Marvin Jones, Sr., se despidió de su familia por última vez el 14 de marzo de 2025 a la edad de 93 años. Marvin falleció en la comodidad de su propio hogar, uno de sus deseos más fuertes al final de su vida. Rara vez en su vida Marvin estuvo sin un perro o un gato cerca, pero como su fiel compañero Buster había fallecido solo un mes antes, nuestra familia ocupó ese puesto para hacerle compañía. Fue su hija, Kay, quien estuvo a su lado al final.

Nuestro padre nació en Tacoma, Washington en 1932. Fue el mayor de seis hijos. Después de que su propio padre enfermara, Marvin tuvo que trabajar para ayudar a la familia, por lo que su educación finalizó en el octavo grado. A los 21 años fue reclutado en el Ejército, donde cumplió su tiempo requerido de dos años. Después, Marvin trabajó en molinos la mayor parte de su vida. Lo recordamos llegando a casa con pegamento negro pegado en sus pantalones durante muchos años por trabajar en un molino de contrachapado. También trabajó en la cadena verde, siendo Louisiana Pacific su último lugar de empleo. Los trabajadores del molino se declararon en huelga en la década de 1980, y aunque las negociaciones no tuvieron éxito, Marvin nunca cruzó la línea de piqueteo. Su empleo en el molino terminó en ese momento.

Marvin se casó con Shirley Hammack cuando él tenía 20 años y ella 16. Estuvieron casados ​​71 años cuando Shirley falleció en 2023. Marvin es sobrevivido por sus seis hijos: Rhonda Scott, Marvin Jones, Jr, Thomas Jones, Susan Davidson, Kaylene McCurry y Lavonne Cookman. También le sobreviven cuatro de sus hermanos: Donald Jones, Dale Jones, Delma Pfanensteil y Leola Santsche.

Junto con sus seis hijos, los descendientes de Marvin incluyen doce nietos, 33 bisnietos y cuatro tataranietos. Una bisnieta falleció antes que él, todos los demás siguen vivos.

Marvin was an avid outdoorsman and loved to fish, hunt, pick wild blackberries, wild huckleberries, and anything that could be harvested and eaten. He boiled wild cattails for all of us kids to try. It turns out they taste a bit like corn on the cob. He was never without a pocket knife, and he often used it to hold a slice of apple he offered to us. Our dad loved to eat healthy meals. Homemade food from a garden or from what he hunted or shed was his favorite. Even though he had an amazing appetite and ate a lot, he stayed thin. If you asked him his secret, he would tell you, as if there were no secret: only eat when you’re hungry.

Dad hunted every season to help feed his family. In 1963, when he was 31 years old, he got one of the largest blacktail deer ever harvested when he hunted on public land in Zenia. It was 11-1/2” at the base of one of the antlers. To this day, there’s not a person who sees the horns that doesn’t comment on the massiveness of them. Some people even thought they might be elk horns. Dad was very proud of them.

Never a strict rule or law follower, Marv showed his rebellious side often. Dad seemed to believe laws were more like guidelines or suggestions. He thought it was fine to drive without a license or insurance. When he was 85, he went to the Fish and Game Department to buy his deer license and tags. In order to purchase, Fish and Game requires a previous license or a copy of the hunter’s safety certificate. Due to his age, he had never taken hunter’s safety, and he had misplaced his license. As a result, Fish and Game wouldn’t sell him a current season’s license and tags. Dad told us he stormed out of the office saying, “You just made a poacher out of me!” Stubbornly, dad did hunt that year by himself when he was 85, and he successfully harvested a buck. He came back home a happy criminal.

