Meta, Federico Rojas: The father of the father of Engadget
By Peter Rojas 
posted June 17th 2007 1:02PM
posted June 17th 2007 1:02PM
I've never written much about my personal life in the three years, three months, and two weeks since I started Engadget, but for this Father's Day I wanted to talk about the person who inspired my love of technology: my father Federico Rojas, who passed away very unexpectedly this past Wednesday.
My father wasn't a exactly a geek -- he was just a physician whose interests ranged far beyond medicine -- but he was most definitely a classic early adopter when it came to anything related to electronics, and I remember being in awe as a young boy whenever he'd bring home his latest discovery. Whether it was an 8-bit computer, an HDTV, a Laser Disc player (and then a DVD player), a surround sound system, etc, while I was growing up he was always consistently ahead of the curve and constantly wowing me with whatever new toy he was installing.
[That's my dad at right, in a picture from 1979 or 1980. I'm there on the left, my brother is on the right.]
One of my earliest memories of my father and technology dates back to 1980 when he bought a VCR. The VCR he'd purchased was a boxy, clunky affair with a wired remote, but we were all amazed that we could just watch a movie anytime we wanted, as many times as we wanted. At least when we were able to find videos to play on it. There was no such thing as a video store back then (at least not in Merced, California, where I grew up), but I remember vividly the first two VHS tapes he bought: Alien and Blazing Saddles, neither of which I was allowed to watch at the time. One day my dad brought home a copy of Empire Strikes Back way before it was officially released. I don't know where he got it from, but I do remember that we had so many people over to watch it that my dad split the signal from the VCR and set up a second feed on a TV in another room just for the kids. It seemed like magic to me that you could even do something like that.
Early the next year I had my tonsils removed and had to miss about two weeks of school. To help me pass the time my dad did what any responsible parent would do: he bought me an Atari 2600, which instantly made me the most popular kid in the neighborhood.
My father never took much interest in gaming -- he thought it was a little frivolous, if harmless. He was interested in computing, so not long after buying me the 2600 he bought an Atari 400 (and then later an Atari 800) for the family and then started to teach himself BASIC. My dad was never much of a programmer -- the only application I ever remember him creating was a very simple racing game -- but around this time he did take me along to a few meetings of the local computer enthusiasts group he belonged to.
From then on there wasn't a time when we didn't have a computer in the house. He realized pretty early on that computers were going to be the future and when I was about ten years old I remember him telling me one day that I needed to stop playing King's Quest and get better at using MS-DOS.
If anything, though, my father was an A/V guy at heart. He was an audiophile who used to tell me stories about how he'd been so obsessed with music that when he was a teenager he installed a portable turntable into the family car so they could listen to 45s on the road, a plan which backfired not because the needle would constantly skip (which it did), but because one day he parked the car in the sun and accidentally melted all of his favorite records. His quest for audio perfection led him to buy the first CD player sold in the US (the Sony CDP-101, which I actually found in a stack of old A/V components here in his house) and immediately started building a collection of CD's that numbers somewhere around 30,000 today. He did his best to get me hooked as well, and for my 13th birthday he gave me a Sony D-88 Pocket Discman, which was designed primarily for playing 3-inch CD-singles.
[Pictured at right: my dad in 1985 with the A/V rig he had set up in his bedroom. Note the Pioneer LaserDisc player at the bottom with the Sony CDP-101 just above it.]
As he got older it became more difficult for my father to keep up with the latest technology -- he just never got totally comfortable with spending time online -- but he was a lifelong photographer who dived right into the digital revolution, picking up one of the first digital Canon digital SLRs and converting our family room into a digital photography workshop, complete with a large-format Epson printer that he used for giant prints he sold to corporate clients. He loved being able to edit and correct his photos using a computer rather than a darkroom, and he spent hours scanning and organizing the tens of thousands of slides and negatives he had from before he made the switch to digital.
My father instilled me in his love for technology, but the most important things I learned from him have nothing to do with gadgets. Even though he loved gadgets and electronics, he never made them his life; they were just tools to make life easier or more enjoyable and were never a substitute for the friends, family, and patients that he always put first. (He was a fierce advocate for his patients; in all his years as an obstetrician he delivered almost 8,000 infants and never lost a single mother.)
