When James Martin was born, doctors told his parents that he might never speak. However, he did not only learn to speak, but 31 years later, on his birthday, he walked on Hollywood’s biggest stage to collect his Oscar for Best Live Action Short Film, An Irish Goodbye. James became the first actor with Down syndrome to win an Academy Award. And, as icing on the cake, the entire audience sang “Happy Birthday” to him.
James Martin never let his condition hold him back.
James Martin’s father, Ivan Martin, is very proud of his son and revealed that he does everything with great gusto, and he’s very glad that his efforts have paid off.
“He has spent his life pushing the envelope. People are very good at saying, ’You can’t do this, and you can’t do that’… He’s done it, and he does it consistently,” he said.
Martin is the first person with Down syndrome to win not just a BAFTA but an Oscar too, and he’s very proud of himself. “It doesn’t matter if you have Down syndrome, as long as you’re doing what you do. I do what I can to be funny,” he said.
His girlfriend also supports him and says the win was a magical moment. “It shows to everyone that it’s changing your mindset on how people with disabilities can achieve as much as everyone else can,” she declared.
For the past 10 years, Martin has been working at Starbucks.
His co-workers and manager at Starbucks are very proud of Martin and his acting success, and to support him, good-luck posters were placed in the coffee chain’s city stores.
However, Martin’s dad revealed that despite the fame, he doesn’t see his son quitting his job as a barista anytime soon.
Martin caught the acting bug after he joined the Belfast-based Babosh theatre company for children with learning disabilities.
There, Martin did all types of shows, and he enjoyed every moment spent there. This was a stepping stone for him, as he later managed to land the lead role in Ups and Downs, starring alongside actress Susan Lynch.
Martin then went on to land a role in the series, Marcella, but his role in An Irish Goodbye, which won him both a BAFTA and an Oscar, is his most high-profile role to date.
Preview photo credit MICHAEL TRAN/AFP/East News, An Irish Goodbye / First Flights and co-producers
I Felt Disappointed That My Grandfather Left Me Just an Old Apiary, but My Perspective Changed When I Inspected the Beehives
My late grandfather, a master storyteller who spun tales of buried treasure, left me a rather unexpected inheritance: a dusty old apiary. It felt like a cruel joke at first. Who would leave their grandchild a shack swarming with bees? My resentment lingered until the day I finally ventured into the beehives.
One typical morning, Aunt Daphne urged me to pack my bag for school, but I was too busy texting a friend about the upcoming dance and my crush, Scott. When she mentioned my grandfather’s dreams for me, my frustration grew. I had no interest in tending to his bees; I just wanted to enjoy my teenage life.
The next day, Aunt Daphne chastised me for my neglect, threatening to ground me. She insisted that caring for the apiary was part of my responsibility. Despite my protests, I reluctantly agreed to check on the hives. Donning protective gear, I opened the first hive, my heart racing. A bee stung my glove, and for a moment, I considered quitting. But a rush of determination took over, and I pressed on, hoping to show Aunt Daphne I could handle this.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weathered plastic bag containing a faded map. Excited, I tucked it into my pocket and raced home to grab my bike. Following the map, I pedaled into the woods, recalling my grandfather’s stories that had once enchanted me.
I found myself in a clearing resembling a scene from one of his tales—the old gamekeeper’s house stood before me, decaying but still captivating. Memories flooded back of lazy afternoons spent there, listening to his stories. Touching the gnarled tree nearby, I recalled his playful warnings about the gnomes that supposedly lurked in the woods.
Inside the forgotten cabin, I uncovered a beautifully carved metal box. Inside was a note from Grandpa: “To my dear Robyn, this box contains a treasure for you, but do not open it until your journey’s true end” Though tempted, I knew I had to honor his wishes.
After exploring further, I realized I was lost and panic set in. Remembering Grandpa’s advice to stay calm, I pressed on, searching for a familiar path. Eventually, I stumbled upon the bridge he often spoke of, but it felt further away than I had hoped. Exhausted and disoriented, I collapsed beneath a tree, longing for home.
The next morning, determined to find my way, I recalled Grandpa’s lessons as I navigated through the wilderness. I found a river but was startled when I slipped into the icy water. Fighting against the current, I finally managed to cling to a log, eventually dragging myself to shore.
Soaked and trembling, I rummaged through my backpack, only to find stale crumbs. When I remembered Grandpa’s wisdom, I used healing leaves for my cuts and continued onward, drawn by the sound of rushing water. I finally reached the river again, but the water was treacherous. Desperate, I knelt to drink, but the current swept me away, and I found myself struggling against the powerful flow.
Determined not to give up, I let go of my backpack but clung to the metal box. With sheer will, I fought my way to the bank, finally escaping the icy grasp of the river. I needed shelter, so I built a makeshift one from branches under a sturdy oak tree.
The next morning, I set out once more, the metal box feeling like my only lifeline. Memories of fishing trips with Grandpa warmed me, urging me forward. When I finally spotted the bridge, hope surged within me. But the forest began to close in around me, confusion and despair threatening to overwhelm me. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I found a clearing and collapsed, utterly spent.
Then, I heard voices calling my name. I awoke in a hospital bed with Aunt Daphne by my side. Overcome with regret, I apologized for everything. She comforted me, reminding me of Grandpa’s unconditional love and how he always believed in me.
As she reached into her bag, my heart raced when I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper. It was an Xbox, a gift from Grandpa, meant to be given only when I understood the value of hard work. I realized then that I had learned that lesson, and the desire for the gift faded.
In the following years, I grew into my responsibilities, embracing the lessons my grandfather imparted. Now, as a mother myself, I reflect on those moments with gratitude. The sweet honey from my bees serves as a cherished reminder of the bond I shared with Grandpa, a bond that continues to guide me.
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