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photo by Alan Chavez
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photo by Alan Chavez
On a blustery 10-degree day in December 2020, families lined Kenmore Boulevard, waiting for up to two hours, some without warm clothing to bundle in.
“That’s how people are very much in need of stuff,” says Kenny Lambert, the now-32-year-old founder of Just A Dad From Akron, who organized its first holiday gift giveaway.
With a dyed-red mohawk and just a few of his 100-plus tattoos visible, Lambert passed out hats, gloves and blankets to some people in line, talking to as many as possible, all while carrying his then-3-year-old daughter, Amelia.
She’s the reason he’s Just A Dad From Akron — both literally and figuratively — as he started the apparel company that does community outreach events for Christmas, Halloween, Father’s Day, back to school and more after he finished treatment for drug and alcohol addiction, with his daughter as his driving force.
“I feel like God gave me a daughter,” Lambert says. “That’s how this all started — the inspiration behind it, how I got sober, how I have a life today.”
Lambert refers to his time in addiction as his “past life,” and the change has been significant. His work, focused on Kenmore, has received great community response, including 1,500 people attending the premiere of the documentary about Just A Dad, “The Movement,” at the Akron Civic Theatre in October.
Now accustomed to running free community events instead of self-described “running the streets,” Lambert and other volunteers passed out presents wrapped in festive red, white and green paper to 200 diverse families at the first gift giveaway. Community members donated gifts, including one who dropped off $500 worth of toys and others who wheeled more than 10 tricycles and bicycles up to a barebones Kenmore storefront decorated with gold tinsel garland that later opened as Just A Dad From Akron in 2021. Lambert gave a stack of three presents to a woman wrapped in a blanket, and when the last people reached the storefront — an 8-year-old and 10-year-old whose parents dropped them off — he and the team filled their arms with the remaining bags of toys.
He’s happy to take away some of the stress of holiday gift-giving from families who can’t afford it. He grew up in Kenmore, a neighborhood where the median household income was about $13,000 lower than the state median, accoding to 2010 census data and the city of Akron. Parents struggling to afford presents is something Lambert saw firsthand as a kid.
“We never really had much. It was, for Christmas, a heads-up, like, Hey, we’re not going to have Christmas presents unless God provides a way,” Lambert says. “Those mothers or dads or whoever’s out there … to give them some relief … and give them a Christmas — that alone, it’s priceless.”
Lambert’s part in Kenmore hasn’t always been so uplifting.
Kenmore is where he hit rock bottom — homeless and struggling with addiction in spring 2018. “Sleeping in the car, eating fudge rounds for like a month straight because that’s all I could afford,” he says, “I didn’t see how twisted I was.”
Growing up in Kenmore, he was the only one of his friends who had a dad, he recalls, and one of the only kids in the neighborhood who lived with both of his parents — things he took for granted at the time. At first, he was unaware of the drugs that were prevalent in Kenmore, as his dad, who worked three or four jobs at a time, was strict, and his mom cautioned Lambert to stay away from marijuana. And drugs weren’t common at Springfield Junior High School, where he went until eighth grade. When he switched to Kenmore High School in ninth grade, the pressure was immediate.
photo by Alan Chavez
“Kids in Kenmore smoked cigarettes. I know a lot of kids that drank, smoked weed, all that stuff, at like 9 years old,” Lambert says. “No one could believe that I never smoked weed or drank. That’s how I got drunk the first time. It was like, Mission: Get Kenny drunk on Friday.”
Later that school year, he smoked marijuana for the first time, and when he was 16, he started running the streets with friends, skateboarding around and hanging out without parental supervision. He continued drinking and smoking marijuana, and then he began doing harder drugs.
His first run-in with the law was for driving under the influence in 2009, but he was in addiction for over 10 years — a period full of alcohol, drugs, criminal charges, DUIs, jail time and homelessness. He went to jail about 20 times between 2009 and 2018 and was convicted of aggravated possession of drugs, possession of heroin and driving under suspension.