What always amazed me about him was how multifaceted he was. He was an intellectually curious physician living in a small town who had traveled the world, read at least a book a week up until he died, could continually kick my ass in Scrabble even though he didn't learn English until he was 23, and knew practically everything there was to know about classical music, Spanish wines, and French cinema. All I wanted to be when I grew up was as smart as my dad.
I knew that on some level I disappointed him when I decided not to follow in his footsteps and become a doctor. He never really put much pressure on me to go to medical school or anything, but he did express his hope that I'd love medicine as much as he did. It took me a few years, but when I did finally figure out that I wanted to write about technology for a living he was tremendously supportive, and I remember how he'd always ask for extra copies of Red Herring so that he could send them to his brothers in South America. And when he told me that one of his patients had asked him if he was related to me, I knew he was proud of what I was doing -- and to show it he even started asking me for advice about what gadgets to buy.
It's difficult for me to write this. I've never shared much of my personal life on the site, mainly because I know that all of you read Engadget for the gadgets, not to hear me (or anyone else) whine about the details of what they did that day. But I also know that there wouldn't be an Engadget without my father -- and not just because he inspired my passion for technology, or that it's always been his dry, irreverent sense of humor that I've tried to emulate in my writing. He was the person who I turned to when I was wrestling with the decision to quit Gizmodo and start all over again with a new site, and he gave me the push in the right direction I needed.
My father grew up in an impoverished developing country where the only ticket out of poverty was to get an advanced degree and get a "safe" job as a doctor or a lawyer or an engineer, so it was a big deal for me when he said that I needed to take a risk and toss everything aside to start Engadget. When I was home for Christmas in 2003 we stayed up late almost every night talking, and he gave me the confidence I needed to take the plunge and create the site when I was terrified about taking a chance on something that might fail. Even though he had worked all his life for the kind of financial security he never had growing up, he also believed that you should never spend a second of your life doing something you didn't care about, and he knew how much I loved blogging. He saw potential in me that I didn't see in myself.
That's why one of the happiest moments in my life was when he was able to come to an Engadget reader meetup in San Francisco. It meant a lot to me for him to see how successful Engadget had become, and it was so gratifying seeing him geek out with our readers, showing off his Canon EOS 5D to a fellow photographer and talking about and playing with all the gadgets on display like everyone else.
So maybe it's not all that surprising that this past Sunday the very last conversation I had with my father -- just three days before his untimely death -- was about gadgets. He wanted to tell me about the new HDMI-enabled A/V receiver he'd just installed and about how this new universal remote he'd bought wasn't working properly. He even wanted some insider info on whether he should buy a replacement or whether there was a new version that wasn't announced yet that he should wait for. I advised him to wait, and promised that when I was back home in California next month I'd help him get everything set up.
I expected I'd spend this Father's Day on the phone with him, maybe talking about the new two megapixel cameraphone he was using for casual photos (he'd just bought a 1GB microSD card for storing more pictures on the go) and my upcoming wedding that is now just six weeks away. Instead I'm spending it in his home, surrounded by his family and friends, wishing that I had one last chance to help him troubleshoot his Sonos, or watch Da Ali G Show with him, or sit at his computer while he showed me photos from his last trip, or talk about what it was like growing up in Peru (he had so many amazing stories which I'd love to hear him tell again). I'll never have a chance to do any of that again, but I'm beyond grateful for the 32 years I was able to spend with him.
My father was an intensely private person who'd probably be embarrassed that I'm even talking about him here, but he was a good, honest, highly principled man who did everything he could to give his family a life that was better than the one he'd had growing up in Peru -- and the world deserves to know it. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to live up to the example he set for me. Thanks for letting me share this with you.
My father wasn't a exactly a geek -- he was just a physician whose interests ranged far beyond medicine -- but he was most definitely a classic early adopter when it came to anything related to electronics, and I remember being in awe as a young boy whenever he'd bring home his latest discovery. Whether it was an 8-bit computer, an HDTV, a Laser Disc player (and then a DVD player), a surround sound system, etc, while I was growing up he was always consistently ahead of the curve and constantly wowing me with whatever new toy he was installing.
