of you have experienced some of the same highs and lows this year that I have. And we have all shared some common experiences in the last months that are not true most other years. But even with the trauma and difficulties of 2020, each of us found our way through these months with unique experiences.

Here are some of ours.

It has been almost 300 days since Lynda and I last worked in our office or saw our colleagues face-to-face. It has been almost 300 days since our children . . . (And how much longer can I accurately use that descriptor to capture who they are? Most likely it is already woefully out of date.) . . . had something of what normal days are supposed to be. And realistically, it may be another 200 days or so before we can truly resume what used to be our lives.

None of this was anticipated or expected. Now I feel incredibly self-conscious when I accidentally go outside without a mask. Now I wonder when we will stop wiping down our groceries as they come into the house. Now I strategize when we might actually be able to plan a vacation with confidence and not brace for the inevitable rescheduling or cancellation. Now I can only imagine going on a date with Lynda to see a movie and sit down in a restaurant. So many things have changed in 2020.

The important things are stable however.

All five of us--along with Lynd's mom, Cheri--are healthy and safe and secure. We've worked hard to keep it that way, and it has paid off. We miss what socialization we could have done or the places we should have gone in the last nine+ months. But we did it for a reason. We did it for each other and we did it for others beyond us.

Lynda and I are happy to be continuing in our jobs . . . ever changing though they are. The unknowns of our industry in a changing world. Especially when the schools across the country are so topsy turvy. But we are in positions to help affect those unknowns. And that is a good feeling. I can't truly speak for Lynda, who has experienced more organizational readjustments this year. But through all of that her value and work ethic continues to be appreciated. 

My work continues as well. Each week the team makes further progress toward our multi-faceted goals. I've learned a lot this year and continue to try to get better. I'm proud of what I and my department are doing. These are the things you hope for in a job--steady, predictable, fulfilling.

As for Sarah, Grace, and Hannah? They are taking on the unique challenges of 2020 in their own ways. And they are really succeeding in significant ways. 

Sarah finished her first half of junior year at Columbus College of Art and Design. She stayed on campus for much of the Fall Semester, sharing a four-room campus dorm suite with her good friend Josiah. Classes remain digital. She returned home for the last weeks of the semester to gain some social strength from the family during the pressure cooker of completing finals. That wrapped up this week and she has several weeks off to relax and work. 

Grace is halfway through her final year of high school. She was the drum major for the marching band this fall, which was almost the only reason that we left the house during COVID. I was proud of the safety precautions that the band staff embraced and enforced throughout the summer and the fall to keep the kids safe--stricter than they needed to be! And though it wasn't a full season and there were no competitions to enjoy, it was so much better than nothing at all. It would have been heartbreaking to lose that one last change for Grace to experience a band season with her friends. Right now she is waiting on college announcements and finishing up scholarship applications. Her life will be different in many ways by next fall--and so will ours. But she has earned what comes next. And I look forward to seeing her get there.

Hannah is working her way through 7th grade and we are all trying to figure out the best way to navigate the confusion of this school year. Some weeks she is home. Some weeks she is in school. Every day she is learning how to operate more independently and take on some more responsibility as she ages. These middle school years are a difficult time of figuring themselves out. And it is hard for Lynda and I to guide her while allowing space for self-understanding. COVID makes that even harder. She is stuck with us a lot of the time--and that is not always the best place for an almost 13-year-old to be. But simultaneously (and contradictorily) it is frequently the BEST, most important place for her to be. Each day presents its own challenges, successes, and frustrations. We really are building the car as it drives down the road.

I hope you are able to find some time to catch your breath in the weeks ahead. We look forward to taking some time off from the pressures of work. We won't be going home to see family and that is sad. But it is part of the 2020 experience. I hope we can take some moments to look at holiday lights and find some peace during this season. Our church worships will be virtual, but the meaning remains. 

The days are short and the nights can sometimes be cold. But I want to wrap up this difficult year by remembering the good things that did occur. I'm ready to move out of 2020 and I look forward to a better 2021.

Wishing you the same!

COV139D-19

A smattering of my random thoughts and phrases--some of which were typed into social media and then deleted. Some of which were actually published.

"All I want to do is cry."

"Fuck."

"I've got to . . . something. But . . . As my Pappaw used to say 'Sometimes I think to myself . . . Well?! . . . But then again, I don't know."

I shouldn't be surprised by the delay in school starting. (And to be clear, it's not that school is delayed. It is that going back into the school has been postponed.)

This is not surprising.

Lynda and I spent hours Tuesday night debating whether or not to allow Grace and Hannah to go back into the building for the hybrid model. We considered the 100% digital model (Westerville Virtual Academy.) We thought about the quality of instruction with all options. We weighed the risks. And we finally decided to let them go back into the school.

And then, this morning, the rug was pulled out from under us again.

