Early memories of living close to his grandparents are few, but, nonetheless special. His grandfather, Peter C. Barwick, made habit of disappearing, with Ken at his side, for many hours at a time. Mostly to take long walks. On occasion he Grand dad would have Ken join him for a walk and fail to mention it to Frances. Needless to say, panic would precede relief until the two would reappear. Unfortunately for Ken, that would be the extent of any memory of his grandpa. His grandfather died when Ken was still quite young.

Ken’s grandmother, on the other hand, lived well into Ken’s teenage years, She was his ‘protector’ and had the tendency to take his side whenever his mother or father was handing out discipline. After all, everyone knows that a young boy can’t be held responsible for everything he does. It was surely in those instances when the Martins wished there was greater distance between grandma’s house and theirs.

Lemon meringue pie became a huge favorite of Ken’s. But it had to be grandma’s homemade pie. Whenever Ken thinks of his grandmother, his thoughts of her always manage to include her kitchen, and eating that wonderfully delicious lemon meringue pie. No one could make it better. After many years, Ken still had vivid memories of that pie, so much so that he had his mother write out the recipe for him. He was flabbergasted when he showed the recipe to his wife, Cheryl, and she began laughing at him. Turns out that Cheryl’s recipe for lemon meringue pie was exactly the same as his grandmother’s age-old recipe. He will readily admit that Cheryl’s pies are great, and he isn’t looking for a new supplier for his cravings, but there’s still something about ‘grandma’s pies’ that will never be equaled. Perhaps it was the aura of grandma’s kitchen.

While Ken was growing up, he sometimes wondered why some of the other kids were touting their latest and greatest toys, and he was usually still hanging on to what he had. The Martins were never very wealthy, but nobody ever went without. The children always had food and clothing, and were never, ever in need for anything. It would be some years later before Ken could look back on those early years and realize that any extra money that was left after paying the bills and buying the bread, was always put toward building materials for that warm and cozy house that his folks were building.

Ken attended Rothschild Elementary School for Kindergarten, then went through the first 3 elementary grades at St. Theresa’s Catholic School, just down the street from their house. He felt a bit left out that most of his neighborhood friends were still at the public school. Maybe that was the reason why his parents to placed him back in the public school. Or maybe they just let him think that was their reason. Whatever their reason, it was okay with Ken.

Once back at the public school, most everything was generally rather good. There was one problem to deal with, and it took Ken a couple of years to work it out. Seems as though Ken was usually the guy that wound up being the focus of the school bully. He was constantly being tormented, and he needed to do something about it. When he entered the 6th grade, he opted to join the wrestling team, hoping to improve his stature as well as his status. It Worked!!

Ken wrestled his way all throughout his remaining years in school. He excelled in the sport and, through wrestling, developed a great deal of self-esteem and self-confidence. And, no one ever tried to bully him again.

In a manner similar to that of his parents, Ken turned a friendship into a lifelong commitment when he married the girl from across the street. Cheryl WIDULE and her family moved across the street from the Martins when Ken was in his freshman year of college. They began by sharing the commute to and from the University campus in Wausau. The following year, they transferred to the campus in Madison, where they soon realized that two heads are better than one. They successfully completed college, and, on June 13th of 1981, they were married.

They made Wisconsin their home until 1979. It was while they were on a vacation/honeymoon in Dallas, Texas, that they decided to settle in the Longhorn State for good. While enjoying their leisurely vacation, Ken discovered the incredible job market that the city of Dallas offered; newspaper classifieds, thick with “Help Wanted” ads. It was only a few days after they’d begun there vacation that Ken made arrangements for, and appeared for an interview. He couldn’t get back fast enough to tell Cheryl the good news. He accepted an entry-level position with Moore Business Forms of Dallas, and would start in just a few days. He put Cheryl on a plane back to Wisconsin, and followed her a few weeks later. He arrived back home to find that Cheryl and his father had already packed up all their worldly possessions in a U-Haul trailer, ready for the trip to their new home.

Ken is skilled in the ‘high-tech’ world of computers. His focus is primarily in the sales end of the business, where he has been involved with Moore Business, Microsoft, Apple Computer, as well as a few others. His dreams in college of becoming a graphic artist, working in the animation department for Disney had evolved into the realities of building a secure environment for his family. And family would be the name of the game. After numerous miscarriages, Ken and Cheryl finally started “filling their nest”.

The Martins have five children. They are, Matthew James, born January 3rd, 1991, at Presbyterian Hospital, Dallas; Mallory Jean, born at Presbyterian Hospital, Dallas, on April 16th, 1993; Madeline Joy, born November 26th, 1994; and last but not least, twins Mitchell Joseph and Mackenzie Jo, born July 26th of 1997.

Ken still manages to indulge in a few of the pleasures he so much enjoyed growing up. He likes to hunt and fish, although fishing is reserved for the annual 2-week trip back to Wisconsin. His greatest passion, deer hunting, has been a tradition for Ken, and he tries to make it each year at least once. He looks forward to the day when he can expose his children to the ‘sacred ritual’ of the hunt, and perhaps see his passion begin to appear in them as they grow.

Read Ken's Obituary