During his stints in jail, which ranged from a weekend to seven months, he kept vowing to change his life, but he wasn’t fully committing, often relapsing during the sickness that accompanies getting sober. He went to court-ordered rehab in 2016 but was sober on and off between then and Amelia’s birth in October 2017.
“I was so selfish,” Lambert says. “Everyone that called and told me, Congratulations. Can we come meet your daughter? My response was, Not unless you have drugs.”
By spring 2018, people in his life cut him off, with his parents no longer allowing him to stay at their house and his ex not letting him be around then-10-month-old Amelia anymore — his rock bottom.
“I became so miserable. … My family, friends and loved ones — I had burned every bridge. And I wasn’t able to see my daughter,” he says. “I remember praying like, God, if I have a purpose, put me in jail.”
He began going to Alcoholics Anonymous, Narcotics Anonymous and sober support meetings and sitting outside, never going in, trying to fool loved ones into thinking he was trying to get sober. It worked, and he regained privileges to see Amelia, so he got on the road — but he didn’t make it to her.
High behind the wheel, he fell asleep while at a red light. He woke up to a concerned passerby thinking he was dead. “I’m like, No, I’m not dead,” Lambert says, adding that he began driving again since the light turned green, just to get pulled over by the police about 200 feet later. “I remember telling them, Thank you.”
That time, with his prayers answered, he was truly ready to change. He went to get treatment at Parkman Recovery Center, now First Step Recovery, in Warren, away from anyone he knew who might tempt him to use again.
“I was fully willing to learn everything, learn how to live a new life,” he says. “The hardest part is the work, putting in the work to make you a better person. … You can be content, like, I think I’m a pretty good person. … Then you just slowly decline back to who you were, who you don’t want to be.”
After completing treatment in summer 2018, he began mentoring kids at First Glance Student Center in Kenmore and started repairing strained relationships. He now co-parents Amelia, who lives with him part-time in his Kenmore apartment, and has rebuilt his relationship with his parents, who Lambert says raised him in a loving Christian home.
“When he was doing rehab … he did turn back to God,” says his dad, Kirk. “He prays about a lot of things, and he just waits for God’s answer, instead of going out on his own, like he always did before, doing, a lot of times, the wrong thing.”
Lambert says he used to avoid his dad, and whenever Kirk would ask him for help, he’d agree and then not follow through. After treatment, Lambert started being more present in his dad’s life and focused on treating him with the kind of respect his dad raised him to show. Kirk says it took about a year of Lambert staying sober to regain trust in his son.
“The whole first year … people just didn’t want to set expectations,” Lambert says. “Once I started stepping up and being a good dad, holding down a job, … he said he could feel that it was more serious. This was gonna be the time I actually stayed sober.”
Lambert has been sober for over four and a half years. He talks to Kirk every day, and Kirk volunteers at Just A Dad events and appreciates how involved Lambert is in Amelia’s life. “He spends as much time as he can with her,” Kirk says. “He’s turned around like 100 percent.”
Above all, his drive to be a good father keeps him on track.
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photo by Alan Chavez
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“In active addiction, I knew I was not able to be the dad I wanted to be. I was not able to be the dad that I was raised by,” Lambert says. “If I don’t put God first then I can’t stay sober. If I can’t stay sober, then I can’t be a dad.”
Police greeted Lambert March 6, 2021, the day Just A Dad’s store opened. They were there to block off Kenmore Boulevard for its grand opening, but still, seeing police was jarring.
“My past life, you walk into that situation, you’re going to jail,” Lambert says. “My life had changed.”
Akron Mayor Dan Horrigan helped him cut a red ribbon, and customers quickly bought apparel — all of it.
“I printed merch to like 6 in the morning, and then woke up at 9,” Lambert says. “We ended up selling out of everything. We had 600 items.”
The store-emptying success wasn’t the end of the excitement that day. One community member presented Lambert a check worth six months of the store’s rent. “What the company is about is inspiring people to change, to make a difference,” Lambert says, “and coming together as a community, so we can grow together.”