[That's my dad at right, in a picture from 1979 or 1980. I'm there on the left, my brother is on the right.]
One of my earliest memories of my father and technology dates back to 1980 when he bought a VCR. The VCR he'd purchased was a boxy, clunky affair with a wired remote, but we were all amazed that we could just watch a movie anytime we wanted, as many times as we wanted. At least when we were able to find videos to play on it. There was no such thing as a video store back then (at least not in Merced, California, where I grew up), but I remember vividly the first two VHS tapes he bought: Alien and Blazing Saddles, neither of which I was allowed to watch at the time. One day my dad brought home a copy of Empire Strikes Back way before it was officially released. I don't know where he got it from, but I do remember that we had so many people over to watch it that my dad split the signal from the VCR and set up a second feed on a TV in another room just for the kids. It seemed like magic to me that you could even do something like that. Early the next year I had my tonsils removed and had to miss about two weeks of school. To help me pass the time my dad did what any responsible parent would do: he bought me an Atari 2600, which instantly made me the most popular kid in the neighborhood.
My father never took much interest in gaming -- he thought it was a little frivolous, if harmless. He was interested in computing, so not long after buying me the 2600 he bought an Atari 400 (and then later an Atari 800) for the family and then started to teach himself BASIC. My dad was never much of a programmer -- the only application I ever remember him creating was a very simple racing game -- but around this time he did take me along to a few meetings of the local computer enthusiasts group he belonged to.
From then on there wasn't a time when we didn't have a computer in the house. He realized pretty early on that computers were going to be the future and when I was about ten years old I remember him telling me one day that I needed to stop playing King's Quest and get better at using MS-DOS.
If anything, though, my father was an A/V guy at heart. He was an audiophile who used to tell me stories about how he'd been so obsessed with music that when he was a teenager he installed a portable turntable into the family car so they could listen to 45s on the road, a plan which backfired not because the needle would constantly skip (which it did), but because one day he parked the car in the sun and accidentally melted all of his favorite records. His quest for audio perfection led him to buy the first CD player sold in the US (the Sony CDP-101, which I actually found in a stack of old A/V components here in his house) and immediately started building a collection of CD's that numbers somewhere around 30,000 today. He did his best to get me hooked as well, and for my 13th birthday he gave me a Sony D-88 Pocket Discman, which was designed primarily for playing 3-inch CD-singles.[Pictured at right: my dad in 1985 with the A/V rig he had set up in his bedroom. Note the Pioneer LaserDisc player at the bottom with the Sony CDP-101 just above it.]
As he got older it became more difficult for my father to keep up with the latest technology -- he just never got totally comfortable with spending time online -- but he was a lifelong photographer who dived right into the digital revolution, picking up one of the first digital Canon digital SLRs and converting our family room into a digital photography workshop, complete with a large-format Epson printer that he used for giant prints he sold to corporate clients. He loved being able to edit and correct his photos using a computer rather than a darkroom, and he spent hours scanning and organizing the tens of thousands of slides and negatives he had from before he made the switch to digital.
My father instilled me in his love for technology, but the most important things I learned from him have nothing to do with gadgets. Even though he loved gadgets and electronics, he never made them his life; they were just tools to make life easier or more enjoyable and were never a substitute for the friends, family, and patients that he always put first. (He was a fierce advocate for his patients; in all his years as an obstetrician he delivered almost 8,000 infants and never lost a single mother.)
What always amazed me about him was how multifaceted he was. He was an intellectually curious physician living in a small town who had traveled the world, read at least a book a week up until he died, could continually kick my ass in Scrabble even though he didn't learn English until he was 23, and knew practically everything there was to know about classical music, Spanish wines, and French cinema. All I wanted to be when I grew up was as smart as my dad.
I knew that on some level I disappointed him when I decided not to follow in his footsteps and become a doctor. He never really put much pressure on me to go to medical school or anything, but he did express his hope that I'd love medicine as much as he did. It took me a few years, but when I did finally figure out that I wanted to write about technology for a living he was tremendously supportive, and I remember how he'd always ask for extra copies of Red Herring so that he could send them to his brothers in South America. And when he told me that one of his patients had asked him if he was related to me, I knew he was proud of what I was doing -- and to show it he even started asking me for advice about what gadgets to buy.
