Founder Story

FAHQ® is the brand that 13-year-old me told my dad I would build one day.

From the outside, many might assume FAHQ® is a short name that also happens to be the slang word meaning "Fu#k You," but it’s so much more than that. The brand's slogan, "Live Life On Your Terms. Be Unapologetically You." is meant to encourage doing whatever it is that makes you happy, and not giving a flying fuck about what others think. This ride we call life is short – very short. And it can be taken from us at any moment, without warning. Tomorrow isn't promised.

I hope my story inspires you, virtually slaps you in the face, and triggers you to go after what you want in life. To do things your way. To stop giving a fuck what other people think.

I’m the offspring of the coolest parents on the planet  —  A die-hard Red Sox fanatic from Boston and an artistic creative entrepreneur from California.

I grew up in Massachusetts. My mom was from the Boston area and she met my dad while traveling out in California. They met at a bus stop — wild to think about in this technology-driven dating era.

He was very artistic and a self-taught photographer from the sunshine state that decided photography was what he was going to pursue after his stint in the Marines. My mom was a Red Sox-loving Boston girl that worked in the publishing industry.

My dad fell in love with the east coast. I used to be obsessed with California when I was young and I would also ask them why they didn’t settle down out there. They got married and dropped anchor in Boston. My dad was working at Gillette doing photography and my mom was working for a publishing company.

Each time I go back home — usually for Red Sox games — I often walk past the place that was their go-to spot to grab lunch and snag the fish and chips special. It’s a little corner spot in the heart of Boston. I couldn’t tell you the name of it — it’s not a restaurant any longer, but I know exactly where it is and I get chills walking by it.

My dad found out that the University of Massachusetts was hiring a staff photographer. I think I remember my mom telling me that one of their friends mailed them the job listing. Imagine that. Times are so different now because of technology, and it really wasn’t all that long ago. No emails. No online job listings. He found out about the job because a friend mailed them the newspaper ad. Crazy.

Anyway, he got the job and they moved west, purchased a house, and not too long after that I came into the picture. My mom still lives in MA. She’s a New Englander at heart and wants no part of Florida, although she doesn’t mind visiting in the winter. She’s a lot like me in the sense that we both think we are much younger than we really are, often referring to people our own age as “old.”

I was my dad’s sidekick — we did everything together.

Sometimes I can’t remember things I did two days ago, but I have very vivid memories of the experiences and adventures with my dad when I was a little kid. From going to a little breakfast spot down the road from our house to our Saturday morning dump runs — I remember so much.

I did everything with him. If I was off from school he would take me to work with him. I loved that. I can remember going to the arcade in the student center at the University of Massachusetts with him and playing Operation Wolf and 1942 — those were two of his favorite games. I also remember college kids telling me on multiple occasions that I had the coolest dad in the world.

They were right.

From random college kids to his colleagues — him being “cool” was a common opinion. Just to give you an example of how many viewed my dad, this is from his obituary:

I read this excerpt multiple times a year — and I instantly smile and tear up at the same time. I love the mention of his motorcycle jacket and boots. I have fond memories of that motorcycle. He used to bring me to Kindergarten on it. I was the only kid with a motorcycle helmet in his cubby-hole.

I can close my eyes and feel the sensations from those motorcycle rides. From the smell of the exhaust to the wind hitting me from all directions — it was a feeling of freedom that got me hooked and made me fall in love with motorcycles and riding.

There was an amusement park very close to us when I was really young. Mountain Park. I’ll never forget that place. He would take me there all the time. I was addicted to speed and thrill rides — something that still holds true today.

He would let me ride the rollercoaster over and over. I couldn’t get enough. I had no fear.

I will forever be thankful for the time we spent together on our little adventures. The older I get, the more I realize that time is the most valuable asset we have. Sometimes I press pause and think back to those adventures and smile. We had a great time together when I was little.

My parents did a great job raising four kids. We never went without.

I was the oldest of four siblings; two brothers and a sister, each three years apart. I would say, and I think they would agree, we had a good childhood. We never went without, and we kind of laugh about it now as we all have an understanding of just how expensive things in life can be.

I grew up thinking we were upper-middle-class and money was never something I or my siblings ever worried about, let alone even thought about. We always had food, new clothes, new baseball cleats and we went to the beach or lake every summer.

Looking back now, I have no idea how my parents did it all. We definitely weren’t rich. Far from it. And while I’m sure there were times they stressed about money, we didn’t know about it. There were never calls from bill collectors and I never once remember my parents arguing about money.

