Introduction:
Behind the velvet voice and decades of romance stands a father whose strength was not theatrical—it was elemental. Engelbert remembers his dad as stern, disciplined, and unwavering, a man tasked with raising ten children and doing so with an authority that never wavered. Yet beneath that firmness lived charisma and humor. He was a natural presence—magnetic, admired, even playful—someone who commanded respect without asking for it.
Those early years were not always calm. As a small boy living in India during the unrest that preceded the riots, Engelbert recalls the fear of hearing streets swell with chaos. Sounds carried menace; uncertainty lingered in the air. But one constant cut through it all: his father’s presence. “When I knew my father was there,” he remembers, “I felt safe.” That sense of safety became a lifelong anchor, a lesson learned not through words but through proximity.
What makes the story resonate even more is how that feeling traveled forward through generations. Years later, Engelbert noticed the same quiet magic in his own home. Returning from long tours to a large, echoing house in England, he’d light a cigar and unwind—a simple ritual. His youngest son later confessed that the scent alone brought comfort. It meant Dad was home. It meant the world was okay. Strength, it turns out, can be inherited not just by blood, but by memory.
Engelbert’s father was also a showman in his own right. At family gatherings, he’d demonstrate his physical power with a grin—balancing between chairs, inviting guests of any size to jump on his stomach without flinching. It wasn’t bravado; it was joy. A man comfortable in his skin, proud of what he could do, and happy to make others laugh.
Today, Engelbert sees his father everywhere—in the way he speaks, chews, gestures, even in the rhythm of his expressions. “I am my father’s son,” he says plainly, a statement both simple and profound. Grief remains, but so does gratitude. The man who once made a frightened boy feel safe left behind a legacy far stronger than muscle or discipline: a blueprint for presence.
On Father’s Day, Engelbert’s message is clear and tender. Call your dad. Remember him. Because sometimes the greatest inheritance isn’t fame or fortune—it’s the feeling that, no matter how loud the world becomes, someone strong is standing nearby.