That mission has remained, exemplified on the apparel. Rotating pieces, many of which Lambert designs, include T-shirts, sweatshirts and hoodies with sayings like “Recovery is priceless,” “Prayers are free,” “Stop the violence,” “Inspire,” “Be the change Akron needs” and more, available in-person and online, with a percentage of each item benefiting future Just A Dad community events.
Positivity flourishes inside the store, with colorful, playful murals of aliens, cartoons and inspirational quotes painted by local artists and a wall with painted handprints signifying those who helped make the store what it is. And depending on when you stop by, Amelia might suggest pieces for you to buy and help you cash out. Her favorite thing to do at the store is to be the “teller,” she says. She swipes cards and bags apparel. She attends every Just A Dad event she can, looking forward to them as they approach.
“She remembers very, very well, like exactly how many days away it is,” Lambert says. “It’s cool to see my daughter soak it up like a sponge, everything going on, the lovingness that she’s learning.”
Amelia even helps Lambert prepare. Before the first gift giveaway, the pair gathered about seven shopping carts full of toys and checked out.
“She looks at the cashier and she goes, You think all these toys are for me, huh? ... We’re giving these all to kids,” Lambert says. “She actually understood.”
Her favorite events are the holiday gift giveaways because she loves Christmas, Kenmore First Fridays because of the interactions, and of course, the trunk or treats because she gets candy, she says.
But Just A Dad business is only one of many things the father-daughter pair do together, often hitting up Akron RubberDucks baseball games, carnivals, fireworks shows and trampoline parks — the latter is Amelia’s favorite, she says with a smile, but it’s Lambert’s least favorite — “I’m in fear she’s gonna break her leg,” he says. He adds that they both love going on hikes and going out to eat and cooking because they share steak as a favorite food.
“We always have fun,” Lambert says.
photo by Alan Chavez
Amelia fits right in at Just A Dad. Lambert says she gets a lot of attention at events, but she reciprocates. “She can also give love out,” he says. “She’s like a mini-me — like the good version — and it’s beautiful.”
A group of kids, around 16 to 18 years old, showed up to Just A Dad one day in February 2022 — armed with a gun.
“Kids came in and tried to rob me,” Lambert says, adding that he was shocked but decided to start talking to them, explaining the story of Just A Dad.
His method worked.
“They took their hands out of their waistband, because they’re holding the gun in there, took their masks off,” Lambert says. And one of the kids surprised him by asking if he recognized him. “I used to mentor one of the kids when I first got sober.”
The tension dissipated. The kids, who had never been in the store before, told Lambert that it was amazing, especially because one was going to be a dad. He told the kid he knew that he’ll be there for him if he needs anything.
Despite the frightening event, Lambert maintains an open-door policy during Just A Dad’s business hours.
“Anyone’s welcome. People come here that are homeless, and they sleep on the chair while we’re open because they have nowhere to sleep,” he says. “That’s cool, ’cause I’ve been there.”
Kids often come after school to hang out. They greet customers, eat donated snacks, watch YouTube videos and talk with him about their goals and role models. “I wish there was something like this around when I was a kid,” Lambert says.
“Little kids immediately are warmed up to him, … but the teenage kids — that’s where I really see the huge impact,” says Kristi Watson, the director of operations for Just A Dad and Lambert’s girlfriend. “They come to him for support and inspiration.”
“I’m asking them, Who’s your role model? Who do you look up to?,” Lambert recalls. “They all said the same thing. They all said their grandpas because their dads are dead, in jail or run the streets.”
Students also share their struggles and seek advice. For example, when they got suspended from school, Lambert suggested apologizing to teachers to make the situation better.
“Being able to see him provide a safe space, have those open conversations, is really cool,” Watson says.
One 17-year-old with a difficult home life has visited the store nearly every day for a year. He’s a great artist, and Lambert encouraged him to design a Just A Dad hoodie, which sold very well.
“He’s very, very talented. His parents, they take his art and throw it in the trash,” Lambert says. “He comes to the store. He’s loved.”
