Martin B. Collette, Jr.

Martin Bernard Collette, Jr., was born in New Orleans in 1937 to Thelma (Knecht) Collette and Martin B. Collette, Sr., and named after his father. As the first child and first grandchild, he enjoyed some extraordinary perks, including the love—and competitive devotion—of two grandmothers and the support of a large extended family. Growing up, he answered to many nicknames, including Benny, Skip, and occasionally Deetsie. As an adult, he was known as Ben, except for a brief period when he began calling himself Martin. He claimed another “Ben” in his 55+ community, had a bad reputation. None of those left behind can vouch for that statement.

During his final year, Ben moved to an assisted living community in Wilmington, Delaware, closer to one of his children. While sorting through a lifetime of belongings, his family discovered evidence that Dad was a bright student with “a lot of unmet potential” because of poor behavior marks. Dad insisted that bad behavior was necessary for survival—not only because he was 5’3” at his tallest, but also because his mother sent him to public school in New Orleans wearing knickers and Peter Pan collars. He graduated from St. Paul’s Preparatory Boarding School in Covington, Louisiana, and later earned a degree in accounting from the University of Louisiana at Monroe. It was more than a little ironic, then, that this same young man who struggled with behavior marks grew into a father who was focused on making sure his own children were well behaved, educated and self-sufficient.

Ben passed away peacefully on September 17, 2026, at the age of 88, in Wilmington, Delaware, after what can only be described as a knock-down, drag-out, Hatfield-and-McCoys-style battle between his heart and kidneys. In the end, both proved to be as stubborn as he was. He considered it something of a miracle that he lived to 88 at all, given how much he hated doctors, hated needles even more and smoked unfiltered Pall Malls from age 13 to age 60.

He spent his final ten months in Wilmington, close to family, but had lived in central and south Jersey for over 40 years.

Ben’s childhood was complicated by his mother’s leukemia, and it included time with beloved relatives, boarding school, and more moves than any child should have to make. Through it all, he developed a charming and resilient personality, along with a lifelong love of music, art, theater, nature, and reading. He always considered New Orleans home, but he also loved that his move to New Jersey in the early 1980s opened the door to new cultural opportunities—more art, more plays, more concerts. He also loved taking day trips to the Jersey shore.

His greatest joy was drumming. Inspired as a boy by legendary jazz drummer Gene Krupa, Ben learned to play and later performed professionally with his college friends and fraternity brothers in a band called The Revs, playing for college and high school dances across North Louisiana. He considered music his first profession and his best. His drumming days came to an end after the birth of his first child, but he traded the drum kit for the dance floor and became, by all accounts, a truly great dancer. Music remained a big part of his life right to the end—he loved listening to jazz, Dixieland, and rock and roll, and even as dementia set in, he could still name the artists, the songs, and the lyrics. He passed away listening to Hey Jude by The Beatles.

Over the years, Ben was a musician, bookkeeper, assistant controller, tax auditor, sports enthusiast, husband, father, occasional tutor, and, perhaps most enthusiastically, an unpaid critic of other people’s cooking. He had little interest in the daily responsibility of preparing meals himself, but he appreciated a good gumbo, red beans and rice on Monday, and a piece of pie with a cup of coffee anytime, anywhere—especially if it was chocolate icebox pie.

Ben was enormously proud of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, and he loved pointing out their unique qualities—their honesty, their kindness, and their dedication to both their careers and their families. Although he didn’t always show it, he spoke fondly of them right up to his final days. He also cherished the time he spent with his sisters and with his favorite brother-in-law, the late Billy Bert Loe.

He is survived by his sisters, Linda and Jane; his children Randy, Rusty (Candace), Jodi (Claude), Todd, Jennifer (John), and Robert; special stepdaughters Denise (Chris) and Suzanne (Eddie); eight grandchildren; and seven great-grandchildren. He was preceded in death by his parents and his brother, Bobby Collette.

We will miss Ben’s storytelling; his quest for the perfect cup of coffee; his awkward, infrequent phone calls; his voracious reading of books on religion, history, and mystery; his armchair politics; his Christian faith; his love of the 76ers and the Eagles; his appreciation of everyone else’s cooking; and even his habit of tapping the brake pedal in rhythm with whatever song was playing on the radio.

Most of all, we will miss simply knowing he was there.

A celebration of Ben’s life will be held in New Orleans on December 4, 2026. In lieu of flowers, the family asks that you play hooky from your obligations for an afternoon. Go to the beach. See a movie. Go watch your child’s sports practice. Order dessert. Ask your impossibly beautiful crush to dinner. Enjoy your life.

If Ben could leave us with one final piece of advice, it might be: take a beat, enjoy the sunshine, and for heaven’s sake, keep a better calendar and address book than he did.

And if he could see us making this much fuss over him, he’d probably wonder what everyone was eating and whether anyone had made coffee yet.

We love you, Ben, Daddy, Skip. You made our lives better, funnier, and far more interesting.

And the stories will be told for a very long time.

The family would like to thank the caring staff of The Lorelton in Wilmington, Delaware and the friends Ben made there during his final year in assisted living.