My dad, Leo E. Perino, passed away quietly at the end of May 2026, just weeks after he retired, and this piece pulls together the simple, stubborn lessons he left behind. It’s a personal look at how one man shaped two daughters through steady habits: treating us as equals, making reading and thinking a daily thing, pushing us to speak up, grounding us in faith, and offering judgment-free support when life got messy. These moments aren’t sermons; they’re small actions that stacked into confidence and comfort. This is a note of thanks and a map for anyone trying to be a father who matters.
When Dad died, it hit like an odd missing beat in the day. He went to sleep and didn’t wake up, at 79, after retiring less than a month earlier. He loved his work and he loved his daughters, and those two truths defined him. Losing him turned ordinary memories into the kind of stories that keep you smiling through the ache.
FATHERS PLAY CRUCIAL ROLE FOR DAUGHTERS’ MENTAL HEALTH, SONS’ SCHOOL BEHAVIOR, STUDY FINDS
He taught equality without speeches. Angie and I grew up in the 1970s, in the thick of the girl power vibe, and Dad never made equality into a lecture. Instead, he lived it and said plainly that girls could aim for the top and not shrink their goals because of gender. I wore an ugly yellow T-shirt that said “Anything boys can do, girls can do better.” and it lodged itself in my head like a promise.
1. Early and consistent reinforcement of equality. That steady message rewired how I saw possibilities. It wasn’t about rebellion or slogans; it was about a simple, repeated expectation that we could do hard things and be taken seriously. That kind of reinforcement is quiet but powerful, and it shaped the way I set goals and who I thought I could become.
2. Education and reading — a priority. Reading was a ritual in our house, not a homework chore. In third grade Dad made me read the morning papers and pick two stories to discuss with him before he came home. He subscribed to magazines, we swapped pages, and the exercise taught me how to follow ideas, spot what mattered, and form an opinion.
That habit of reading taught more than facts. It taught how to think clearly and how to hold a view while staying open to challenge. Those discussions, started over kitchen counters and car rides, turned into a lifelong appetite for learning and a comfort with public conversation that paid off in ways I couldn’t have planned.
3. Get them talking. He pushed me to speak up and then listened. Dad would challenge my ideas, debate lightly, and then affirm when it mattered. Practicing that back-and-forth made me comfortable facing bosses, large audiences, and difficult conversations later in life.
When a dad pays attention to a daughter’s voice, he gives her a tool she’ll use forever. Confidence in speech is not natural to everyone; it’s built. My dad’s patient way of nudging me into debate and giving me room to find my voice made the difference.
4. Faith. Faith was another steadying thread, not a loud proclamation. My sister and I used to argue about which church service to attend, and those Sunday mornings became rituals that stitched our family together. The values we learned there have been anchors through grief and joy alike, offering perspective when life gets confusing.
5. Leading without judgment. After grad school I realized I’d earned a degree in something I didn’t want to do and felt like a failure. I braced to hear disappointment from him; instead he said, “That’s great. We’ll just drive you back here after graduation and you’ll figure it out.” His response unclenched me. Later, when my sister faced a big choice, he didn’t quiz her — he asked, “How can I help?”
That refusal to judge turned him into a safe place where we could land without worry. A good father protects, yes, but he also becomes the kind of person you run to when the world feels too much. Dad gave us that refuge over and over.
At his bedside sat his copy of Purple State, bookmarked on page 289; he had forty pages left to read. That small detail both crushed and comforted me, because it showed him as he was: quietly engaged, already partway through another story. We didn’t get his last page, but we lived with the ending he gave us — a life of steady love and unshowy lessons.
Thanks, Dad. And to all the girl dads out there: you matter more than you can ever know.
