When I was just two years old, my next-door neighbor in Victoria, Texas, became more than just a kind face waving across the fence. His name was Milton West, but to me, he was always “Mr. Chip.” He had worked hard his whole life, retiring as an operator from DOW Chemical. But what made him unforgettable had nothing to do with his job — it was the way he stepped into a role I didn’t even know I needed filled.

You see, I grew up without a father. That kind of absence leaves holes — not just in day-to-day life, but in how you see yourself and the world. But life, in its quiet grace, found a way to fill those holes with people who cared. And one of the greatest among them was Mr. Chip.

He wasn’t related to me by blood, but he loved me like family. He taught me things no textbook could ever cover. He showed me how to mow a lawn with pride, how to shake someone’s hand with confidence, and how to treat my mother with the utmost respect — like a queen. He taught me to judge a person by their character, not the color of their skin. He emphasized the importance of education, of staying curious and working hard. Through him, I learned about respect, responsibility, and what it means to be a man of integrity.

Those lessons didn’t just help me grow up — they helped shape who I am today: a better son, a better man, and now, a better father. And for all of that, I will be forever grateful.

This past May, my wife and I welcomed our beautiful baby boy into the world — Bob Wayne Shugart. A new chapter of life began for us, but something even more beautiful happened when we introduced him to Mr. Chip and his lovely wife, Shirley. The bond was immediate. It wasn’t long before they were holding him like he’d always been a part of their hearts.

And then one day, during a quiet visit, Mr. Chip looked down at little Bob Wayne and, with a big smile on his face, said, “I want him to call me Pop.”

Just like that, he became Pop. And Shirley? Well, she became “Lolli.” So now, when we talk about them, they are simply Lolli and Pop — and that’s exactly who they are to our son.

Now, every time we say to Bob Wayne, “We’re going to see Lolli Pop,” his little face lights up with joy. It’s a reminder of how love can be passed down, even across generations, in the most unexpected ways. And deep down, I pray that my son will grow up learning even half of what Pop taught me. If he does, I know he’ll grow into a strong, kind, and thoughtful man.

These days, it’s easy to get lost in the noise — the headlines, the division, the tension. But when I look at my life, I see a different story. I see a young boy from Texas, raised and shaped by a man who had no obligation to be there — but chose to be anyway. I see that same man, decades later, proudly stepping into the role of grandfather to my son, calling himself Pop without hesitation.

That’s love. That’s family. And that’s the kind of hope the world needs to hear more about.

Because sometimes, the family you’re born into isn’t the one who raises you. Sometimes, God gives you exactly who you need — a Lolli and a Pop — to remind you that family isn’t just about DNA. It’s about devotion, kindness, and love that shows up day after day, year after year.

This may just be one story from a small Texas town. But I know in my heart that there are countless others like it out there — stories of chosen family, of love that crosses all boundaries, and of people who step in when they don’t have to.

And that’s what gives me hope — not just for my son, but for all of us.