Obituaries

1964. Chicago. Friday, June 5.

The Beatles were on fire and Nelson Mandela started his prison sentence. Amongst the ‘60s peace and love, a baby was born — Martin Ray Nall. Helen Klem and Ray Nall had brought a baby boy into the world and they knew this one was going to be a handful.

During Marty’s early years, he brushed with death the first time with what his mom referred to as “Duck Disease.” He was bitten by a duck and ended up with a rare illness that pretty much no one ever survives, but alas, here we are.

As a little rascal, he got himself into several questionable situations — especially on his bicycles. He was a ‘60s kid and if you are reading this chances are you understand fully.

As a teen, he loved sports and skinning his knees, but didn’t like getting hit by cars as he always said “it’s overrated.” Being 16 and getting run over by a drunk driver as he rode his bike was his second attempt at dying. Yet, alas we are still, still here. He made it, but the bike didn’t.

This one though, would change his life in many ways. He would need more surgeries over the rest of his life than anyone would have ever imagined.

Rolling into adulthood in a 1967 Chevy Chevelle S,S he was free to roam the country.

This car took him everywhere — until he lent it to a friend. Then it took no one anywhere. “You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose,” he used to say. Maybe he should’ve picked a different friend to drive the car. He talked about that car all the time.

He worked on trailer homes for years doing transport and maintenance. He loved woodworking and the relaxation it gave him when creating different decorations, personalized pieces or pool table lights.

We kids would play around the world on the basketball court or throw his favorite jellybee back and forth with him as the dust blew across the field on warm summer evenings after just mowing the largest lawn on earth — or so it seemed. Then fell victim to a basketball game called Chicago Hustle, which was a blessing and a curse.

He hailed from Chitown, but was a never-dying Packer fan that wore a pair of green and gold Zubaz since as far back as I can remember — he was probably born with them. He didn’t miss games and there was always yelling! That’s normal, right?

With his two best friends, Bill Sherman and Dan Raney, they were a heck of a trio. They did some crazy **** that they didn’t talk about and then they did some that they always talked about. More incredible fishing stories than you can imagine — not very many about catching anything. More prominently, stories about being chased by a huge snake through the woods after almost being crushed by a tree. Or being toppled and sat on by a bull as Marty was watching his bobber, or when Dan thought he was going to be eaten by a muskie since it was the biggest he had ever seen before flipping the boat. But then, maybe fishing stories don’t typically start with, “Then I found a headless dead body,” so we didn’t really have a chance to get to “normal” fish stories.

The third pass at trying to die came when he decided to see how wedged in a culvert was under a driveway. Turns out — very. Culvert 1, Marty 0. Also, turns out that helicopter rides aren’t free and there is a much better way to enjoy those!

He was graced with wearing a halo (do not confuse it with an angel) for a long time. This was a very apparent time to us when we were able to witness why he just lives. Refusing to give up. Wearing a halo on his head/neck and a brace on his leg, the man would pedal his bike one-legged. We got to see how emphatic he was about life and what fitness meant to him. The incredible perseverance and dedication to keep going every day. I wish that everyone had his drive. He did too. He would say, “git er done.” Non-negotiable.

He was a cook for years. He loved to come up with new recipes or reinvent things in new ways to tantalize your senses. Then, he would force-feed you something that looked very questionable but had you asking for more. He was the hardest worker in the room. Literally working circles around people. He cared. Just cared. Cared about your wellness and about you.

He cared to pick up garbage and clean and be tidy, earning him the nickname “Marty Stewart” at one point.

Since attempt #2 (the run over) didn’t work, I guess he figured he would rack up a tally of how many surgeries and doctor visits he could make. I am not sure on the tally, but I know he had 34 surgeries on his left knee and 19 on his right. Final count. His words, “didn’t fix ****.” He was constantly in pain and the only thing that helped was heat. If you didn’t know, Wisconsin is not very tropical. So, Arizona was on the radar.

In years to come, he did make it to Arizona. He would go back and forth like many people do. Working in both places and creating new friendships and relationships as time went on. Never ceasing to give up on having another restaurant because his first love was cooking.

He found out in March that he had bladder cancer. He had 100% faith that it was going to be cured. He never stopped believing. He never stopped getting up and never stopped going.

His cause of death is still not in our hands, but the underlying disease is cancer.

A good teacher can not replace a great father, because children not only need education, but love. Marty has been both things for me and for that I will be infinitely grateful.

We will love you and miss you, forever.

— Ingrid Natalie Neri and Angel David Neri Martin Ray Nall is preceded in death by his dad, Ray Nall, and mom, Helen Klem.

He is survived by the love of his life, Maria Soto, Tempe, Arizona, and his children: Branden Nall (Heather), Eau Claire, Wisconsin; Matthew Nall (Chrissy), Fall Creek, Wisconsin; Samantha Nyren (Paul), Elk Mound, Wisconsin; Marti Gipson (Michael), Cadott, Wisconsin. And also siblings: Rayanne Nall, Eau Claire, Wisconsin; Lisa Nall, Altoona, Wisconsin; Allen Nall (Katy), Eau Claire, Wisconsin; Barney Nall (Betty), Clarksville, Tennessee; and Annie Bartush (Scott) Minneapolis, Minnesota.

If there is one thing I can say about my dad is that he was the definition of Never Give Up. If there is one thing he would want you to remember: “Be careful out there, there’s other people.”

Martin Ray Nall passed away on July 13th, 2024, in Scottsdale, Arizona.