Julio Martinez's Obituary
If you knew my dad I think you would tell me to write a book about his life. Today I will say but a
few words about a man I revere so deeply and who I am proud, but also lucky, to call my father.
Now, before I share more, I would like to say that the perspective I share of my father is my own
and from my own experience. My father lived a long life, 90 years, and although he was full of
love, he was also at times a tough and complex man and I’m sure there are others who may
differ in their opinion of him. I admit, my experience is only that of when he was an older man.
Afterall, I was born when my father was 55 years old. My father had already lived a full life
before I could ever call myself his son, and consequently there must be much I don’t know
about him. Regardless of anyone’s views however, this day is to celebrate him, to remember
him, and to cherish all the good he was able to bestow upon those around him during his life.
Now those who really knew my father, know one thing for certain, my father was of a rare breed,
a hard working breed, with skin like leather, and hands like sandpaper, tough as nails,
competitive, intelligent, and feared nothing. As a side note on his hands, my father never hit me,
let alone said anything to me that would offend me, we had a relationship with deep respect for
each other. However, one and only one exception to this was when I was 6 years old, I was
outside playing in the yard at the home in Sylmar with my neighbors and I said a bad word. My
sister went inside and told on me to both my mom and dad. I remember being called into the
house. My father looked at me and asked what I was saying. After denying it, he slapped me,
and let’s just say I will never forget those sandpaper hands. Believe it or not, that would be the
first and last time my father ever hit me. Even with his rough exterior, my father was deep down
a very loving man, who gradually developed a warmer and more loving countenance as he got
older. However, this love that became more evident as he became older, was not new. It is clear
to me that my father always had a great love for many people in his life. This was demonstrated
by his generosity in helping others with his time and energy. He was also quick to help people in
financial difficulty. I remember many times in my life, going to Costco, filling up the bed of the
truck with food, and delivering it to family during difficult times. I remember oh so many times my
father would give cash to family members who were in desperate need. I remember delivering
firewood to friends on many occasions. My father also often took his tractor to neighbors’ homes
to help with large projects that would save them time and money. My father was not just a
working man, but a good neighbor, a helping man, a loving brother, father, and husband.
My dad was truly a man’s man, he loved big trucks (in fact one of his trucks was so big that the
set for Gone in 60 seconds (the movie) called him to rent his truck for the filming of the movie.
My dad loved hunting and being up in the mountains in Colorado in the snow.
Above all however, I admit, my father was someone who most enjoyed being outside working. I
am lucky enough to witness working by his side ever since I could barely walk and probably
even before that. Each summer I would get to experience the life my father lived. As soon as
school would get out, and summer vacation was starting, my father would show up Saturday
evening, and ask me “are you ready”? He was of course asking me if I was ready to go with him
to San Fernando Valley for the summer. By Sunday evening, we would make the two hour drive
to our home in Sylmar. Each morning my father would wake up at 4am, drive to his yard, North
Hills Recycling, open the gates, and warm up the tractors. We would work until about 7pm
depending on the day and repeat the next day, Monday through Saturday. Some days were
slow, and my father would slouch and doze off in his chair, and others were busy, my father
would be directing traffic, on the caterpillar loader tractors loading the semi trucks with wood
chips. After work, we would have just enough time to eat dinner, shower, and go to bed. What
was for me 3 months out of the year sometimes felt like an eternity. Yet this was my father’s life
all year long and for years, and he never complained, in fact he really loved it. Just to tell you
how much he loved being outside, each Saturday evening, we would drive back to our home in
Escondido to visit my mom and sister. You might think this would be a time to relax and take a
break from work. Well each Sunday morning, my father would come into my room while I was
sleeping and bang on my drumset and say it’s time to work in the yard. We have a lot to do
today so we better get started. So we would work in the yard, luckily after a few hours, I would
have church to save me from the yardwork for an hour or two. By the time Sunday evening
came around, we were back on the road to San Fernando Valley. This was my dad’s life.
Neverending work, he lived and breathed it. For him, it wasn’t just for money, it was a way of life.
Now why do I tell you this? Well I want you to know about the man who raised me. A man who
woke up at 4am every morning and never used an alarm clock. A man who was always on time,
and even 15 minutes early to every appointment. He was a bit of a soldier, maybe more of a
sergeant at times but in a very admirable way. Extremely disciplined, committed, enduring, and
full of energy and excitement to get things done.