Actually, I can’t remember ever once seeing or hearing them argue or fight. Did they? Not sure. But they never did it in front of their kids.

In my mind we had the perfect family. Did my siblings and I fight? Oh yea. Did we drive our parents crazy often? Yup, like pros. But it was normal sibling stuff. My parents did a great job raising us.

The older I get the more I appreciate the sacrifices they made, always putting us first.

I caught the entrepreneurial bug early from my dad, who was also my first boss.

While the University was my dad’s official full-time job, he also had his own photography business. He even went as far as to convert our garage into a full-fledged photography studio. A large part of his business was shooting weddings on the weekend.

I was about ten years old when I started helping him. In my eyes, it was more adventures with my dad. He used it as a learning experience — teaching me about hard work and also using it as a way to encourage me to find something I loved and build a business around it.

Some weekends we would shoot multiple weddings, crisscrossing all over New England. Those were great times. I can remember some Saturday mornings packing up the car at 5 am and hitting the road.

I was the co-pilot. These were days before navigation. We would have printed out directions and it was my job — so I felt — to guide us to each wedding venue location.

I also had the very important job of making sure our drinks didn’t spill — a large coffee for him and a Lemon-Lime Gatorade for me. I was also in charge of tolls, and I can remember always making sure I had the exact dollar and change combo ready each time we exited the Massachusetts Turnpike.

My official job title was “assistant,” and he made sure I worked. It definitely wasn’t easy. I would help carry equipment, set up lighting, and do whatever else he needed. I remember always eating very well at those weddings — and we would rate the weddings based on how happy we were with the food. If filet was on the menu it was automatically a great wedding.

I also remember something that happened like clockwork at almost every wedding — an appearance on the dance floor after the first dance. There would always be a girl in the bridal party that would drag me onto the dance floor after having a few too many drinks.

I may have played it off like I was shy back then — but I welcomed it every time. I definitely didn’t fight it. I can’t tell you how many times my dad said, “Kiddo, you don’t want to work for someone else — find something you love and figure out a way to build a business around that” during those wedding shoots.

That always stuck with me. This was also back in a time when entrepreneurship wasn’t something a parent would typically push a child towards. There weren’t shows like Shark Tank that encouraged it. Being an entrepreneur and starting a business was considered riskier back then — going to college and getting a good corporate job was the safer route that was encouraged.

Part of me also credits those days to me not taking the walk down the aisle myself — yet. We saw some wild behind-the-scenes family drama, fights, and scandals over the years. I remember often thinking to myself, “Why would anyone want to do this?”

My dad also opened a sports card shop — High Heat Sports Cards — and I worked there while in high school and college. Throughout those years he also constantly stressed entrepreneurship. I guess he just knew that for me, it would be the best path.

I’m thankful he engraved that way of thinking in my brain. Especially in a time where other parents weren’t. He was never one to go with the flow or worry about saying something that went against the norm.

I really wish I could thank him for this. At the time I didn’t realize how important that was in helping to pave my path in life.

Thanks, dad.

Baseball kept our family tight and still does today.

We were a baseball family. We are still a baseball family.

Everything we did seemed to revolve around baseball. My brothers and I all played baseball and dad was our coach — and would be our coach throughout the Little League ranks. He was very involved and even took the initiative to help the town build another field and improve the quality of the existing fields in town.

From installing bleacher seating to building a new field — he spearheaded the fundraising and gave a lot of his time to the local Little League scene. He wanted his kids to have a better experience but he also wanted all of the local kids to enjoy it as well. He was very selfless.

We actually got cable TV back in the day because of baseball. TBS played all of the Brave’s games and for some reason, even though we were a Red Sox family, we also liked the Atlanta Braves during that era because dad loved their pitching. The “Big Three” — Greg Maddux, John Smoltz and Tom Glavine – plus Steve Avery – was just the most dominant rotation in baseball back then. My dad just loved good baseball — something that definitely rubbed off on his kids.

I have so many memories that are baseball-related — from watching All-Star games and the Home Run Derby on ESPN and hearing my dad let out the “Back, back, back, back…gone!” home run calls in sync with Chris Berman to taking trips to watch the Pittsfield Mets play. They used to be a Short-Season A minor league team.

We rarely went to Red Sox games when we were kids — looking back the cost surely had something to do with that. We just liked good baseball. I can remember watching baseball on TV while sorting baseball cards. Everything revolved around the game.

