Parenting with Presence: Lessons from My Amazing Dad
A daughter’s tribute to a Dad who listened, loved, and led by example
May 23, 2025
Editor’s Note: At 1-800-Flowers.com, we know that the best stories come from the heart and, sometimes, from our own hallways. For Father’s Day, we asked our head of experiences, Bridget Costello, to write about someone who’s meant the world to her: her Amazing Dad, William Hogue.
Bill, as he’s known to friends and family, spent much of his career in the magazine world, with bylines in Worth, Glamour, Parents, and more. He’s also shared his love of storytelling with students as a professor. But to Bridget, he’s simply Dad — steadfast, inspiring, and nothing short of amazing.
When I think about how to describe my father, William Hogue, I think of connection. He’s the kind of person who talks to strangers in elevators, who asks the checkout clerk how their day is going, who remembers your name, your story, and why it matters. He sees people. He listens. And if you’re lucky enough to be loved by him, you carry that feeling with you forever. I can only hope I am creating that kind of bond with my own three small children.
Over the years, I’ve come to see that the way my dad moves through the world isn’t just part of his personality — it’s how he parents. Being raised by someone like him means growing up surrounded by care, curiosity, and conviction. Here are just a few of the things I’ve learned from him—not just about parenting, but about how to be a person.
Everyone has a story, and it's worth hearing
“I talk to people because it's nice,” he once told me, after chatting warmly with a stranger in an elevator. “It’s weird to stand there and not say anything.” He said it like it was obvious.
But what really stuck with me was this: “Everyone has a story,” he said. “And that interests me.” That mindset was everywhere in his parenting. He asked us questions — real ones — and listened like our answers mattered. Because to him, they did.
He brought this sensibility to his work, too. A lifelong journalist, he spent years telling other people’s stories with care and integrity. One of his most meaningful professional chapters came when he worked at Parents Magazine — as a father of three — writing and editing for people who were trying, like he was, to raise thoughtful children.
Parenting is gratitude in motion
My dad is a Vietnam veteran. He was drafted at 20 and came home forever changed. He doesn’t often speak about the details, but when he does, he always circles back to the same point: how lucky he feels to have made it home.
Years later, looking at a photo from my brother’s wedding, he paused and counted everyone — himself, his wife, their children and grandchildren.
“None of these people would be here,” he said quietly, “if I hadn’t been lucky.”
That gratitude shaped everything. He didn't take fatherhood for granted. He parented with perspective, patience, and awe for the life he got to come back to.
He told me I could do anything
From the beginning, my dad believed in me with a certainty that changed everything. He didn’t just say I could do anything — he made me believe it.
He never asked if my dreams were practical. He never warned me not to aim too high. He trusted my instincts and told me, again and again, that I belonged anywhere I wanted to be.
Growing up, I always felt like my voice mattered. That I had something to say. That I had every right to say it. He made sure I knew that being a girl didn’t limit me; it expanded me.
“He didn’t just believe in me,” I’ve told people. “He made sure I believed in myself.”
Speak to children like they matter — because they do
My father speaks to children — really speaks to them. Whether it’s my three-year-old or a college student in his class, he meets them exactly where they are.
“I never liked that old idea that children should be seen and not heard,” he said. “I had an uncle who always talked to me like I was a real person. I loved him for that, and I try to do the same.”
And he does. He listens. He gets down on their level. He asks questions. He makes space for their feelings — even when they’re messy, even when they don’t make sense to anyone else.
“If a kid is upset, I ask why,” he says. “What’s going on? Why does this matter to you? It’s a big deal to them. That’s enough.”
There’s wisdom in youth — and comfort in their company
At 78 years old, my father is a college professor. He’s taught at the University of Wisconsin–Madison and now at Marist College, surrounded every day by students the same age he was when he went to war.
Why teach now?
“I love the company of young people,” he told me. “I’d rather be around people who have most of their life ahead of them than people who’ve already lived it.”
He talks about his students with reverence and respect. When others criticize “kids today,” he asks, “Do you actually know any young people?” Because he does. He teaches them, learns from them, and admires them. And they feel it.
His classroom is a space for connection, mutual respect, and hope.
The life he wrote every day
My father says that being a journalist made him curious and being a parent made him human.
He asked questions, listened hard, and wrote his life story one bedtime, one conversation, one quiet moment at a time. The man who helped others tell their stories made sure ours were heard, too.
He taught me that empathy is not a weakness. That listening is love. That children, from toddlers to teens, deserve to be taken seriously. And most of all, that love isn’t just something you feel. It’s how you show up, every single day.
AUTHOR
Bridget Hogue Costello is a seasoned experience strategist and brand leader, currently serving as head of experiences at 1-800-Flowers.com. She brings a people-first approach to customer engagement, blending creativity with operational excellence.
