Kenny Lee Martin wanted an empire, a legacy he could pass down.

He wanted something that with time and hard work he could create by hand from nothing.

He started CMS (contract management services) a company that made a little over a million dollars by the time he passed at 29, from his Nana’s shed of old junk.

By hand and hard work he crafted a company that relied on its employees just as much as the creator. And he loved it as much as he loved them. Giving them not only thanks as often as he could but sometimes more than he could afford to lose.

His yard was not one that was manicured but more of an old junk yard. Full of toys and rubble, where not a tool would ever be found in the right place.

-Much like his messy, beautiful life that he felt was his own version of organized chaos.

His uncanny ability to turn something others would have otherwise discarded into true value.

…He was a utilitarian in the most spectacular fashion of blue jeans and a dusty work shirt.

He loved large bodies of water, anywhere at any time of year it was almost like he had gills.

He would sit in his “1980s Buick” version of a hot tub for hours, sitting in silence, staring into the stars until his fingers would prune. Ironic since he never really liked “skin”.

His sense of humor was quiet and intellectual. But his smile, his smile was the beacon in open waters to lost souls all around him.

He hated the idea of speaking in front of a crowd but he was a natural born leader, whether he wanted to admit it or not, people followed him. Possibly for his simplicity and determination.

He had about 17 pillows on his bed, all over priced. But according to him you couldn’t put a price on comfort.

He thought irrigation through air was fascinating and loved fountains that were centered in man made lakes.

He was never really into sports unless the team he liked or was betting on, was winning, and from time to time he took some solace in the clockless filled walls of the casino.

He loved riding his limited edition Harley motorcycle because it made him feel closer to those that he loved.

The center console of the truck was where he left the things he needed and always forgot where he put them.

Bondo and duct tape fixed the world’s problems. And there wasn’t a thing around him he couldn’t fix, except for stupid.

He took his dog, sorry, his “unofficial operation supervisor”, just about everywhere that he went. Bulleit followed.

You would always hear his truck about a mile out down the road, his signature entrance that typically by happenstance used to be at least 15 min late to whatever he was due to accompany.

He paced when he talked on the phone.

Cereal was it’s own separate food group.

Mushrooms taste like dirt

And he claimed he was allergic to apple juice.

God forbid the milk could not be immediately teleported from the grocery store and into his fridge, without ever being exposed to the outside world.

He was the epitome of everything he had ever created. AND the impact that his life had on others.

Quite possibly so much more than he could ever have imagined.

His death, in his home on February 8th 2024, brought forth the potential to save numerous lives that might have succeeded him.

Woefully befitting his creation of a true legacy.

His life; a metaphorical mosaic, from broken shards of glass, metal, wood, and pvc;

All the world needed was his ingenuity to make the most spectacular work of art you’d ever seen.

Even with people.

In the end of his life, and post. His accomplishments are many and he is unfathomably loved. 

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