Fast forward to today and baseball is still very relevant.

One of my brothers had a very successful stint working in professional baseball and my mom continues to be a die-hard Red Sox fan . She had, and continues to have, incredible access thanks to my brother. She comes down to Florida every spring to catch some Spring Training games, hits Fenway Park for countless games, and then watches the others on TV. Every single one.

When I say she watches every game of the 162 game regular season that’s not an exaggeration — oh, and postseason games also. She doesn’t miss a single game.

We always joke that she was at Fenway for every historic Red Sox moment, and it’s true. When Ted Williams hit a home run his last time up to bat — she was there. Carlton Fisk’s game-winning home run in the 12th inning of Game 6 of the 1975 World Series? Mom was there. Oh, and what about when David Ortiz hit the home run in Game 4 of the 2004 ALDS, not only avoiding the sweep but sparking one of the greatest comebacks in history that included winning the World Series? Of course, she was there.

I love baseball. It’s a great game — it’s “our” game.

My dad was a big kid and had an incredibly sarcastic sense of humor — traits he passed onto me.

My dad wasn’t like my friends’ dads. Sure, they were nice, but they were all business — always serious and never joking around. My friends always said, “You are so lucky to have a cool dad.”

He would play video games with us and play basketball with us — he was super competitive. I have memories of my mom yelling out the window, announcing that dinner was ready and my dad saying, “One more…one more” while playing an intense game of H-O-R-S-E on our basketball court.

We had our driveway extended and this new flat blacktop was turned into a basketball court. Sure, it also served as parking — but he did it more so for the basketball aspect than the parking.

Whether it was after dinner or on the weekends — if we were outside playing he was right there also. Our front yard also doubled as a baseball field and dad would mow baselines into the grass. We would spend hours at a time just playing catch or playing Wiffle ball.

Parents these days just throw an iPad in front of their kids. Sure, we played video games as kids — but it was often with my dad. It got very competitive sometimes.

He also had a very sarcastic sense of humor. You either got it or it flew way over your head. I’m 100 percent a spitting image of his personality when it comes to humor. You either get me — or you are left scratching your head.

I also have his youthful vibe and I tend to not take things too seriously.

Growing up in Massachusetts was a good experience — but it left me wanting more.

I didn’t exactly love living in a small town growing up. I hated having small classes and going to small schools. Our sports teams always sucked because we had a very limited talent pool to pick from. Just to give you a sense of how small I’m talking — I think my graduating class had twenty-three kids. Yeah, small.

When I was young I was obsessed with Miami and the Miami Hurricanes, specifically. I used to have a Miami Hurricanes Starter Jacket. Those pullovers from the late ’90s were very popular. I was envious of high school baseball players in Miami — they played full seasons consisting of five times the number of games we played due to weather restraints.

As a little kid, I said I wanted to go to the University of Miami to play baseball. I would eventually find my way to Miami, but it was after my college days — it’s kind of funny that I ended up here. The same place I was obsessed with as a little kid.

Looking back now I realize how growing up in that environment — and small-town — was an advantage. We got to grow up in a safe environment. While “home” doesn’t appeal to me currently, I do enjoy going back often. Miami is fantasy-land. Going back there is a good reality check.

I became a selfish and ungrateful asshole while trying to figure life out after college.

My college experience was good outside of the classroom. Coming from such a small high school and being exposed to a much more diverse and larger group of kids was good for me. The networking and social skills developed in college, along with the friendships made, were well worth it.

The classroom experience really didn’t have an impact on me. If anything it made me dislike traditional education. But, back then you had to go to college — if not you wouldn’t be what society deemed “successful.”

Today, kids are encouraged to start businesses at a young age, and college isn’t pushed as hard — at least not to kids that have desires to be an entrepreneur.

I remember I was taking a business management class and the professor was talking about how easy it was to start a business. He was saying this to a lecture hall filled with hundreds of students. I felt like I was the only person in the entire room that wasn’t buying the bullshit he was trying to feed everyone.

I asked him how many businesses he started. He said none, and then proceeded to explain how he loved teaching. I still wasn’t buying it. Then I said something I regret deeply: “Those who can, do; those who can’t, teach.”

I was asked to leave. At that point, I knew the classroom college experience wasn’t going to have any kind of impact on me. While I regret those words I spoke — it was who I spoke them to that I deeply regret.