It's difficult for me to write this. I've never shared much of my personal life on the site, mainly because I know that all of you read Engadget for the gadgets, not to hear me (or anyone else) whine about the details of what they did that day. But I also know that there wouldn't be an Engadget without my father -- and not just because he inspired my passion for technology, or that it's always been his dry, irreverent sense of humor that I've tried to emulate in my writing. He was the person who I turned to when I was wrestling with the decision to quit Gizmodo and start all over again with a new site, and he gave me the push in the right direction I needed.
My father grew up in an impoverished developing country where the only ticket out of poverty was to get an advanced degree and get a "safe" job as a doctor or a lawyer or an engineer, so it was a big deal for me when he said that I needed to take a risk and toss everything aside to start Engadget. When I was home for Christmas in 2003 we stayed up late almost every night talking, and he gave me the confidence I needed to take the plunge and create the site when I was terrified about taking a chance on something that might fail. Even though he had worked all his life for the kind of financial security he never had growing up, he also believed that you should never spend a second of your life doing something you didn't care about, and he knew how much I loved blogging. He saw potential in me that I didn't see in myself.
That's why one of the happiest moments in my life was when he was able to come to an Engadget reader meetup in San Francisco. It meant a lot to me for him to see how successful Engadget had become, and it was so gratifying seeing him geek out with our readers, showing off his Canon EOS 5D to a fellow photographer and talking about and playing with all the gadgets on display like everyone else.
So maybe it's not all that surprising that this past Sunday the very last conversation I had with my father -- just three days before his untimely death -- was about gadgets. He wanted to tell me about the new HDMI-enabled A/V receiver he'd just installed and about how this new universal remote he'd bought wasn't working properly. He even wanted some insider info on whether he should buy a replacement or whether there was a new version that wasn't announced yet that he should wait for. I advised him to wait, and promised that when I was back home in California next month I'd help him get everything set up.
I expected I'd spend this Father's Day on the phone with him, maybe talking about the new two megapixel cameraphone he was using for casual photos (he'd just bought a 1GB microSD card for storing more pictures on the go) and my upcoming wedding that is now just six weeks away. Instead I'm spending it in his home, surrounded by his family and friends, wishing that I had one last chance to help him troubleshoot his Sonos, or watch Da Ali G Show with him, or sit at his computer while he showed me photos from his last trip, or talk about what it was like growing up in Peru (he had so many amazing stories which I'd love to hear him tell again). I'll never have a chance to do any of that again, but I'm beyond grateful for the 32 years I was able to spend with him.
My father was an intensely private person who'd probably be embarrassed that I'm even talking about him here, but he was a good, honest, highly principled man who did everything he could to give his family a life that was better than the one he'd had growing up in Peru -- and the world deserves to know it. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to live up to the example he set for me. Thanks for letting me share this with you.
My deepest sympathy to you and your family. I was one of your Dad's patients. He was a wonderful, caring doctor. I appreciate so much every thing he has done for me. He & Mary were very supportive when I lost my youngest daughter at age 20, in 1997, from a heart surgery that went terribly wrong:(
A tragic loss of a skilled and brilliant man. This article you have shared would make him so proud of you :) He spoke of you often. Best wishes on your wedding. He will be there, right beside your Mom.
Janet
What a nice letter about your dad, He will be missed in this world ,He was a great Doctor one of the best in Merced CA, You sound like a very good son ,May God Bless your family at this time and may you always have his memory in your hearts , Live life to the fullest till the Lord calls one home , as your dad did , Always Betsy from Le Grand
My thoughts and prayers are with you.
Very beautiful piece, Mr. Rojas. My thoughts are with you and your family.
Kudos to you on a very beautiful, moving, and classy tribute to your father. I'm truly sorry for your loss. In a way this article has made me anxious to become a father (someday soon), as it reminded me of just how strong and wonderful a bond can be between a father and son.
Hi Peter. My condolences. A very nice tribute. Particularly sad to lose him so close to your upcoming celebration. I lost my dad when I was 33 and I still miss his conversations (your dad's mustache looks a lot like my dad's from the same era).
