Cupid, Emeril, George Rodrigue, more: Read Father’s Day letters from across Louisiana

Fathers shape us in ways both big and small. Their words, actions, silences — even their absences — leave lasting imprints that ripple into the next generation.

In celebration of Father’s Day, the newspaper invited notable Louisianans and their children to write letters to their fathers — some still living and others long gone. The letters recall the shared bonds of Louisiana football fandom, working boots, cabbage soup diets, trips to the Grand Canyon, the value of taking right turns and how to make a roux. Some letters grapple with divorce, sobriety and making peace with memories.

The reflections offer glimpses into the men who shaped their lives, childhoods and worldviews.

Whether your own father is present or a memory, near or far, we hope these letters resonate — and perhaps inspire one of your own.  — Jan Risher, Louisiana culture editor

From Basketball Hall of Famer Seimone Augustus to her father Seymore Augustus 

For Seymore Augustus.

Through quiet strength and stories told.

There stands a man who showed the way.

With wisdom deep and a steady mind.

His hands were rough, his heart was kind,

He taught me how to stand up tall,

To rise again with every fall.

He showed that love wears working boots,

And sometimes speaks in silence, roots.

He never asked for thanks or praise

Each word he gave, was a seed that grew

And shaped the best in what I do.

So here’s his place, beyond acclaim

A rightful spot in the Father’s Day Hall of Fame.

Not for records or riches,

But for being MY DAD, his truest name.

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From television journalist David Begnaud to his father Glenn Begnaud in Lafayette 

My dad has always been the guy with all the answers — or at least the confidence to pretend he did. Take driving, for example. “Always take right turns,” he preached like it was a law of nature. Left turns? Dangerous. Reckless. The worst idea in the world. I believed him until I turned 15, took a left turn, and crashed.

I wasn’t so worried about the accident as I was about telling him. Turns out, UPS drivers really do take right turns for safety and efficiency — but my dad never needed facts to insist he was right.

Then one day, as an adult, he said the unthinkable: “I don’t know.” That shook me. The man who seemed to know everything was admitting he didn’t have all the answers. That moment made me feel like I’d grown up.

My dad’s not just about rules and certainty. He helped integrate his high school prom. He fought for what was right, even if it meant doing things off-site. That kind of courage and conviction is what I respect most.

So, this Father’s Day, I’m grateful — for his stubbornness, his wisdom, his flaws, and most of all, his love. He’s the man who guided me, sometimes by example, sometimes by sheer force of will, and always with heart.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad.

Thanks for being you, 

David

From Bryson “Cupid” Bernard to his father Corinthian Bernard 

Hey Dad!

Mr. Corinthian Joseph Bernard, Sr., Happy Fathers Day.

Just want to say I appreciate you and all the things you instilled in me as a hard worker. The lessons and the discipline you taught me helps me raise my boys today.

I learned how to stand in business and say what I have to say no matter how much it might sting — but in the direction of love. What’s understood never has to be explained.

I’m just grateful that we have the relationship we have and I just want you let you know I’m eternally grateful.

Love you man!

Bryson Bernard

From chef E.J. Lagasse to his father chef Emeril Lagasse 

Dad,

You taught me how to peel carrots and how to care for others around me. You showed me how to tie a tie and make a roux. Taught me the right amount of cream in a barbecue shrimp and to keep my chin up in a moment of defeat.

You showed me how to find the good, even on bad days. You taught me to have a firm handshake and make every sauce with love. You showed me how to pick the perfect fish at the market and to navigate a room full of strangers.

You brought me to bucket-list restaurants a world away but reminded me nothing topped New Orleans. You taught me the importance of the kitchen table and that, as humans, we could all relate to food.

You warned me of the mistakes you made, in hopes I wouldn’t follow suit. You taught me to clap, cry, or laugh when friends needed it. You told me to always make extra, in the event someone stops by. You made me understand that food is the highest form of love.

