My testimonial, as emailed out to many Tuesday:

My father, Paul Hoffmaster, passed away this morning.

For those of you who did not know him well:

Pop was raised in a family of 10 brothers and sisters in southeast DC
during the depression. He sold newspapers as a teenager at the ferry terminal
there. A lifelong Redskins fan, he was brought up in a loving but churchmouse
poor environment.

He was drafted into World War II but held off to take care of his invalid
father. When his father passed on dad notified the draft board and was
inducted into the service.

Dad entered the war at the Battle of the Bulge in the 2nd Division as a
private first class foot soldier. Although he got shot at a lot it was
dysentery that nearly took him. Dad turned down a purple heart, saying
he couldn't take one for getting the sh---.

After the war he worked at a car dealership as a grease monkey and
then as a painter. In those days you couldn't get a red car, you had to take a black
one and paint it red. Next he worked for Capital Airlines where he met
Martha, a single parent with a 3 year old daughter. They married in 1947.

Then dad ran a Sinclair station with mom. They started selling boats in
1954 and bought the marina in 1957 with the help of dad's brothers and
mom's family.

At that time there was nothing in Woodbridge, VA. You had to drive 20
miles even to buy a bottle dad said. Over the next 20 years dad and mom built
this market from scratch. Dad sold Owens Yachts, Concorde Yachts, and
Chris Craft. The market went from zero in 1954 to today, where easily $20m of boats
a year are sold within an 8 mile radius.

Although the late 80's and much of the 90's brought poor health and
eventually retirement to Paul, he never stopped being "Pure Paul." He
still ran demos, still gave docking lessons, and still leant a steadying arm to
everyone who worked at Hoffmaster's. On Easter he was telling me
about how he wanted to dredge by 4 slips and lecture the yard on the importance of
saying please and thank you.

Of all the tough things I had to do today the worst was calling the men
who used to work for dad. These men were much like him, brought up poor,
no reason to succeed. They are all successful men now, raised from
teenage by him. Some still work with me, some even own their own boat
dealerships. The tough part was they all cried like I do, like sons that lost a father.

One of my favorite photos:

Pop first and foremost loved to paint. Although I have many of him, painting big sheer stripes, the house, basically anything that wouldn't move, this one is special to me because it was taken in 1998. Dad at this point almost always felt bad and yet here he is putting a stripe on the showroom. The BACK of the showroom no less! His mind always moved, always thought about the next thing. Lord I miss him.