My Dad Always Went Big. And Man, Am I Thankful.

In an intimate glimpse into the life of Lorenzo Miguel Bonifacio, son of Globe’s esteemed Chief Artificial Intelligence and Chief Information Security Officer, Anton Bonifacio, we are taken on a heartfelt journey. Lorenzo shares how his dad’s influence shaped him into the person he is today, and how he always went big for him.

He drops quantum mechanics on me when I was 13. He’s always knee-deep into something—optimal nutrition for muscle building, why Goodyear welts last longer than glued soles, or why working buttonholes on a three-roll-two jacket are the pinnacle of craftsmanship. We’d use clothes hangers as swords and warglaives during play-fights. Reenact the opening scene from the Justice League cartoon like it was a weekend tradition.

The Dad I had growing up went big even on the most mundane moments—and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hi, I’m Lorenzo! You might know my dad, Anton Bonifacio—Globe’s Chief Artificial Intelligence and Chief Information Security Officer. A boss and colleague to most, but to me? He’s the coolest dad out there.

He’s Always Gone Big on Passion

Dad has always been a trailblazer. I grew up hearing story after story about how he was always the youngest-something. The youngest BBS operator in the Philippines. The youngest to get certified in X, Y, and Z. One of the youngest execs in every company he joined.

Time and time again these stories were retold, and every time the same common denominator—his unapologetic attitude, his relentlessness, and how he is unafraid to push the envelope in everything that he does—because when he’s into something, he’s into it.

The Small Moments Were the Big Ones

But here’s what mattered most to me: he also went big on the small moments. The best memories weren’t some grand trip or big milestone. They were the in-between hours at home, where we’d bond over whatever we were geeking out about.

A core memory I always go back to: I was maybe five or six. I remember Dad lifting me up and setting me on his lap to watch him play the video game, World of Warcraft (WoW). I remember it like it happened yesterday. He was raiding Blackwing Lair on his Night Elf Hunter, Villandra. It was the second boss, the red dragon, Vaelastrasz the Corrupt.

He loved the game and he shared that world with me. I basically “grew up” in Azeroth. There is something incredibly special about having that “binding agent” with your father. For some, it’s basketball. For us, it was gaming.

Where I Learned to Go Big on Excellence

Yes, WoW was a pastime, but it was also an outlet for our shared quirk of wanting to optimize every little detail—gear, rotation, everything. It was the avenue by which Dad imparted the life lesson of “obsessive excellence.”

As I got older, we pushed harder content together. We’d send screenshots of our Mythic Plus Rating to each other to see who was higher on the leaderboard. And of course, he always beat me. He even broke into the top 10 of the U.S. region at one point. Classic Dad.

It all underlined the tenet of never settling for mediocrity. He made sure I understood that even in games, you don’t settle. You push. You chase mastery. You go big or don’t bother. To think I learned that by playing video games with my dad.

The screenshot above shows us strategizing “optimal placement of structures” in the video game Civilization VI. I know. What a pair of nerds. But that’s sort of the point: growing up as Dad’s son? Being a nerd is cool.

He Taught Me to Punch Above My Weight

One of the biggest things I’ve learned from him is the importance of punching above your weight class. Don’t wait for permission. Don’t wait until you’re “ready.” Step up and figure it out on the way.

He modeled that every single day, and it influenced many of the decisions I’ve made—whether it was building something new in school, exploring different career paths, or learning to speak with clarity and conviction in front of executives like him.

Because of him, the big things don’t intimidate me as much. That confidence to stretch beyond what feels “safe” or “comfortable” and the ability to carve out opportunities for real growth and learning came from watching Dad do it again and again.

When He Shows Up, He Shows All the Way Up

I’m sure most people in Globe are well aware of his brilliance, but his willingness to share that “built different” mind of his so generously with his loved ones—that’s a special thing.

What makes Dad awesome is that he’s the greatest enabler. Any desire of yours (for so long as it's gone through an ample sense check), he’ll surge forward and help make them happen for you. That’s his love language to everyone in the family. “Getting into a new hobby? Here, get all the tools and resources you could possibly need.” All you have to do is put in the work. “Exploring a career horizon? Let me make a few calls.”

Beyond that, something I’ve begun appreciating more and more recently is how genuinely excited and invested he gets when you engage him in what you do. In college, Dad was a huge part of my student leadership arc. And if you know him, you know—he’s intense. He’d catch me thinking small and go, “No, let’s think ten steps ahead.”

Looking back at those conversations now, what a gem it is to have a parent who cares that much about what’s going on in your life and is willing to spend three or four hours on some odd afternoon theorycrafting and strategizing with you. I’ve come to realize that as part of his “enabler” love language too—working through things with you, sharing his mastermind insights, and getting you to be more ambitious than you may have been letting yourself.

The Gift of Perspective

One of the most life-shaping things he ever told me happened in 2013. I just entered high school, having a bad day. It was a cold and windy night.

