Father's Day: Stories of Influence #043
About lightsabers, a Mistake, Civil War heroes, and a Pikachu named Jhonny B
Today, in most parts of the world, people celebrate Father’s Day. So if you’re a dad, a father figure, or just someone who loves one…congrats. And to you, the reader… this one’s for you. Because the origin story of this celebration? It’s not just about ties and barbecue tongs. It’s a story of struggle for recognition. A story of generations. Of a daughter, and her journey to commemorate her hero.
This week is full of events for me. First and most important—my mom’s birthday.
By the time this is published, we’ll probably have celebrated and eaten some cake. Happy Bday, Mom.
Around this same time, 30 years ago, my grandfather on my dad’s side passed away. And I guess, since then, for my dad, this celebration hasn’t felt the same. So, it wasn’t the same for us either.
Today we will have different stories.. hope you enjoy them.
A Family Reunion
So why did I take this turn, writing a Father’s Day newsletter? Well… here’s what happened.
I watched Andor Season 2. (It’s amazing. If you haven’t watched it yet, do it…it’s the best Star Wars has delivered since Rogue One.)
Naturally, after finishing Andor, I rewatched Rogue One. Then A New Hope. Then The Empire Strikes Back.
Cut to me, halfway through some leftover steak and cherry tomatoes, when that scene comes on. Vader vs. Luke. Lightsabers clash. The emotional climax.
Vader slices Luke’s hand clean off. The tension builds. And then…
If you thought the next line was: “Luke, I am your father”—wrong!
Funny what we remember wrong. That line? Doesn’t exist. But it’s lived rent-free in our collective brain for decades.
What Vader really says is:
“Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father.”
“He told me enough! He told me you killed him!”
“No… I am your father.”
Then he goes full pitch mode: Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son.
That’s a plan. Ruling the galaxy, classic father-son bonding.
And yet, without that moment… without Vader’s twisted influence… Luke wouldn’t have become the Jedi he was. Not even the shitty sequels could take that away from him.
So in honor of the most normal father-son relationship in sci-fi history, let’s start this story right.
Because for all of us who thought, for years, that Father’s Day was just another mid-June Hallmark invention to sell mugs and neckties, there’s a real story behind it.
The Real Story Behind Father’s Day
It started with the Civil War.
William Jackson Smart, a veteran and widower in Arkansas, raised six kids on his own. One of those kids, Sonora Smart Dodd, sat through a Mother’s Day sermon in 1909 and had a thought:
Wait…why isn’t there a day for fathers?
So she did something about it. Talked to ministers, handed out flyers, and got the first Father’s Day on the books in Spokane, Washington, in 1910. Not on June 5th like she hoped…that was her dad’s birthday, but the third Sunday of June. Because, well, pastors needed more time to prep.
Still, it took a while to catch on. Presidents gave polite nods, retailers saw opportunity, and eventually, in 1966, Lyndon B. Johnson gave it a date. Nixon made it official in 1972.
And Sonora? She lived to see it. She passed away in 1978, age 96, after celebrating at least six official Father’s Days. Not bad for someone who just wanted to honor her dad.
Latin America… uhh, party? Where do I sign?
Now, us? In Latin America? We skipped the hard part. Just copied the date.
Third Sunday of June? Sounds good. Put it on the calendar. Cue the BBQ caps. Tiny font: Father’s Day.
And let’s be honest…how many of us even knew that story?
For most people, it’s a Hallmark holiday. Socks, a belt, maybe lunch… maybe not. A social convention at best.
By Mistake
Not all the stories here need to be fully real or fictional. Sometimes, they’re both. So let’s try this:
Late 1950s. Downtown Panama City. It was raining.
A man rushed through the wet streets. In the background, the radio played:
“And now… Please, Please, Please by James Brown…”
The road was slippery, but he didn’t care. He had to get there on time.
Tension filled the air. There was talk of unrest near the U.S. military bases. President Eisenhower was scheduled to visit Panama in less than a month, and the Panamanian government, led by Ernesto de la Guardia Jr….was preparing to use the moment. They wanted the Panamanian flag flying alongside the U.S. flag in the Canal Zone.