Marvin had a somewhat warped sense of humor, and he bellowed a giant, joyous laugh any time he pulled a prank on someone. He loved to scare his kids and grandkids. Often, when he was supposed to be watching kids, he would take the opportunity to sneak outside when they weren’t looking. He would then pull a nylon over his head to smash and distort his face and knock on a window where the kids were. After they looked outside, he’d shine a flashlight under his chin so his eyes and mouth looked like gaping dark holes. It terrified every kid and they ran away screaming when they saw a creepy man outside the window. He would then race back in the house from another door, asking what was wrong. Another favorite prank would be to find an unsuspecting victim sitting in a chair. He’d sneak in from behind, where he would dangle a fake spider in their face, and then he’d belly laugh after they screamed and swiped at the spider. He often laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks. His boisterous laughter will be missed.

Dad was very competitive. He enjoyed playing checkers and was a master. He preferred checkers to chess and taught many people that there is a lot of strategy to playing what seems like a simple game. Up to the final months of his life, he could still beat his caregivers, when he would set up many moves ahead, so he could trap his opponent and make double and triple jumps. Dad also loved horseshoes and bowling. He was the oldest man in Humboldt County to bowl a sanctioned 300 game during league play.

Dad loved all animals. We had pet turkeys, goats, cats, dogs, and rats. He used to drive our mom crazy when he’d save spiders or other insects from the firewood. One year, on a drive home from Oregon, unfortunately for our mom, he saw a sign, “Goats for sale.” He couldn’t resist the temptation. We stopped and ended up with a mama goat and another goat with a broken leg. Dad thought we could enjoy goat’s milk and also nurse another goat back to health. Both goats rode back to California for about three hours in the back seat of the car with four of us kids loving every minute. It didn’t bother us when the goats had to “go” on the floor or seat of the car. Dad was a rebel and didn’t care either. In the end, we kids had two friendly goats to play with. We eventually learned to milk a goat, and the milk turned out to be delicious.

Dad’s favorite pets were his dogs, and he took them for a walk on the beach every day for as long as he was able. Beaches, rivers, trees,and wildlife were a source of peace for him. He could name just about every tree or the type of wood something was made from. His son Tom says he can’t look at a tree and not search for the perfect branch to make into a sling shot, because that was something dad enjoyed doing. One of dad’s favorite possessions was his yew wood bow that he carved himself. He could shoot arrows from it that traveled as far as his compound bow. It was very impressive to watch.

Marvin loved to play the harmonica, which he did terribly and enthusiastically. He was always up for games of most any kind, including a game we introduced to him called cornhole. Similar to horseshoes but using bean bags to throw, he took to it quickly, even at the age of 87. Years earlier, when he was in his early 80s, shingles had attacked the nerves in his dominate right arm, both paralyzing it and making it painful to use. He had to learn to use his left arm for everything. So, even though he was 87 and using his non-dominate arm, he gleefully beat his 37-year-old granddaughter, Stephanie, while learning how to play cornhole. He also amazed us all when he rode a bicycle at the age of almost ninety. He was gifted with energy and athleticism, and he never wanted to slow down: Our dad had a zest for life.

Marv enjoyed phone calls from his brothers, even though his hearing loss made communicating difficult. His sister, Leola, visited him weekly. He looked forward to seeing her, and as long as they didn’t talk about politics, all was well. Any time someone came to visit, he was happy and social. As they were going out the door, his parting words were usually, “Watch out for the crazy drivers.”

Dad enjoyed going to Mad River Adult Day Health, and even attended there a few weeks before he passed. It seemed like an unknown final goodbye. The family would like to thank granddaughter, Valerie, and her friend, David, for their live-in care to Marvin during the last months of his life. We also appreciate Hospice of Humboldt’s care. We thank Vickie and Julie from the VA for all their dedication and commitment to dad’s health over the years. We also thanks Ayers Family Cremation for their kindness and service.

When dad could no longer read, he asked that the 23rd Psalm be read to him, and it clearly gave him comfort. Dad was a quiet Christian. Lavonne remembers when she was a child, asking our dad how she could know God was real if we couldn’t see Him. He answered with this: “You can’t see the wind, but you know it’s there. You feel it. God is the same.”

A private, end-of-life celebration was held at his home.