All the memories and all the moments, you and I have shared some special times together. These are just a few of the life lessons I’ve picked up from you along the way.

You’ve spent your time mentoring those around you, all while learning something new every day.

After all, life is like a great dish. It is all about right balance.

Happy Father’s Day to my oldest friend, my idol, my chef, my dad.

With great love and admiration,

E.J.

State poet laureate Alison Pelegrin wrote this poem in honor of her father, Irvin Pelegrin 

Sucker

I was a sucker for my daddy, an addict at heart,

always hooked on something—Drambuie,

the cabbage soup diet, Cajun dancing,

hauling Yankees on the tour bus up and down

River Road to ogle whitewashed plantations.

He once LARPed the vampire Lestat rising

from a grave because he was a sucker for Anne Rice.

He was a sucker for Wicks-n-Sticks, specifically

candles shaped like Buddha, and apartment living

after his divorces. He went hook, line,

and sinker for self-help, especially Dianetics,

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and though his toenails blackened, he ran across

the longest bridge in the world. Twice.

Then he took up ballroom dancing. He was

the world’s best drunk, and after he dried out

he was a sucker for AA. He was a sucker

for fathering off-shoremen bailed from the drunk tank,

for naming these chain-smoking men my uncles,

the women my aunts, and life became a pot-luck

of talking through the night while the kids slept in cars.

I was a sucker for sitting under the fig tree

behind The Camel Club thinking no one could see me

study him, golden-haired and calm, everyone’s father

but mine, a sucker for all-nighters, for burnt coffee,

for not looking away when sobriety’s Adams

named the worst horrors of their lives.

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From community leader and former Southern University administrator Press Robinson to his father,  Prince Robinson, Jr.  

Dear Dad,

Happy Everlasting Father’s Day!

Even though you are no longer alive, I just wanted to take a moment to reflect on your life, your legacy, and the significant impact you have had, and continue to have, on my life. This tribute would mean much more if you were still here to read it yourself. But God decided otherwise and took you away some thirty-six years ago.

Your presence is remembered through the lessons you taught, the values you practiced, and the kindness you showed daily.

My life is what it is today because I have lived it according to your examples, which provide comfort, inspiration, and daily guidance.

I have learned so much from you, not just through the words you used, which I constantly refer to, but through your humble actions, steadfast integrity, and being a man of your word. You often reminded me that “an apple does not fall far from its tree,” and what a tall and strong tree you were, and still are, to me. And as children often do, I didn’t always show my appreciation for your steady hand, common sense, and value of hard work.

On this day in history, in your absence, I profess my love and thank you for setting the example of how to love, show wisdom, be a father, and be a man all in one. With pride, I celebrate you today as the remarkable father you were and whose influence endures beyond words and time.

Press L. Robinson Sr.

From Jacques Rodrigue to his father, the Louisiana artist George Rodrigue 

Dear Dad,

Nearly 12 years since you’ve been gone, yet your presence still guides me daily. You always supported your boys, André and me, and those memories fill my heart with gratitude for the lessons, love, and laughter. I recall our gallery home childhood, playing pool, watching Letterman while you painted, me on my canvas beside your easel.

I remember you on every adventure, recalling road trips in the van with my friends to art shows from coast to coast. You installed a TV/VCR for Nintendo and movies like Airplane!, Monty Python, and Mel Brooks classics we were probably too young for. While most adults dreaded managing kids, you dove in, spending weeks alone with us, laughing like one of us, making experiences like the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas birthdays unforgettable.

Our Saints and LSU fandom bonded us; Mardi Gras was electric with your revelry. For your 60th, we performed an epic Blues Brothers routine.

I strive to honor you, passing your traits and memories to my son, hoping to be the dad you were to me. You would’ve been an incredible grandfather. We miss you deeply. Thank you. Happy Father’s Day.

With gratitude,

Jacques Rodrigue