Jane Hilton Martin

Jane H. Martin died January 11, 2016 of complications from Alzheimer's disease. She was seventy-nine years of age. Jane was preceded in death by her husband, Rex Martin and daughter, Kathleen Martin. She is survived by her daughter, Diane Budd. Jane's legacy to family and friends is their memory of her. An engaging smile and warm personality hid the strict self-discipline and perseverance that enabled her to excel academically and in the workplace. She worked her way through college as a legal secretary, graduating with special honors from the University of Colorado's School of Business in 1958. After marriage and having started a family, she became progressively employed in the energy industry as a landman tasked with negotiating and administering mineral interests in oil, gas, and coal as well as representing her employers in local, state, and federal governmental affairs. As a testament to her initiative, while employed full-time, she earned a Master's degree in Business Administration from the University of Denver in 1984, graduating in the upper five percent of her class. Jane ended her business career employing her skills as a respected lobbyist for Colorado's property tax assessors. It goes without saying that Jane loved her family and took pride in their achievements. Her avocation was gardening, which she pursued with typical zeal on the eleven acres of her home in Parker, Colorado. Her proudest achievement was the Master Gardener certification she earned after retirement. To live in the hearts we leave behind is to never die. ~Carl Sagan The Release To-day within a grog-shop near I saw a newly captured linnet, Who beat against his cage in fear, And fell exhausted every minute; And when I asked the fellow there If he to sell the bird were willing, He told me with a careless air That I could have it for a shilling. And so I bought it, cage and all (Although I went without my dinner), And where some trees were fairly tall And houses shrank and smoke was thinner The tiny door I open threw, As down upon the grass I sank me: Poor little chap! How quick he flew . . . He didn't even wait to thank me. Life's like a cage; we beat the bars, We bruise our breasts, we struggle vainly; Up to the glory of the stars We strain with flutterings ungainly. And then -- God opens wide the door; Our wondrous wings are arched for flying; We poise, we part, we sing, we soar . . . Light, freedom, love. . . . Fools call it -- Dying. ~Robert William Service