This Ernest Martin was my grandfather. Unfortunately I did not have the privelege to get to know him very well because my father didn't feel the need for it, but then, my father didn't feel the need to know and be close to me or my brothers either. Having his fun was all that was important to him.
I have fond memories of the few times I got to spend with my gradfather when I was a boy when we went camping and a few times that I remember as a kid going to Maine to visit him with my Mom & Dad and all my Aunts & Uncles & Cousins. We would party out in his back yard all evening into the night and he played harmonica and we'd all sit around listening to his French Jigs for hours while the air around us was lit with fireflies. It was nice.
Ernest Martin died and was burried before I even knew. My father didn't think it was important to tell me and my brothers that my grandfather died. I found out because an Aunt called me to ask why my brothers and I were not at his funeral. My father's mother passed away in 2008 and once again my father didn't tell me that my Grandmother had passed away. She was gone and burried before I knew. A family friend told us about it. Nice huh!