How many rugs are we standing on these last many months? How many shoes can drop? How many disappointments can we weather?

Hannah will be separated from her friend more. Grace's band season looks even more tenuous than ever--JUST WHEN SHE WAS GETTING INTO IT. Not to mention her challenging AP-heavy course load this year . . .

I just don't have any more energy to think about this today.

I'm so disappointed.

COV94D-19

Family is a difficult business. You know no one so well and no one knows you so well. You do love one another . . . if you’re lucky. But everyone knows how to drive you crazy. Even the simple act of playing a game can lead to hurt feelings. And the hardest thing about family is that everyone knows you so well, and they never let you change. Old assumptions, old traits, old patterns are remembered, repeated, relived. Jokes can cut; the words can sting.

How do you hold onto the love when the daily grind of living wears you out? Especially in these quarantine times when we cannot escape one another. Trying to find something diverting to do on the weekend, playing a game. But all the expectations never go away. Old memories are resurfaced. Hurt feelings that don’t deserve frustration and disappointment. All overwhelm what should be fun and exciting.

COV73D-19

How is your Memorial Day weekend going along?

Today has been a pretty relaxing day but I'm craving some potato chips right now. (Not that you really needed to know that, but I thought I would let you in on that little secret. And the reason I'm craving chips at all is because I just watched a Bon Appetit YouTube in which Claire (the Gourmet Makes host tried to recreate Pringles). 

Do you watch Bon Appetit? That has been one of the new entertainment additions of mine during the COVID quarantine. Grace watched it a lot and I started watching Gourmet Makes. It's a fun twist on How Its Made and Unwrapped and other food-related shows that I like to watch. And once you start watching one personality, its easy to start watching some others.

So . . . yeah. Maybe I'll eat some potato chips soon.

But, what else is happening?

I went for a walk today and that was nice. After so much rain this past week, it has been nice to see the sun and even feel some warmth. But since the Highlands Pool has announced that it won't be opening to the public this summer, I wonder if I'll be setting up the sprinkler in the yard to help cool off? But if I do that, then I would need to prevent people from playing in the water and violating my quarantine.

Speaking of food . . . Lynda and Hannah are attempting to make an extremely difficult pastry from the Great British Baking Show: religieuse. (see above) 

(If they make it out of the kitchen alive and still loving one another, then good for them. I don't even care how it tastes.) 

***

Two other things:

1. You have tonight and sometime tomorrow--until I decide to shut down the Google form and make my reveal video--to cast your final votes on #OfficialHat2020.  You can vote here.

2, My kids spent the morning making an online personality quiz. It is based on Avatar: The Last Airbender . . . because why not? Click here to take the quiz. They designed the concept. They chose the characters. They wrote the questions. They wrote the copy. I like it and I liked the result that I got. Click here to go and enjoy.

COV51D-19

Today was a good day for a few reasons.

First, the weather very much cooperated and it was a pleasure even to be outside cutting the grass. The temperature was warm but not uncomfortable. It was a great day to get outside of this accursed house and pretend that things aren't strange and never-ending.

Second, while outside we had a nice hamburger lunch on the back patio with sweet tea and fixin's and I grilled the burger patties. and it was nice to pretend that things aren't strange and never-ending.

Third, while having our hamburger lunch we spent time with Nana, who came over and enjoyed our nice hamburger lunch on the back patio with tea and the fixin's. And it was nice to pretend that things aren't strange and never-ending.

COV38D-19

I've written earlier in this quarantine streak about how Zoom came out of nowhere to become the online digital platform of this moment. And I've also speculated about how this stay-at-home experience may teach the culture at large about what is important and how we may change as a result of these times and these experiences. Of course, I don't have any way of truly knowing what the future holds. But I am wondering what changes I myself may carry into the eventual post-COVID days.

One is a stronger appreciation of family. Of course, long-time WWYG?! readers know that family is very important to me--both my own Westerville group and my larger family out there in the rest of the U.S. But living several hundred miles away from most of them as I do has created separation and distance. And my adult life has pushed other priorities to the front of daily/weekly living. 

But one that I resolved to do this year--call if an actual New Years Resolution, if you like--, was to reach out more to family on a much more regular basis. That meant calling more often, reaching out for intentionally, and lately actual letter writing. The letter writing part is still in its early days (and isn't only confined to family members). But I was beginning to get into a habit of sitting down on Sunday afternoons and handwriting a letter to someone new each week. For no decent reason, the quarantine disrupted that pattern.

But in its place, my family has instituted a Sunday afternoon Zoom call, where as many of us as can get on the computer and chat for a while. We discuss whatever comes along--haircuts or lack thereof, what we've been watching on Netflix, how the jobs are proceeding, and anything and everything else. It is similar to the catch-up sessions that I've experienced in Christmas family trips, where the first hour of my home arrival ends up with everyone sitting around in mom and dad's living room for an extended chat. But this one happens every week now and not once a year.