My father came from a small town, Mechoacanejo in Jalisco Mexico, not far from
Aguascalientes. Born in 1932 the oldest of three. With a younger brother and sister. Legend has
it, he was working since he was a little boy to earn money so his family could eat. He moved to
San Juanito Jalisco on his own to pick corn, peanuts, and beans when he was the age of 12.
Two years later he moved back home to be with his mother, she was sick, and died soon after
he arrived at the age of 14. There he worked on planting peppers, watermelon, corn, jicama,
cilantro, spices, and cabbage with his dad with their own well. At the age of 16 he moved to Los
Angeles and after working odd jobs, finally found himself a stable job working as a dishwasher
at the Hotel Biltmore. A few months later, he started working for the city as a laborer recycling
metal and aluminum as a second job when he wasn’t washing dishes. Later on, in 1954, my
father started working as a truck driver with his cousin, big trucks and semi trucks delivering
things from Mexico. He would deliver handmade things of iron, copper, and more. They would
pick these up in Guadalajara and sell them in Ensenada and Tijuana. This you could say was
my father’s first venture, which ultimately resulted in bankruptcy. In 1958, my father was making
a one time delivery of orange crush sodas to Los Angeles. He was driving on the infamous
Rumorosa cliff, because his brakes malfunctioned, he ended up going over. Somehow my father
survived this crash. In standard fashion, this didn’t stop my father, he continued to make
deliveries, and started delivering used wood from Los Angeles to Tijuana. It wasn’t until 1958
that my father started working in construction, so he was 26 years old. He was able to find odd
jobs here and there. During this time he also started a tortilla business to sell tortillas in tijuana.
After several years in construction, he finally managed to get his own contractors license in
1961 and started working his own jobs all over Malibu, Santa Monica, everywhere nearch the
beach, and San Fernando Valley. He grew his team of workers to about 50 people, but this
would fluctuate and at times would only have 9. In 1964 his father passed away. My father found
a real passion for construction, and dedicated himself to building retaining walls with
cinderblocks. He became very successful and my understanding is that there were 3 men in the
valley, where all people from Mechoacanejo and other parts of Jalisco would come and work for.
My father was one of these three men and would be what was for many men their first
opportunity for work in the United States. From what I’ve heard, my father wasn’t easy to work
for. He expected perfection, sometimes even destroying hours of work only to have them do it
again, straighter, stronger, more correct. However, he was honest, he kept his word and paid his
workers well and would often make them carne asadas on the weekends. Finally after many
years of construction, my father started North Hills Wood Recycling with Ramiro Ornelas in
1989. This would be his job up until about 2006. Of course, as you would expect, my father
never stopped moving even after he retired. He continued to work. In fact, a few years ago, my
father bought an 85 acre ranch out in Kern County. There he continued to work on many
projects planting and selling things that he grew. He continued to work on his tractor. It really
wasn’t until he had his stroke in October of last year that things really slowed down for him.
In 2018, about a year after my mother had passed away, my father called me and asked me
what he thought about him one day getting married again. I could tell he was worried and
needed my approval in case that were to happen. He said he couldn't be alone for the rest of his
life. Of course I agreed with him and said whatever you need to do dad I support you in that. I
also didn’t want to see him alone. To my surprise, the next week my dad called me saying he
had gotten married. Of course, I should have known, after all this was my father. At first I was
instinctively protective of my father. Skeptical about who he had married so quickly. But after
getting to know his wife, Amada, and seeing them together I couldn’t be more happy for my dad.
At this time I want to express my condolences to Amada, my stepmother. I have never lost a
spouse but I have lost a mother and a father so if what you are going through is anything like
that I truly apologize for the hurt you must be going through. I truly appreciate the time you
spent with my father. I couldn’t ask for a better person to be with him, to care for him in his final
years and days. You definitely brought joy to him, it was obvious to me. I really hope we can
continue our relationship because you mean so much to me and you are truly my children’s
grandmother.
In closing, I think there are many things we could remember my dad for. I think what I will
remember him for, is as a solid foundation, one who taught me how to love to work, to have
discipline, to sacrifice, and to show love by doing, not talking. That is who how he will live on my
my heart. Thank you!
What’s your fondest memory of Julio?
What’s a lesson you learned from Julio?
Share a story where Julio's kindness touched your heart.
Describe a day with Julio you’ll never forget.
How did Julio make you smile?