MY FATHER – LOUIS C. MARTIN, M.D. (1928-2007)
Eighteen years ago, on the evening of July 23rd, 2007, I was lying on the couch, watching “Big Love” with my husband. It was after 9pm. I remember exactly how my body was positioned, where my head was on the pillow, even the beer in front of me on the table. I remember, because the phone rang, and it was my parents’ number. I knew something was very wrong. There was no way would either one of them be calling me at that time of night, for anything other than something very serious. Probably very bad.
I don’t think my mother had called me after 5pm, like, ever. So I remember thinking, I hope it’s Dad when I pick up. Then there would be a chance that there was no crisis on the other end of the line. No luck. I heard my mom’s voice, and instantly I braced for the worst.
It came.
“Your father had an accident at work today. He was attacked by a patient, and he had to go to the hospital. He had a subdural hematoma. He had multiple surgeries to relieve the bleeding in his brain.”
In that instant, I knew I would never talk to my dad again. After 10 days in a coma, he died. Just 3 days short of his 79th birthday.
LIFE’S WORK, UNFINISHED
At the time of his death, Dad had been working on his latest book, and was very close to completing it. A few weeks before he was killed, he had visited a local vanity publisher, and paid off the balance he owed for their services to publish the book. He had told me, just the day before, about his visit to the publisher on his lunch break, and the nice chat he had with the woman there about his project. He was very excited about it. Time ran out.
THE BOOK
Dad had sent the Lively Planet manuscript to both my brother and me, and we had each read and discussed it with him. Every page of it was familiar, both in his thinking, and his writing style. Every chapter, every sentence had his fingerprint all over it. And while we both suggested that a professional editor could possibly partner with him to help present his beautiful and relevant conclusions in a slightly more polished and organized fashion – it was not unexpected to hear him say “but more would be the pity for the reader not to hear how things REALLY are!” So the writings remained unchanged. Straight from the mind of Lou, uncut.
While the book does not consistently read like an academic scholarly text – it doesn’t need to, nor does it attempt to. When I read it, I can hear the lilt of his voice, and see his finger in the air, as he approaches the A-HA moment, and punctuates it with a final gesture of satisfaction. I can see the glint in his eye, and the smile on his face, and feel the joy he exuded when talking about the emergence of mind from matter, and the elegance of God, expressed through all creation, in our magical, mystical, yet knowable world.
Dad had a gift for spinning a cinematic tale of the creation of the universe – mind, matter and spirit – from the moment of the Big Bang to present day. He loved to guide the reader on a majestic, sweeping journey of awe and complexity, through the immense and miraculous tale that brings us to who we are, where we are going, and the search for meaning for us as humans on this Lively Planet. He believed that Science and Religion are not at odds with one another, but rather they work in tandem, answer different questions, and speak different languages. He devoted his life to studying both the spiritual side of humankind (he spent ten years in the Jesuit Order), and also the scientific underpinnings that hold all matter and our universe together (after leaving the Jesuits, he got his medical degree and practiced Clinical Psychiatry). There is a beautiful dance between both realms, and he felt our job is to understand life’s meaning from all angles, with the tools offered by both the spiritual and the scientific, entwined together, reinforcing one another in their grandeur.
THE TALES THAT FORMED ME, THAT COMFORT ME STILL
I grew up reading Dad’s writings. They were voluminous, and fleshed out much of my world view, as a young girl finding her way through adolescence and adulthood at the end of the 20th century. His reflections were the topic of many, many conversations around the house, in the car, on walks, or bike rides around the parks and university close to our home. I treasure those conversations. While I may take a different viewpoint here or there, our discussions of meaning in the universe still quiet my anxious and frightened mind when things inevitably get dark and difficult.
We are here, we come from something, we are a part of something. I hold the same reverence and awe for all of it that Dad did. No matter how I define God, or what church I do or do not attend, the creation of the universe and our place in it is to me, undeniably awe-some. If it is just all a strange coincidence that life and consciousness exist in this insanely detailed framework – then so be it. Does it matter? The wonder of it all is spectacular in and of itself. Why wouldn’t I take every single day to appreciate it, and share it, with love and gratitude?
BEST LAID PLANS
For these eighteen years, it has been my intention to finish the project Dad had started, and was so close to completing. I was in contact with the publisher very soon after his death. They agreed to honor the contract they had, and I would be Dad’s proxy until the project was complete. They just needed a few things – cover art, a dedication, a synopsis, things of that nature… things I apparently couldn’t deliver. Over the years, the guilt of not completing the project plagued me. I would take small steps to complete the tasks needed, but for whatever reason, I just couldn’t see it through. Month after month – year after year, life prevented me from getting it done. Two sons, a career change or two, our first home purchase, then another… you know how this goes. It was always there.
FAST FORWARD
A few years ago, I stumbled upon a video series entitled “Why Are We Here?“ by Ard Louis, Professor of Theoretical Physics at the University of Oxford, and filmmaker, David Malone. I could imagine Dad sitting next to me, watching these videos, and loving every minute. I was so moved by the content of Dr. Louis’s presentation that it sparked and reawakened my commitment to make Dad’s book available and accessible. I had never done anything like this – but I felt compelled to write to Dr. Louis, tell him Dad’s story, and share his manuscript of Lively Planet with him.
KINDNESS FROM A BRILLIANT STRANGER
What was I thinking! A busy professor, world renowned for his presentations on the convergence of Science and Religion, and who lectures regularly on topics such as self-assembling DNA, theories of evolution, and the dynamics of soft matter. Surely he wouldn’t take the time to read, let alone acknowledge my email to him.
But he did. While he didn’t have time to dig into Dad’s book (I didn’t truly expect him to), he did thank me for contacting him, and recommended that I create a website for Dad, and include the manuscript in full, for anyone to be able to find and download. That sounded like a great idea to me, and something I could actually handle.
Thankfully, Dad had started a website of his own, the pages and files of which we had kept. There were plenty of writings from his webpage that I was able to organize on a slightly recreated site. I still had, of course, the digital manuscript of Lively Planet. So it was easy enough to put it on the website as a PDF to read or download. My brother had diligently made PDFs from Dad’s previous books, God and Atom (2004), and Man at Millenium (1972). These books can also be read and downloaded.
MY LONG OVERDUE GIFT
So on this, the 5th of August, 2025, I wish you a Happy (would-be) 97th Birthday, Dad. I finally did it. I’m sorry it took me so long. The world has waited too long to hear your insights, and PsyQuest is finally back online. Your ponderings have stood the test of time, I’m sure. And when the boys ask “What was Grandpa Lou like?” I tell them to read a page or two of Lively Planet. For through it, your voice carries on, as does your legacy. So much of what was so special about you is imbued in, and found in-between the lines of your storytelling. I think of you and miss you every single day. Thanks for leaving with us such a vibrant, inquisitive and loving part of you.
As I search for a proper dedication for your book, Dad, it seems fitting to use the same words you did in your first book, for young Christopher. Perhaps you are together again. I hope so. And so I say to you…
Ave Atque Vale!
Essays, Books, and the unfinished manuscript, Lively Planet, can be found at PsyQuest.org. All material on the website is the original work of Louis C. Martin, MD. The website is maintained in his memory, by the Martin family.
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