James Thomas

Martin

James had his own way of moving through the world—uncomplicated, not fussy, easygoing. He carried a curious mind well into his senior years—paleontology, the mysteries of astronomy, the sweep of history. He possessed an unbridled resilience, a quiet strength that never wavered no matter what life placed in front of him. Like many men shaped by humble beginnings, he was extraordinarily generous, sacrificing material comforts for himself so his family could enjoy the small luxuries he never asked for. To his family, James was steady, present, and larger than life in the ways that mattered most.

James T. Martin was born in 1936 in Rossford, Ohio, in a large household shaped by deep Southern roots. Discipline, humor, faith, and loyalty weren't just taught—they were lived daily. Those lessons stayed with him and defined everything that followed. James survived childhood polio, carrying that resilience into everything he did. In high school,

he earned three varsity football letters and was named to the Toledo Blade All-City Team. He studied Industrial Arts, drawn to working with his hands—fixing what needed to be fixed. After graduating, he enlisted in the United States Air Force, serving with precision as an Aircraft Maintenance Journeyman around the world.

While stationed in Tennessee, he met Juanita, who was attending Tennessee State University. They married in Gadsden, Alabama, in 1962, beginning a 63-year partnership grounded in loyalty, humor, and a shared belief in family. Upon his honorable discharge, James received an offer to work as an airplane mechanic in Atlanta. He declined. Ohio was home, and family mattered more.

James returned to Ohio and began working for Libbey Owens Ford, later joining Toledo Hydramatic, where he dedicated decades of his career before retiring in 1998. He brought the same precision and reliability to his work that he had shown in the Air Force—showing up, doing the job right, and building the foundation that supported his family's life.

James was a man of steady faith. He attended Allen Chapel A.M.E. church in Rossford and later became a longtime member of Ascension Lutheran Church and after its closure attended Glenwood Lutheran Church, where he remained connected through fellowship and community. He was the brother and uncle that siblings, nieces, and nephews called when something broke or when a steady hand was required. If James showed up, the problem would be solved. He carried that same reliability into every part of his life.

In the 1960s and '70s, James created rituals that defined his children's memories. Saturdays meant taking his daughters to the Pantheon Theater, a weekly tradition filled with popcorn, laughter, and time with their dad. Summers brought the drive-in, the whole family piled into the car, windows down, warm air drifting in as the screen lit up the night. Those were the years of neighborhood kids running through the yard, the smell of fresh-cut grass, and a father who worked hard all week and made sure his family experienced joy on the weekends.

Music was how James unwound and how he expressed the part of himself that didn't need words. On Friday evenings, after a long week, he would turn up Wilson Pickett's "In the Midnight Hour"— that gritty, soulful sound filling the house. It was more than a song to him; it was a release, a ritual, and a reflection of his spirit.

James loved blues and soul music, weekend football watched side by side with Juanita—a ritual as steady as their marriage—and Christmas generosity that made the season feel magical and full. He enjoyed playing the lottery, reading the Toledo Blade daily, taking casino trips with his wife where they shared quiet fun and familiar routines, and annual family trips around the world. He adored his grandsons, giving them the same steady presence he gave his own children. He built stability, memory, and legacy.

James taught his family to be strong without hardness and loving without hesitation. His life was a blueprint for dignity and truth.

He is survived by his wife, Juanita; children Birdena, Monica (Harold), and Sean (Victoria); grandsons Austin and Robert; siblings Wanda, Donald, and Sandra; and nieces and nephews spanning generations. He was preceded in death by his daughter, Carmelita, his parents, and several siblings.