By Melanie Regnier, Terry Doherty, and Jenelle Holmes
Martyn Hope, a long-term Ormewood Park resident, died on April 6. He loved this community and neighborhood and gave so much of himself to it over the years. He walked with the Stroller Brigade, made his famous curries at Cafe 458, ran a Mother’s Morning Out program, opened and managed the dog yard, and photographed many community events.
“This community meant so much to him,” said Lesa Hope, his wife of 35 years. “In all of his travels around the world – and he went a lot of places – this was the only place he felt safe and truly loved and accepted for being the eccentric person that he was.”
Martyn began to have some memory problems in the last few years of his life, and neighbors rallied to help him before he moved to Montana, where he spent his last two years in the care of his daughter Rosie and wife Lesa. “It was difficult taking care of him,” said Rosie, “but we made a commitment as a family. The good thing that came from this was him getting to spend the first two years of life with Grady, his grandson. He and Grady loved each other so much. When my dad was struggling with pain, Grady would come to me and say, ‘Help Pop Pop’. That was the silver lining, them spending time together, every day, for two years.”
Martyn was born June 12, 1951, in Essex, England, and studied art at Manchester. He leaves behind his wife Lesa, daughters Nadia and Rosie, grandson Grady, nieces Annaliza, Claudine, Joanna, nephew Clive, and numerous great nieces and nephews. He was preceded in death by his father and mother, Phillip and Agnes Hope, and sisters Christine Watson and Rosie Bagley.
Here are a few words about Martyn, from friend and neighbor Terry Doherty, and Ormewood Church Rev. Jenelle Holmes:
Terry Doherty: I met Martyn in 2007 or so. I live in East Atlanta, just me and my two dogs, and had been looking for a dog park other than Piedmont, which was a bit of a hike. Someone told me about the enclosed space behind the Ormewood Church, so I hustled over and found a warm and welcoming spot, filled with neighborhood folks who quickly became fast friends. That’s where I met Martyn, who had done so much to secure the space for our dogs. I soon learned he was a man of infinite kindness, a man who made you feel you’d been his friend since forever. Everyone in the neighborhood knew Martyn, whether from the dog park, his once-a-week “Mother’s Morning Off” daycare program, and any other thing Martyn could lend a hand to. Our relationship revolved around the dog park. Martyn was in charge, in his helpful and considerate way, and I was happy to help him in any way I could. We hauled off the poop bags, we mowed and trimmed, and when he, Lesa and the kids went out of town I happily covered for him. When the work was done, we sat with our dogs and talked. About everything. Life, the neighborhood, World Cup, movies, his youth in England, you name it. Often with his ward Kimmie, a beautiful young lady who had suffered brain trauma as an infant and was unable to speak, sitting with us. His love for Kimmie, and hers for him, is what I think of when I think of him. Sadly, in time I and others knew something was wrong, that Martyn was fading, and those moments of conversation and dog park fun were over. That was such a hard time. And one day I learned he had gone, off to live under Lesa’s and Rosie’s care in Montana. Ever since, when driving through the Ormewood neighborhood, I find myself hoping to see that wonderful man walking along, off to help someone, in his unmistakable white linens, smiling when I stopped to say hi, and will I see you later at the park? Someday we will, old friend. Someday.
Jenelle Holmes: Martyn was a participant at Ormewood Church. While he resisted the theological limits of organized religion, he joined in the community connection on Sundays and beyond, bringing his smile, his calm demeanor, and his photography. His heart was open to all experiences of the Divine, and he made space for other people’s experiences well. On this property at the corner of Delaware and Woodland, Martyn helped in the Dog Yard, offered a mom’s morning out drop-off in the Fellowship Hall basement, fed us curry, and took all of our pictures. He also sat in meditative silence in our upper classroom on most days, inviting others to join him when they could. That room still has the presence of a calm, loving soul in it.
