At George P. Johnson, we honor those who lift us up: both in and out of the office. Because without our support systems, we wouldn’t be the people we are today. This year, we’re honoring Father’s Day by sharing stories of the fathers and father-figures who pick us up, dust us off, and cheer us on no matter what.
Irina Taylor
GPJ LA
My dad: He’s 94. He’s still driving, conniving and thriving. He ends every phone conversation with “Love ya! Over and out!” He doesn’t play or watch sports. He loves to read and debate. He’s not on any medication and eats mostly meat, fruit and vegetables -although he never met an ice cream or pastry he didn’t like. He doesn’t snack – he eats “morsels” and “hunger quenchers” and is proud of his bantam weight. He only drinks coffee and kambucha and thinks water is “boring”. No alcohol or cigarettes for him in the past 50 years, but back in the day, heyhey.
He’s like a toddler with freedom and independence and a credit card. He terrifies me. I find myself wondering, “Did I terrify him, growing up?”. But this man lived through WW2 and Vietnam and I don’t think much terrifies him. Military dads like him approached Fatherhood differently when I was growing up – they went away on “missions”, paid bills and yelled at us when moms asked them to. When he was growing up in wartime Lithuania (and later in a displaced persons camp in Germany) the Fatherhood job description was different still. I suspect his own father found him a handful.
He speaks 5 languages, has a doctorate, is a retired Air Force officer and taught Geopolitics in an Eastern European university. He prefers interesting people to agreeable ones.
He’s a terrible tipper and we know to bring cash to slip to the waiter whenever he invites us out for a meal. For many years my brother and sister and I felt we were more similar to my mother and her Latin American side of the family, but now that we are all grown up and I have spent more time with him as his main caregiver I realize how much he went through and how he tried to do his best, no matter what Parenting style was fashionable at the time. He didn’t care about fashion, he cared about us all getting good grades, being able to hold our own in any situation, being resilient, independent and strong and doing the right thing. He also was extremely supportive of any creative endeavors and came to every play or concert I was ever in and still keeps a clipping of an Op-Ed I had published in a British newspaper decades ago. He is fierce and fiercely funny.
Even though he travelled continuously and extensively, his presence and influence was always felt at home. Decades later when I was raising my own child as a single parent I realized what a luxury that had been. To all the single mothers out there who had to be mother and father and may dread Father’s Day, you know how tough both those jobs are, and I support and salute you. We are so keenly aware of all the mistakes our parents made – so we can make entirely new and different ones when it’s our turn!
There will never be anyone remotely like my dad and the day he leaves this world will be a true foundation rocker for my family. He’s not a “typical” father, if there is such a thing. But he’s definitely a unique, special and beloved one.
Will Grimes
GPJ Austin
Being a dad is challenging, hilarious, and fulfilling in a way that is impossible to truly put into words. I am frequently brought to tears by the smallest of things, simply because I am so very proud of and so very very LOVED by my girls. It is the greatest privilege in my life to know deep down to my core that I would carry the weight of the world (and their water bottles / bikes / ipads / snacks / sweaters / etc. at the same time) to see them happy and thriving.
Being a girl dad is especially gratifying, and it has made me a better man, and human, by a factor of a trillion.
Joe Sarquiz
GPJ LA
My dad passed away in 2011, but I have great memories of him. He was 6’3, 280 pounds and smoked 4 packs of cigarettes a day (that’s 80 cigarettes a day or 4-5 an hour). He had a deep smoker’s voice and was often mistaken for the Mafia. He dropped out of high school in his sophomore year because he got kicked off the basketball team for smoking in the locker room. Soon after he joined the Navy and when returned to the states he married my mom.
While he didn’t have a good relationship with his dad, he wanted to make sure he had that with his kids. For me, he coached my little league baseball team for 7 years and spent many hours letting me pitch to him in our driveway. He had many black and blue marks on his shins when my curve ball got away from me. He would also take me camping in my younger years and on my 21st birthday, he took me to Las Vegas and taught me how to play Craps (I’ve carried on the Craps tradition to all my children).
One of my greatest memories is that every once in a blue moon after dinner, he would take me to the arcade to play pinball. It was UNLIMITED quarters when going with dad which means you could play for hours. These were special moments for me because they were a spur of the moment out of the blue.
On the flip side, I also felt that he was tough on me as a kid more than my sisters. I didn’t come to appreciate it until later in life when I realized he was trying to make me tougher, stronger and more confident. Now as a father of four, I find myself doing some of the same learnings he passed on to me. Spending time with my children whenever possible and making sure I’m raising them to stand on their own, not having to rely on anyone else. I will always treasure the time we had together. I love you and miss you Dad.
Stewart Chow
GPJ Austin
Growing up, my dad was one of the hardest-working people I knew. Running a family business six days a week to pay the bills and cover school tuition isn’t something I fully appreciated until I got older. He operated one of the only Chinese restaurants in my hometown and became a fixture in the community—making sure every customer was well-fed and cared for, just as he did with his three kids.
Today, I better understand what it means to be a visible, dependable presence. The responsibility, pressure, and persistence it takes to keep a family moving forward are things that barely register as a child.
Now, that idea of fatherhood keeps evolving. I have the privilege of feeding and caring for two lovely souls of my own as they find their place in the world. I’m in awe of the things my kids teach me, after a long day teaching them. As I learn more about their curiosities, I’m also unlearning the things that can hold a child back. It’s a humbling responsibility I don’t take lightly.
For me, fatherhood is the ultimate baton pass: you carry what came before, and push it forward with whatever speed and strength you can. This Father’s Day, thank you to all the dads, grandfathers, and father figures doing your part to shape what comes next.
