Today, we gather not just to mourn the loss of a beloved dad, husband, and friend, but to celebrate a life that touched us all deeply. A human of diverse passions and talents, my father left an indelible mark on our lives and on our hearts.
As we reflect on the life of Peter Louis Martin, we are reminded of the joy, wisdom, and beauty he brought into our lives, influencing us in countless ways. His love for music, photography, and the capture of life's moments reveal the depth of his curiosity and his desire to record the essence of the world around him.
As we share these memories, let's remember the vibrance with which he lived his life and the legacy he leaves behind.
A Life Shaped by Music
My father's love for music guided much of his life. He often recounted how a high school teacher's invitation to a Segovia concert in the 1950s opened his eyes to the worlds of classical and flamenco guitar.
A favourite aunt introduced him to the harmonious sounds of Paraguayan music, igniting a lifelong passion for world music, including the Trio Los Paraguayos.
Jazz found its way to him through Uncle Bill, a crooner who mingled with top jazz artists and frequented iconic venues like the Montreal Bistro and George's Spaghetti House in the 1950s and 60s. This backstage glimpse into the jazz scene profoundly influenced him.
I recall his weekends spent recording mix tapes on his reel-to-reel tape recorder, a meticulous 3-hour selection of eclectic artists from Gordon Lightfoot, to the Beatles, Elton John and Queen with other influences including the Dave Brubeck Quartet, Stan Getz, Bill Evans, and Paul Desmond.
His musical journey continued into the 2000s, culminating in a compilation of his top 500 songs across genres, preserved on CDs that remain a part of our family's legacy.
The Photographer
Photography was another creative passion of dad's. The Yashika Pentamatic, a thoughtful gift from my mother in the early 60s, marked the beginning of this journey.
His subsequent purchase of a 35mm Pentax and later a Nikon F1 allowed him not only to capture but also to share his vision with us, nurturing our own creative explorations. His lens captured countless family milestones, and through his photography, he left us with memories that are both beautiful and enduring.
Today, as we browse through the photo albums he assembled, we cherish these moments, though we regret the scarcity of photographs with him—always the photographer, never the subject.
The Chronicler
My father's chronicle of his life's journey was nothing short of remarkable. In transferring his files, I discovered journals dating back to 1971. These writings, rich in detail, offer us a glimpse into the experiences that shaped him and, by extension, us.
They underscore his meticulous nature and his commitment to preserving memories, allowing us to relive those moments and feel connected to him once again.
As I recently explored my dad's journals, I discovered entries from our memorable family trip to Florida in July 1980. His detailed accounts brought back a flood of memories, including the humorous and the poignant, painting a vivid picture of our adventures.
We embarked on our journey from Ajax on July 20th, with stops along the way, including a memorable overnight stay in Lima, Ohio. My father's entries meticulously documented each stop, from Lexington, Kentucky, to the sights of Silver Springs, Florida. Yet, it was the unexpected moments that truly captured the essence of our trip.
One such instance was our encounter with the red tide at Bradenton Beach, an event marked by stinging eyes and throats but met with our family's characteristic resilience. Our adventures at Disney World brought equal parts excitement and chaos, notably when Lisa momentarily found herself "lost" during our water slide escapade.
How would we know that the newness of the Pontiac Lemans would play such a pivotal role in this trip? One unforgettable moment occurred heading home as we drove through Georgia in sweltering 103°F heat, only then realizing the rear windows of our car did not roll down.
A revelation that, in hindsight, brings a laugh and a shake of the head. The malted milk at a nearby Howard Johnson's motel/restaurant did not solve the matter, and I rode the middle seat the rest of the afternoon feeling very under the weather.
As mom and dad would say for years afterward, "how were we supposed to know?"
The Cover Boy: CNE 1958
In August 1958, a 15-year-old Peter Martin found himself on the cover of Weekend Magazine. A photographer named Paul Rockett followed Peter and his friend Anne Bilawski through a day at the Canadian National Exhibition for a feature titled "The Ex Marks The Spot."
The article captured the magic of the CNE through teenage eyes: "Along with birthdays, Christmas, the last day of the school year and other such gala occasions, Toronto youngsters add one more red-letter day to the calendar. It's the annual day at the 'Ex'—the Canadian National Exhibition, which runs the latter part of August and into September."
Peter and Anne arrived shortly after the gates opened, seized at once by "Exhibition fever"—crowds, balloons, flags, the shouts of barkers, snatches of music from the rides, the smell of hamburgers and cotton candy. They spent the morning touring the buildings, saving the best for last: the Midway.
The photos show Peter trying carnival games ("offered another chance to win a panda doll for the young lady—but, wiser now after the experience of tossing dimes at the slippery plate, he firmly declines"), getting silhouette portraits cut, posing in the hall of mirrors, riding the Ferris wheel, and finally collapsing on a bench at day's end, surrounded by souvenirs—a big panda bear, an enormous balloon, a red hat, and "four tired feet."
The article concludes: "The long day ends, but before spending their remaining few cents on carfare, they collapse on a bench. Then, with souvenirs and memories, they head for home."
Family and Legacy
Beyond these adventures, my father's journals reflected his deep commitment to family and friends. His efforts to document family history, support loved ones in their time of need, and forge lasting connections spoke volumes about his character.
He was a man rooted in tradition yet always reaching out, bridging distances with his warmth and kindness.
In closing, sharing these moments has been a tribute not just to the memories we made, but to the person who made them possible.
My father's life was a combination of love, laughter, and the relentless pursuit of knowledge. Though we miss him dearly, his spirit and legacy live on through the stories he left behind and the lives he touched.