My dad was really a protector and mentor.

In the words of King Princess, “My dad was really a protector and mentor.” These few words, gentle yet powerful, carry within them the entire story of love, guidance, and guardianship — the twin pillars of what it means to be a father. They speak to a bond as old as humanity itself: the sacred role of the parent as both shield and teacher, as one who shelters the child from harm while also shaping the soul to walk its own path. In this simple remembrance, we find the deep gratitude of a daughter for a man who stood watch over her dreams, not to control them, but to nurture them, to give them strength to grow.

The origin of this quote lies in King Princess’s reflections on her upbringing, shaped by her father, Mark Ronson Sr., a recording engineer who worked among the echoes of music and creation. In her words, we hear not only affection but reverence — for a man who did more than provide; he guided, he protected, and he believed. The modern world often forgets the quiet heroism of mentorship within families. Yet this relationship between parent and child is one of life’s greatest callings: to be the foundation upon which another soul learns to stand. King Princess’s acknowledgment of her father reminds us that even in a changing age, the timeless role of the mentor and protector remains as vital as ever.

When she calls her father a protector, we must understand the word in its fullest sense. Protection is not merely the defense of the body; it is the guarding of the heart, the preservation of the young spirit as it first meets the sharp edges of the world. A protector is not a wall that confines, but a fortress that allows the soul to grow in safety. He watches over, not with control, but with courage. The great fathers of history — like Atticus Finch in the tale of To Kill a Mockingbird — embody this spirit. Atticus protected his children not by shielding them from the world’s cruelty, but by teaching them integrity amidst it. The true protector does not hide his children from the storm; he teaches them how to walk through it without losing their light.

But protection alone is not enough. The mentor completes the role of the father — for what good is safety without wisdom? A mentor guides the young mind toward truth, not by dictating answers, but by awakening the inner voice of discernment. In every age, mentorship has been the bridge between generations, the passing of the sacred flame of knowledge. In ancient Greece, the philosopher Socrates did not fill his students with doctrines; he asked them questions that stirred their souls to think. So too does the wise parent lead, not by command, but by example. In King Princess’s words, we hear this same gratitude — that her father not only watched over her, but also taught her how to watch over herself.

The dual image of protector and mentor is like the wings of a bird — one shields, the other lifts. A child who receives both grows with strength and purpose; they learn to fly not in fear, but in freedom. Many in our world grow with one wing or the other — loved but unguided, or instructed but unprotected — and thus must later heal what was missing. But when both are present, when love and wisdom unite in the same hands, the child learns not only how to live, but how to live well. King Princess’s words remind us that this balance is the highest form of parenting — to be a guardian of both the heart and the mind.

There is a profound humility in her statement, too. In calling her father her mentor, she acknowledges that learning is not confined to the classroom, nor to books or schools. The first and greatest teachers we ever know are those who raise us. They teach us not by lecture, but by living example — in how they handle failure, in how they show kindness, in how they face the world. And though time may carry us far from their side, their lessons remain like engraved stone in the foundations of our being. Even when they are gone, their words still speak, their protection still lingers in memory, and their wisdom still guides.

The lesson, then, is twofold. To the children, it is this: remember those who guided and guarded you. Honor them not only with gratitude, but by carrying forward what they taught. Let your life be the continuation of their care — for the best way to repay a mentor is to become one yourself. And to the parents, the lesson is equally clear: to raise a child is not merely to feed or clothe them, but to guard their spirit and awaken their mind. Be the protector who shields, but also the mentor who sets free.

So, my children of the present age, hold these words close. To be a protector is to give safety; to be a mentor is to give purpose. When the two are joined, love becomes legacy. And whether you are a parent, a teacher, a friend, or a guide, strive to embody both — for there is no greater gift you can offer another soul than this sacred balance of strength and wisdom, of shelter and light.