You won't remember me but I met you and Ryan in Seattle at the Engadget party last year. We're all pulling for you.
Mr. Rojas,
Your loss is also my loss. Your father was also my Doctor and he delivered 2 of my children. After he changed his practice to only gyn I begged him to deliver my 3rd child but that was "not going to be fair to all of the other ladies that begged as well." He was a great man and I had the best of care under him. I will forever miss his beautiful pictures that he took from all of his travels. My husband said that he was a very sharp dresser and we got a kick to see him driving around in his latest car. Your father was very down to earth and I enjoyed being his patient for the last 17 yrs. May God bless and comfort you and your family. Sincerely, Mrs. Haggerty
Hey Dude - Thank you for sharing this :) KEEP ON GOING!
I knew your Dad Peter and he was very proud of you. He was the best Dr. in Merced. He always put his patient's care # 1. I am so sorry for your loss and your wonderful Mother Mary.
Debbie
Peter,
Your dad was my doctor for 24 years and during the difficult delivery of my now 20 year old son, he literally saved my baby from starving for oxygen by using all of his knowlege and talent. Your dad was one of my true life heroes and I will never forget him. Thank you for writing about a side of him not known to many patients. God bless you and your family. Lisa Van Elswyk
Hi Peter, I do not know what to say. I was born in Peru too, I was a patient of your father, he was an outstanding-way above the ordinary doctor, he was a great human being. My uncle Arturo was (is) one of your father's best friends, I met your parents for the first time when Arturo was visiting them in Merced. I am a total technology ignorant. I got into this website by accident, yet thank you for sharing with others about your relationship with your father. Afterall, relationships are the most important assests in our lives. You are so fortunate to have a father like him. Take care. Ursula.
Peter,
I just heard about your fathers passing this morning. I have been a patient of his for about 17 years. I saw him the day before he died. When my daughter informed me this morning, a cried. I loved your father, not only as my doctor, but as a friend. I could talk to him about anything. As a matter of fact, we had a nice converstation during my appointment on June 12th.
Over the years, I have heard a little about you and your family, but as you wrote, your father was a private person. I always loved looking at the photos in the office every time I visit. He was a well traveled man and a gifted photographer, as well as a damn good doctor. Thank-you for letting me see a different side of him that I never knew. Please tell your mother I am thinking about her and your family in this devastating time.
I will miss him deeply.
Teresa Bullis
Peter,
I was your father's patient for more than 20 years and considered him a friend as well as trusted physician. He helped me and my husband through years of infertility heartache and in the end we were rewarded with three wonderful children -- he delivered all three, the first two were twins. I have known him through some of my darkest days and some of the best days of my life. His loss is a heartbreak to me. I will never forget him. Your father and mother spoke of you often and your Dad was so proud of you. Your tribute to him was more than any parent could ever ask for.
Please tell your mother, Mary, I am thinking of her and your family.I was not aware of your father's passing until very recently so it came as a huge shock. Best wishes always to you and your new wife.
Diane Conway
Wow, what a heartfelt article. I worked with your father at the hospital for about 12 years. I was shocked and very sad to hear about his death. I also lost my father very unexpectantly (actually, the day I brought home my 2nd child from the hospital) and I've missed him very deeply for the last 5 years. But, like you, I have incredible memories of us that will never die. I need to find a way to send my condolences to Mary, I always enjoyed working with her too! I haven't worked at the hospital in 5+ years so I just heard the sad news yesterday. Again, I'm sorry this community lost such a wonderful, interesting and very funny gentleman! He was such a character, he will be missed!
Truly touching story - a great read, and I'm very sorry for you loss.
I know this is probably very late in the day, but I've just read the post.
Your dad sounds like a great man, and an inspiring supportive dad - possibly the greatest thing any guy can aspire too.
Thank you for telling us about him. I hope his memory continues to inspire and encourage you
Congradulations on being the son im sure your father always wanted, it sounds like he was very proud of you.
I came to your site through my pal skew... maybe the fact that I lost my father less than 2 years ago made me want to make a comment... i don't know but I just want to say that this sums up a great dad more than anything I've ever read before: .... "He saw potential in me that I didn't see in myself."
Sounds like a spectacular person.