He sat me down on the balcony and asked “Anak, how do you change the world?” I gave him some unimpressive answer, which he nodded at thoughtfully before delivering the greatest piece of “Dad advice”. He said: “You change the world by changing the way you look at it.”

That alone was an immensely profound bit of wisdom. It stopped me cold. And then, of course, he went full Anton Bonifacio mode citing The Elegant Universe and the Schrödinger’s Cat thought experiment: “If our observation can turn a particle into a wave, then you can turn a bad day into a good one. You can change your reality by how you choose to see it.”

He drops quantum mechanics on me. I was 13. Still, helping me unlock the ability to reframe and choose my perspective towards whatever life threw at me—especially that early on? It was like a cheat code in a lot of ways. Rock bottoms became springboards, winters and thunderstorms could be made to be as beautiful as sunny days, and no moment was without its lesson to learn. 

We closed the night with him forcing me to watch The Matrix. A) Because it’s one of his favorite movies (I’m pretty sure Neo alongside Kevin Mitnick were the pegs behind his illustrious tech career); and B) Because the “there is no spoon” scene perfectly captured everything.

I carry this conversation with me to this day—as I likely will for the rest of my life.

The Older I Get, the Bigger the Dragons

This was taken in 2009—the first time we traveled abroad together. We were in the jungle area of Hong Kong Disneyland. I was about 10. Dad? Around 27.

I’m 26 now. Turning 27 soon.

When I look at this photo, it hits me: everything I’m feeling now—questions about career, love, purpose—Dad went through all of that... with a 10-year-old by his side.

That humbles me. And it washes over me with a kind of gratitude I can’t put into words.

And now that I’m older, there are bigger dragons. I start to wonder: what dragons did Dad have to slay?

Because through everything, Dad never bent. Never broke. He’s been our family’s center of gravity. No matter how shaky life got, he was someone you could hold onto and find your footing again.

It reminds me of that scene from How I Met Your Mother, about how dads can drive through pitch-black streets or thick fog, and yet you still feel so safe with them at the wheel. That said, I don’t think it’s about being impenetrable, necessarily. It’s about stability.

I’m very lucky to have a dad who gives that “I’ve got you no matter what” kind of love day in and day out.

Here's a video of me and my dad savoring the moment by the river.

More Than a Dad—He’s My Best Friend

Dad became a father so young, I imagine he had to speed-run adulthood. I only recently emerged from my “early twenties” and... man, that was a ride. Dad had to go through that whirlwind with me in tow. And honestly? That created something special. It made us the best of friends. Our shared hobbies, our shared quirks.. All of it added layers to our relationship.

We’ve seen different versions of each other over the years—and loved each one.

The thing about Dad and I is that we’re virtually identical in how we spend our free time. That is, you’ll probably find us hyperfixating on some hobby or interest on any given weekend. While Dad is tinkering with one of his gadgets, I’m writing my next Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Dad goes to the gym; I go for a rock climbing session.

The bonding happens in those odd, in-between moments at home when we end up talking about our passions with one another. He is always knee-deep into something—and that means he always has something new to share with you—optimal nutrition for muscle building, why Goodyear welts last longer than glued soles, or why working buttonholes on a three-roll-two jacket are the pinnacle of craftsmanship.

He’ll go out of his way to ask about whatever you’ve taken an interest in, too. Those interactions—the ones where he and I indulge each other and make space to talk about the sparks in our lives—are what keep us close.

For all his “aura,” Dad is still a huge dork—just like me!

Growing up, we’d use clothes hangers as swords and warglaives when play-fighting. We’d re-enact the opening scene from the Justice League cartoon—he’d do the Batman batarang throw, and I’d be Superman punching through a wall. 

When I was around nine years old, I was really into High School Musical. One of my favorite memories with Dad was riding around the village in the dead of night, windows rolled down, belting out “The Boys Are Back” from the third movie.

And that’s the wild part. He’s all of these nerdy, dorky things—and somehow is still one of the most charismatic and brilliant people in the world. The amount of depth the man has is a marvel.

Dad always went big. On his passions. On his purpose. On parenting. And for that, I’m the luckiest son in the world.

That’s what Father’s Day has come to mean to me: an appreciation for that kind of love. A love propels you forward and gives you the confidence to go big on your pursuits and aspirations in life.

Dad and I would joke to each other that—because of our age gap—him and I are effectively going to be Lolos together down the line. When he's 70, I'll be in my 50s too. Haha! So certainly a world where he and I are sitting in front of a river again as two old men—having gone through it all together.

Hey, Dad! This is all a mere fragment of the gratitude I have for you. I'll likely spend a whole lifetime and then some searching for ways to show it. 

Regardless—thank you for being who you are. For in so doing, you allow so many to simultaneously feel safe to be themselves and push for more. 

Love you, Dad! Happy Father's Day! 

Like Lorenzo, how do you go big for your dad or the father figures in your life? Share your story below—let’s celebrate the meaningful ways we show our love and gratitude this Father’s Day. Follow Globe on LinkedIn.