I hope that something similar to this will continue in the normal future we all look forward to. Zoom won't disappear when we have good testing and people are able to resume their routine. So I hope that we as a people--family, friends, and loved ones--can keep reaching out to one another and remembering to say: You are important to me. Let's be familiar with each other more. Let's say connected in the good times as well as during the unusual times. 

It won't' need to be weekly. But I think it is beneficial to me.

COV21D-19

I must really, really be getting nuts because of this stay-at-home quarantine nonsense. Because I can't believe what I agreed to yesterday.

We're fostering a kitten.

And not just a kitten. It seems that we agreed to foster a mother cat and several kittens: four kittens, apparently. When this was first brought to my attention, I was only told about one kitten. But I guess they are so small, they can't be separated. Or whatever.

So, after years--literal YEARS--of not letting the kids get pets, we are getting about ten years of pets in one day. I KNOW I'm going to simultaneously regret this and enjoy it. But right now I can only experience the regret. 

And you know what is even better? The cat family is going to be set up in the basement--the very part of the house that I worked hard to make nice and livable for Lynda to work in two weeks ago. I know Lynda and the girls are moving stuff around down there and getting an area set up for the cats to stay in. And part of me just doesn't want to find out what is happening and how my nice space is being completely rearranged.

Of course, up until now, NO ONE wanted to go down in the basement for any reason. And just as soon as I set it up in a semi-decent fashion. (And really it's NOT so great anyway. I just rearranged some furniture and hung a few pictures on the walls to make it seem more human.) But anyway, it's going to become a cat den now. And who knows for how long?

This is only a foster situation. I am NOT intending for these cats to be here long term. But I'm sure that is probably wishful thinking on my part. I guess we'll see what happens.

But the shelter-in-place situation has just been cranked up to a whole new level here in my house. We'll see who survives it best NOW. I just know that the kids have no more reason to complain about being bored.

COV1D-19

(Nothing like a global pandemic to get me blogging again.)

As you all know, things really started to expand and intensify Wednesday night in my part of the United States. Sarah--who had already started her sophomore year spring break was off and on visiting the house. Then her college followed the lead of most others and extended that break for an additional week. The spring semester will start up again on March 23, but it will be digital-only classes through the first few days of early April

Then, on Thursday afternoon things really started to turn into a series of rapid decisions.
Ohio Governor Mike DeWine announced that the whole state school system would close for two weeks starting Monday. Effectively this means that Grace and Hannah's Spring Break got started a week early and will be extended for an additional week. (They are at school today and will go again on Monday.)

Other casualties of all of this:

Grace joined the newly restored Westerville Independent Indoor Drumline group after Christmas has been working on learning drill and music for at least 10 hours per week in January, February, and March. WI had one brief preliminary performance for judges in February but was targeting two late March competitions as well as the Ohio Indoor Percussion Association championships on the 29th. Since Gov. DeWine closed school property to outside practice space usage, the kids had nowhere to continue their practices and finalize the show. Then OIPA officially canceled all remaining competitions in the season because of new "avoid mass gatherings over 100 people" rule that the governor put in place. It's such a shame since the kids put in such hard work and don't yet have an opportunity to perform. Maybe something can be worked out in the future, but that is very much to be determined.

As of Friday Lynda and I are working from home. MHE has asked people to work from home more frequently to help enforce social distancing. Luckily, our kids are older, much more self-sufficient, and we have laptops and digital file access and every advantage required to stay productive and remain in our job flow. SO MANY others have nowhere near this level of flexibility. I pray for small business owners who are going to struggle to be profitable in the near term and for all of the service workers who will be struggling to balance the reality of their economic life with the rising concerns for protecting their health and the health of their social network.

I truly hope that out of this, we have a more informed, more realistic, and compassionate national conversation about how our government safety net can be improved to address the realities of what are being experienced right now. I hope that our nation can move from the rhetorical and theoretical discussions about politics that we often swirl around in and acknowledge the truths of what is happening and what needs to happen in the future.

Lynda and I have also had a few tense arguments about all of this in the last few days.

Lynda--to her credit--has never wavered in taking all of these events extremely seriously, urging the rest of the family to do the same. And while I don't disagree with the seriousness of it all, I tried to express a bit of hope and positivity into the discussion . . . while being in support of caution. I just don't want every statement to be solely focused on the negative. That comes off as casualness or naivete and definitely is counterproductive. I'm going to try to be much more focused on dealing with problems full stop. My opinions are less important than my commitment to problem-solving.

More to come tomorrow, I think. Less listy and more reactive and descriptive. If you have ideas for how I can better blog through this crisis, leave me a comment.