De la Guardia was no populist. A conservative from Panama’s so-called elite, he wasn’t widely liked. He had narrowly escaped political defeat—once by the National Assembly, and later at the hands of Roberto Arias.
“If there’s no parking, I’ll make one.”
James Brown kept singing: “Please don’t goooo…”
The man glanced at the newspaper on the passenger seat. Rolled up but still readable:
“Margot Fonteyn does it again! Standing ovation at Royal Ballet Gala… Exclusive with her husband, Tito Arias.”
He entered the hospital, breathless.
“Where is she?”
“She’s recovering. Everything went as planned.”
He walked in.
“Pacheca, how do you feel?”
“It’s a girl,” she said.
“Want to hold her?”
He did. And in that first warm touch—full of raw, undeserved love—he found something lasting. That connection would stay unbroken for 48 years, until his last breath.
As if he could see the future—dancing with her as an adult, at her graduation, long before any of it happened.
Her giving birth… then again, giving birth once more. Her taking care of him years later, through cancer, through recovery. And then, two decades on, in old age and sickness, still by his side. Selfless. Until the goodbye. Until his last breath.
A nurse interrupted.
“We need to register the baby. Can you fill these out?”
He sat, sipped a hospital coffee, glanced at the paper.
What name should I give her?
He flipped through the pages.
There she was. An icon.
“Marilyn Monroe begins filming ‘Some Like It Hot.’”
Marilyn Monroe… How to make it sound Spanish?
Mary-Lin… María Elena.
Ahh…both of her grandmothers.
Yes, that felt right. Nailed it.
He started to write…
Date of birth…wait, what day is it?
Where’s the nurse?
Never mind.
He looked back at the newspaper.
The Panama American, in English.
Maybe someone at the base gave it to me…
Date on the front page: May 10th, 1958.
Strange… He could’ve sworn it was already June.
Oops?
Talking about influence…
If there’s been a parent figure in my life who helped shape my routines, it’s my grandpa Rodrigo. He was up early every day, always had a project or a task, but never rushed through any of it. He loved his coffee, brewed it himself. Took his time to brine the meat. Loved fetching freshly baked bread. And never skipped the melados—those sticky, honey-glazed buns. Pure joy. He handed out nicknames like candy, played with pets, and drove his old car like it just rolled off the lot. And never forget his Friday ritual … gumbo at Don Sammy’s.
He genuinely enjoyed life….
And the way he shaped me, he shaped others too.
He taught us how to move around a house—how to hammer a nail, use a screwdriver (always Phillips, of course), drill, paint, build, fix. Whatever was needed, with whatever was around. Anyone who spent even a little time learning from him walked away with something useful.
That’s the kind of presence I hope to be.
Thats Influence!
A Pikachu Named Jhonny B
Now, for those of you who know my dad… you know Jhonny B is a character. My sister Joanna once described him as a Pikachu. That’s right—an electric rat. I asked GPT to bring that wild image to life… take a look!
His own bio? “Santeño en Soltura.” A man from Los Santos on the loose. I’ll let you fill in the blanks there.
But one thing’s for sure, I learned a lot from him. Not in the scripted, sentimental, TV drama kind of way.
I learned how to question everything. How narratives bend reality in your favor. How you can be in two places at once—or at least at the right one when you’re late. How to enjoy Hotel California. The existence of heavy metal. How far a smile and small talk can take you. That when it matters, you show up. Well… sometimes.
And yeah, I also learned about the reality of addiction. That debt brings stress, stress kills focus, and one option is to hide from everything. Don’t take responsibility. Bury your head like an ostrich.
But there’s one teaching that stuck the most.
A moment where the universe aligned, and somehow, he said something that sounded like a Zen koan wrapped in street wisdom. His weirdest and best line:
“Trust no one… not even your father.”
So yes, I’ve been influenced. I carry that influence with me. And some of it, I’ll pass on. The parts that are worth it.
The Future: A Sketch… and a Little More
Because the secret isn’t running from influence. It’s recognizing it. Naming it. That’s how you make real choices.
As part of the IDEO course, we were asked to build an artifact—something to represent the future we see for our challenge. I sketched mine first (been enjoying the sketching thing lately).
Then came the writing. We could write anything: a story, a post… I wrote a poem.
And here it is.
“Sounds… Idea… A Story… Intention!
