My name is Melissa Jean, but my dad calls me “M.J.” This is his blog. I started it for him because I want him to have a place to share all the wonderful stories from his extraordinary life. Anyone who’s ever been to a party with my dad knows what I mean. He can spin out a tale like no one else. His stories can be funny or poignant or suspenseful — sometimes all of the above — but they always end with an unexpected twist or a real zinger of a punchline.
My dad, Richard L. “Dick” Martin, grew up as a farm boy from a hard-pressed family with a difficult father. Even today, it’s probably tough for a young man in the one-horse town of Waverly, Illinois, to imagine much for himself beyond working a blue-collar job, marrying young, and raising up a couple of kids. It’s a good, honest life. My dad did all that, but he had a dream that plucked him out of Waverly and landed him in Iran, India, Thailand, Iceland, Israel, Italy, Germany, and many other parts of the world. His blue collar turned out to be a U.S. Air Force officer’s uniform, and his marriage at age 22 has lasted 47 years so far (“45 happy years,” he likes to quip). And my brother and I — well, I can only hope my dad is as proud of us as we are of him.
My father served as a USAF pilot, both in peacetime and during the Viet Nam years. Later, as a member of the 89th Military Airlift Command (MAC), he flew the likes of Gerald Ford, Jimmy Carter, and Ronald and Nancy Reagan on diplomatic missions all over the world. He ended his career as an airline pilot for Pan Am and TWA. He can fix anything. He listens. And, boy, can he tell a story. Now it’s his turn. -M.J.
Me with my dad at my wedding, 7 April 2007
