When people ask where I’m from, I usually say Lodi. But the full story is a little more layered than that. I was born in Fresno, California, but I was raised in Lodi—two places that, while different in a lot of ways, both shaped the man I’ve become. Fresno was my starting point, but Lodi is where my foundation was built. And no matter where life takes me, I carry both towns with me in how I work, how I raise my son, and how I treat people.
Growing up in a small town isn’t always easy, but it teaches you some of the most important lessons in life—about community, resilience, and what really matters.
A Sense of Belonging
Lodi might be small on the map, but it’s big when it comes to heart. You can’t go too far without seeing someone you know—someone you went to school with, someone who coached you, someone who was at the same Friday night football games. There’s a certain comfort in that kind of community. It keeps you grounded.
My dad, Calvin, was a teacher and basketball coach in Lodi, and everyone knew him. Whether it was at Mokelumne River School, Millswood Middle, or Lodi High, his name carried weight. Not because he sought attention, but because he showed up for people—for decades. Watching him invest in kids, day in and day out, showed me the impact one person can make when they give their best to their community.
I learned early on that showing up matters. Not just for the big moments—but every day. That’s a lesson that has stuck with me in every job I’ve ever had and every team I’ve ever coached.
Working Hard and Staying Humble
Growing up in Lodi wasn’t glamorous, but it was honest. You work hard, you take pride in what you do, and you help your neighbor when they need it. My mom, Cynthia, was a nurse at Lodi Outpatient and St. Joseph’s Hospital. She worked long shifts, stayed calm under pressure, and always had time for people. She didn’t brag or complain—she just got the job done.
That mindset—quiet dedication—is something I carry into every part of my life. Whether I’m managing a restaurant, leading a staff meeting, or coaching a group of teenagers, I try to bring that same steady, humble energy. You don’t have to be flashy to make an impact. Sometimes the most meaningful work happens behind the scenes.
Big Dreams in Small Places
A lot of people think you have to leave a small town to dream big. And while I’ve definitely had chapters of my life that took me outside of Lodi and Fresno—from Sacramento to Disneyland, from substitute teaching to running restaurants—I always brought those roots with me.
What growing up in places like Lodi and Fresno taught me is that it doesn’t matter where you’re from—it matters what you do with what you’ve got. Talent is important, sure. But character, consistency, and community will take you farther than skill alone ever could.
I’ve worked with people from all walks of life, in all kinds of settings. But the people I admire most—the ones who made me want to be better—usually had something in common: small town values. They didn’t need a spotlight to do the right thing. They just did it, again and again.
Family First
Family has always been central to my life. That’s one thing both Fresno and Lodi instilled in me from the beginning. Whether it was weekend barbecues, church on Sundays, or youth sports events, everything came back to being together.
I come from a long line of people who served. My grandfathers both served in World War II—one in the Army Air Corps, the other in the Navy. My great-uncle, Samuel Gantner, was killed in action during the attack on Pearl Harbor and was honored as a hero. These aren’t just facts from a family tree—they’re sources of pride and reminders of sacrifice.
Carrying the Gantner name as a middle name—something only my son and I share now—is one of those little things that feels like a big deal. It’s a reminder that we’re part of something bigger than ourselves. A reminder to live with purpose.
Giving Back
One of the best things about growing up in a small town is learning how important it is to give back. Whether it’s coaching youth basketball, volunteering at church, or mentoring young people, I’ve always felt a responsibility to pass on what was given to me.
I’ve been lucky to coach kids in the same schools and parks where I once played. I’ve had the chance to work with teens not just as an instructor, but as a guide—helping them navigate the same streets, the same challenges I once faced. That kind of full-circle experience is something you can’t buy. It only happens when you stick around long enough to make a difference.
Lodi and Fresno may not be the biggest cities, but they gave me something more valuable than any skyline or spotlight. They gave me a foundation—a deep respect for hard work, a commitment to community, and a love for family that guides everything I do.
I might live and work outside of Lodi now, but the lessons I learned there are still with me. Every time I help a young athlete believe in themselves, every time I treat a guest at the restaurant with patience and care, every time I take a deep breath and lead with heart instead of ego—I’m honoring those small town roots.
And to me, that’s the biggest win of all.