The professor was my dad’s friend. Word got back to him and I heard about it. He said something along the lines of, “You don’t have to agree with everyone. But never disrespect someone, simply because you do not agree with what they say.”

I apologized the next day in his office. But I was mentally checked out. I was ready to enter the real world.

I worked for a company after college and while it was a great experience and I learned a lot, I knew that I needed to start my own business. Working for myself was the only way I knew I’d be happy in life.

It was during this time of trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted to do that I completely disconnected from my family. It wasn’t something that I did intentionally. I became so consumed with trying to be successful that I blocked out everything else.

I feel like I missed out on a lot of things — like my brothers’ graduating college, my sister having her first child. Stuff I would kill to be able to go back in time and be a part of. I didn’t keep in touch with my family. I’d call on holidays, but that was it. Looking back, I was a complete asshole. A selfish fucking asshole.

I remember there were times my dad would call me and I would send the call to voicemail. Or I’d say I was busy and that I would call back — but never did. He was calling just to say hi and to check up on me and I felt that I didn’t have time for that. I was “too busy” to keep in touch with my family.

This is something that haunts me daily. I would do anything to go back in time and change this part of my life. I would take every call. I’d call to check-in and just say hi.

I wish I wasn’t an ungrateful selfish asshole back then.

Seeing my dad in that condition really hit me hard and I didn’t know how to deal with the situation.

I remember feeling like I was in a dream when he told me he had cancer. What? How? Now my dad. Impossible.

It really hit me hard. My head was a mess — a mix of questions and rage. Why him? He was such a good dude. Why not some asshole piece of shit person? Why my dad?

I didn’t know how to deal with the situation. Looking back, I should have talked about it. With family. With friends. With mental health professionals.

But I didn’t, and that was a mistake. Rather than talk about it I kept it all inside and drank to numb what I was feeling and to forget about it. While the issue wasn’t going to just disappear, I could at least make it disappear from my mind.

Again, looking back this was the wrong approach. But it’s the one I took.

I didn’t want to think of my dad being sick. The solution? Party as much as possible and keep turning it up a notch in order to keep reality from sinking in. I was in Miami — there are no shortage of partying opportunities here.

Just hearing his voice on the phone killed me. He sounded weaker every conversation.

Towards the end, he was on Hospice care — living in a hospital bed at the house he and my mom bought right before I was born.

We were speaking daily. It hurt so fucking much, but I was taking his calls. I would just drink my face off at night to erase those conversations — it killed me to hear him like that. One of our last conversations was him telling me that he couldn’t hold on much longer — that it hurt too much.

The day after that conversation with him my mom called. She said things took a turn for the worse that night and I should come home ASAP. I remember heading to the Ft Lauderdale airport after hanging up — and I remember one of my brothers saying something like, “Just get there and I will find you a flight and book it.”

I got to the airport not knowing what airline I was flying on or what time the flight was. While there my dad called. He said, “Hey kiddo. Don’t come home. I don’t want you to see me like this.” Hearing that fucking killed me.

The flight home was a blur. Mentally, I was a mess.

"Hey, dickhead. I thought I told you not to come up and see me like this.”

That is the first thing he said to me when I walked into his room and he saw me. He never did lose his sense of humor. He stayed witty and sarcastic until the end.

I gave him a hug and I remember how fragile he felt. I lost it and left the room before he saw it. I muttered something like, “I’ve got to take a piss…be right back” in order to sound strong and tough when in reality my heart sank and I didn’t know how to react.

Seeing my dad in that condition really hit me hard. It’s an image that didn’t reflect what I remember as a kid. Someone with youthful energy that seemed to never run out. By this point, he was hooked up to a morphine drip and consuming an insane amount of pain pills daily.

He passed away not long after. My sister had recently given birth to her second daughter and I remember the Hospice nurse telling my mom that she felt seeing that little baby girl was giving him extra motivation to fight and hang on.

When he passed away I lost it and in my mind, I was done — I was ready to check out.

He was gone, but no longer in pain. I spiraled out of control, and my mind was a complete cluster-fuck. I was a complete mess.

What was I going to do? How was I going to deal with this? I was overwhelmed and words cannot describe what I felt.

He was my biggest supporter and the one person that always said, “I believe in you,” no matter what I wanted to do in life — my ideas were never too crazy to him. He understood me. Now he was gone.

