Photo courtesy of Martha Hughes "(My grandpa) is just like my dad except he's not gone," says Kenny Filoso about his grandfather John Ostrowski. This picture is from a boating trip they took last year.

A biological link does not necessarily a dad make. Two Ventura County residents wrote this Father's Day about the men who were or are like fathers to them.

In the case of one Ventura woman, she had a second dad. A young Oxnard boy wrote about his grandpa, who stepped in when his own dad decided not to be a part of his life.

The definition of "Dad"

When Kenny Filoso's parents divorced, his dad left, according to Kenny's grandma, Martha Hughes of Oxnard.

Hughes' husband, John Ostrowski, stepped in to fill the role of father. Ostrowski is not Kenny's biological grandfather, but when it comes to DNA, it holds little sway with Kenny.

"My grandpa means everything to me, even though he is not my dad," said Kenny, 11. "I love him more than anything I have ever owned, even more than my new bike."

Kenny and Ostrowski, 49, fish and bike together. Ostrowski umpires at Kenny's Little League games and makes Kenny laugh when he flips on the radio in the morning. "His favorite song to sing in the morning is Sweet Home Alabama,'" Kenny said.

Asked if Grandpa is a good singer, Kenny said: "Um ... no."

Kenny is sad that his dad has not chosen to be in his life, his grandma said, but Kenny believes he's got a wealth of love from Grandpa.

"He is just like my dad except he's not gone," Kenny said.

Uncle Hal

Many people have no fathers around, so retired Ventura attorney Lisa Lorea, 52, knows how lucky she was to have two. She had her own dad, and "Uncle" Hal Torey.

"He wasn't really an uncle, not according to the rules of blood relationship," Lorea said. "And no one could ask for a better parent than my late father."

Lorea grew up in Hollywood during the 1950s and '60s.

"I come from a family of Z-List actors," Lorea said. "My parents toiled together with Hal and his wife, Ruth, in the little theater years, long before I was born, and eventually became best friends."

As a toddler, Lorea's thumb-and-blanket name for Aunt Ruth and Uncle Hal was "Uncarootenhow."

Uncle Hal, who had no children, was far from perfect, Lorea said, but to her, he was always a constant in her life, especially after her parents divorced when Lorea was 4.

"He never talked down to me, was never too grown up to happily join in whatever I wanted to do," Lorea said. "He was probably the only person whose love I never doubted and vice versa."

Born in Georgia, Uncle Hal had a deep baritone voice and Errol Flynn-type looks, but didn't progress much further in his acting career than a few film and TV roles and a rash of sci-fi horror flicks that Lorea wasn't allowed to see. Lorea said he viewed his career with philosophical good humor, saying that actors take what they can get "even if it's the lead zombie in the comically forgettable epic Invisible Invaders.'"

Lorea and her friend sneaked in to see Uncle Hal in a zombie flick one day, and "it scared the bejeebers out of us," she said.

But she thought Uncle Hal was cool, even as a zombie.

"For the next few months, I shambled around the house with my arms outstretched, croaking: Brains! Brains!'" she said.

During his visits, Uncle Hal always greeted Lorea by pressing his nose to hers and declaring: "We're stuck!"

Uncle Hal once crouched together in the backyard with Lorea as a spider spun its web, beginning to end, quietly commenting on the process. He explained the theory of relativity to her for a science project, and more than once, folded his 6-foot, 2-inch frame onto a tiny chair in her playhouse, which was no more than 5 feet high.

"He pretended to eat, with all due respect, something I had concocted from mud, weeds and few artfully placed pebbles," Lorea said.

Years of smoking finally caught up with Uncle Hal when he was 65, and his health declined rapidly. He asked that no one come to see him, because he didn't want to be remembered as frail and sick. So, Lorea sent him a letter full of all of the "in" jokes they had shared. His widow-to-be read it to him.

"He asked it to be repeated several times, and, according to Ruth, tears rolled down his cheeks," Lorea said. "He then asked her to put it under his pillow, where it remained until he died shortly thereafter."

Every year on Father's Day, Lorea sends wishes heavenward for Uncle Hal, hoping heaven has "spiders building webs, audiences cheering your Shakespearean performances ... many children of all ages with whom to share your gifts ..."

"When it's my time," Lorea added in a letter she wrote for Uncle Hal, "I hope with all my heart I join you there."