By Joel Barsallo
Shhhh… don’t make any noise
sweat running down the forehead
then something cold, like a ghost,
crawled through the spine
Plank plank boom…
boom boom plank…
plink slaaap
bbooom plank!
That noise!
I can’t move…
I’m afraid to watch
but my ears buzz!!
there are those blimmms and bamsss,
the clanks and chunks!!!
I’m sure it was there…
A phone rings… let it ring!
notifications, reels, posts…
“you missed someone’s live…”
“you missed a post…”
“you have a hundred emails”
Wait, the weather… it’s raining in Manchester…
I haven’t been there for a while.
More messages.
Fireworks… that’s it? blaaaam!
fake and real news…
but how do I know they’re real?
can I trust…?
Wait no no… focus.
Well… I have to eat first…
Did I eat already?
Nah.
But what…?
There’s something in the fridge…
hmmmm…..
I remember there was a burger
I wanted to try!
Is it still available?
What week is this?
Wait, is this taco week?
Yeah!
Let’s check… what? how much?! nah too expensive…
Two hours… too long…
Plank… blaammm blammm
plank plank boom
boom boom plank
plank
I’ll pick it up… wait, no
look at the traffic
That feeling again… shit! I forgot!
What time is it?
My watch says I can still make my steps…
I should walk!
But didn’t I say I should stop…
don’t make any noise
or should I make noise…?
I’ll walk
Should I peep?
Nah… I need to look!
What? Did someone call?
Maybe it’s my boss?
Or… did I forget to feed the cat?
Nah, the cat has a feeder, duh!
Wait… where was I???
Shit… can’t remember…
ah…
No
I need to look
Open your eyes
Think… why are you here?
Of course…!!!
That sound again… plank plank boom
boom boom plank…
Ahh I know what to do!…
The process! I master it now!
What was my idea?…
blam skank chuk…
Plim bluh booom…
The map said there was going to be noise…
but little by little…
Shhh… concentrate…
the sound is fading…
boom blank splat!
booom… baamm…
plank boom boom
boom… bo… b…
Ah, clarity…
Now start walking
Start watching
Ahh… I know what I need to do
Now the sound is intentional!”
Does the poem capture what it feels like to make a decision?
Let me know—I’m always curious how these stories land.
So for all of you who’ve been reading these newsletters… you’ve seen how my little project has evolved. You’ve helped me shape this…and hey, by the way, the course? I just finished it. Yes, I’m now officially certified by IDEO in Change Leadership (applause to me, thanks!).
My challenge, the one I chose to work on, is something personal: helping my close circle—family, friends, peers—become more aware of the decisions they make, and the influence behind them.
Let’s keep working together. I’m sure change is happening, little by little.
And it would feel off not to recognize one of the oldest and clearest sources of influence: a parent. Or a parental figure. Not always the picture-perfect type. Sometimes it’s a Vader. Or worse.
Parents shape us. Not always in textbook ways. Sometimes it’s the aunts and uncles. The grandmas and neighbors. The weird family friend who showed up on holidays and dropped life advice in one-liners.
In my case, I’m thankful for all of them. Because if I’d only had my father—well, my story would’ve turned out very differently.
And if nothing else, now you’ve got something real to bring up at your Father’s Day gathering. Not just the barbecue or the gifts. You’ve got the real Vader line. The real origin story behind the holiday. A reminder that we’re all shaped by someone—whether they meant to shape us or not.
That’s the point, isn’t it?
You can treat this day like a formality, or you can take a moment to reflect. No right or wrong way. Just your way.
But maybe—just maybe—it’s worth asking:
Why does this person matter to you?
What have they passed on, consciously or not?
What kind of influence are you leaving behind?
That’s what I’m trying to explore here, with these stories, and with the people around me. To pay attention. To notice who shaped me. And to choose what I pass on.
Like Rodrigo, who taught with melados and a toolbox.
Like Jhonny B, a mischief machine spinning life into versions of the truth.
Like María Elena, who leads with patience and presence.
Because influence doesn’t always announce itself. But it lingers. It roots. And it grows in others.
So I’ll ask again:
Who’s been an influential parent or figure in your life—and why?
Drop a comment. And if this resonated, subscribe for more.