In my mind, when I set out to do something, I go full speed ahead and don’t slow down to second guess my decision. This has its pros and cons, depending on the situation.

I was hell-bent on checking out — it was my turn to take the forever dirt nap. A self-imposed dirt nap. I didn’t even think twice. It was game over for me. My head felt so heavy — filled with rage, confusion, questions, regret, and fear. I couldn’t see straight and I sure as hell couldn’t think straight.

I’m not going to get into the details, because they aren’t important here. I was on a mission and within seconds of taking my life, everything around me started moving in slow motion. It’s something I cannot describe. But while everything was moving slowly my mind was clearer than it had been in a long time.

Something that rarely happens was happening — I was second-guessing my decision. I started thinking about my family.

I didn’t want anyone I loved and that loved me, to have to deal with what I would put them through. They didn’t deserve any of that. It would have been another selfish asshole move on my part to put them through that.

I was going back-and-forth in my head — what option was I going to take — and then something happened that changed the outcome.

His last words to me are what stopped me from ending it — they continue to replay in my head daily and they are what pushes me and motivates me.

The very last words my dad spoke to me were:

“You take care of your mom, brothers, and sister for me. I love you.”

It’s those words that played in my head right before I was about to end it — it’s those words that I heard so clearly when everything else was moving in slow motion. It’s those words that saved my life.

I really cannot explain in words what happened. I just know that something clicked and my desire to end it was gone. My head was no longer heavy. I could think clearly. It was a feeling that I will never forget.

I thought about my family. I thought about what my dad would be saying to me if he was there.

As I sit here and type this I’m trying to think of a way to explain what happened at that moment. The moment those words entered my head while everything else was moving so slow. How I was ready to end it with complete certainty — and then a second later I had an entirely different outlook on life.

I went home. I felt incredible, as weird as that might sound. I was thinking clearly — more than I had in a long time. It was at that moment I decided I was going to make sure I made my dad proud.

It’s something I may never be able to fully explain.

And for that reason, those words replay in my head daily. There hasn’t been a single day over the past thirteen years that they haven’t. There also hasn’t been a single day that I ever had the thought of ending it again — that has never once re-entered my head.

Losing my dad made me appreciate and prioritize family — they are and will always be priority number one.

I feel like I am closer to my family now more than I ever was.

I call my mom daily to check-in. Often multiple times a day. I try to keep in touch with my brothers and sister. We are all very busy and have our own lives, but I think we do a good job — even the occasional funny text or email. I make sure we all get together during Christmas for a week.

My sister is married with four kids and one of my brothers is married with two little ones. I try my best to be the fun uncle. I want those kids to have great memories of the time we spend together. The fun and goofy side they see is definitely something that I got from my dad.

While I will always have regrets — missed opportunities and acting like a selfish asshole — related to my dad, I think of the positives that came from that wake-up call. It made me a better person for sure.

While I wish I learned this a different way, you cannot change the past. But, you can learn and move forward and try to do things differently. And that is what I did and continue to do.

I don’t think I tell my family how much they mean to me and how much I love and appreciate them enough. That’s something I’m going to work on.

If you ever feel like it’s the end of the road for you, talk to someone — I promise it gets better.

I’m not a mental health expert.

I’m not qualified to give any kind of mental health or medical advice.

But, I can tell you from personal experience that things get better — no matter what you are dealing with or encounter in the future — they will get better.

Mental health is openly discussed now, and I think that is great. It hasn’t always been like this — even just eleven years ago.

I didn’t seek help back then. I was too ashamed. I was scared. I was worried about what people would think. I dealt with it myself and I was seconds away from lights out. If you need help, talk to someone — a friend or family member. If you know someone that needs help, encourage them to speak with someone. There is help available. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

FAHQ® was born when the marketing industry burnt me out – and creating brands for others’ was no longer rewarding.

I owned a digital marketing agency that eventually pivoted to a D2C brand development agency. Over time I just didn’t love it any longer. FAHQ was always on the back burner and one day I decided it was time. I exited everything and went all-in on it.

I saw first-hand that life is unpredictable and our time here is not guaranteed. I decided that moving forward, I would only do things that truly made me happy. Building FAHQ® over the years has been very enjoyable.

If you made it this far, thank you. I appreciate you reading and listening to my story.
I wake up every day thankful to be here doing something I love. I hope my story encourages people to go chase their dreams and do what makes them happy. Life is short. It moves fast. Do shit that you love. Be well.

Jonathan Long, Founder