Lambert’s support extends to adults as well. Just A Dad hosts sober support mental health meetings on Fridays, where he facilitates conversation in a packed room of 17- to 65-year-olds, welcoming openness about struggles like depression, eating disorders and substance use.
Recovery and mental health are lifelong journeys.
“The stuff that got me sober — I have to do that every day, like pray, be around positive people, talk about anything that’s bothering me,” Lambert says, adding that he doesn’t feel tempted to break his sobriety anymore, instead focusing on his mental health, since he struggles with depression. He stays busy when the store isn’t open, with side projects such as home renovation work to help hold him accountable while also making sure to rest. He also sponsors four people through Alcoholics Anonymous and meets with his sponsor, and he gets support from Watson, who attends Just A Dad meetings with him and is nearly three years sober from alcohol.
It’s especially meaningful when people Lambert knows get inspired, like his brother, Kyle Lambert. The two were in jail together, attended meetings together and worked on being sober together. Kyle didn’t stay sober when Lambert did, but now, using Just A Dad meetings to help him, he has been sober for over eight months, and he’s involved in his son’s life.
Another is Ben Rich, a Just A Dad employee and a friend of Lambert for over 10 years. The two used to party together, but now, the two are sober and Amelia is friends with Rilynn, Rich’s 6-year-old daughter. Rich says being around Lambert and being involved with Just A Dad helps him hold himself accountable, and he’s over eight months sober.
“Being super active in the recovery community especially, but the community in general, going to meetings, giving back to people, helping people, service work, going to church,” Rich says, “[Lambert’s] laid a blueprint that I try to follow.”
It’s a sunny October day in Kenmore, and Batman jumps up and down and dances around. A ninja mirrors Lambert’s thumbs-up and gives him a fist bump. A woman accompanying a cheerleader thanks Lambert for everything he does while he passes out candy and toys like bubbles. Amelia, dressed in a red panda jumpsuit, pours out her candy and searches for Fun Dip. A line filled with Minecraft characters, superheroes and witches wraps around the parking lot.
At Just A Dad’s third annual trunk or treat Oct. 30, volunteers in over 40 cars passed out candy to more than 1,000 trick-or-treaters. It was an increase from last year’s 500 kids, and it isn’t the only sign of growth Just A Dad has seen recently.
The company is expecting 400 families at this year’s holiday gift giveaway Dec. 18 at the store — which would double last year’s turnout. And it is reaching more people through its 12,000 Facebook followers and “The Movement” documentary, directed by filmmaker and now Just A Dad employee Nate Ankrom, which is streaming on YouTube. Lambert turned down an opportunity to stream it on Netflix, as he thought that would limit its accessibility.
“The whole purpose of the documentary is to reach as many people as possible and use that as a helping tool to inspire change,” Lambert says. “People can leave comments. You can watch it at home. They can share it at treatment facilities.”
That’s part of the plan. In March, Summit County’s Turning Point Program, which Lambert did, is set to offer a showing of the documentary to its participants who are on probation — over 300 people. It has already inspired some people to get further involved in Just A Dad’s movement, such as Debbie Constant and Vicki Monsour, who volunteered at trunk or treat after attending the premiere.
“It was awesome seeing so many kids and their stories in recovery, how Kenny helped them, how Kenny helped himself,” Constant says.
The Just A Dad movement and Lambert’s story of addiction and recovery in Kenmore really hit home for Monsour.
“I used in this area too,” says Monsour, 61, who has been sober for eight years. “So for him to make this movement here, … it’s really special.”
Success is crucial — lives are at stake.
“I’ve lost a lot of friends through addiction,” Lambert says. He and Amelia used to spend time with one father and his son, and the dad died of an overdose. With drug use, Lambert knows it could be anyone. “If I never got sober, I’d definitely be dead. There’s no doubt in my mind,” he says.
Relapsing could mean not only risking death but also leaving Amelia without a father — so he keeps doing the work.
Although she is just 5 years old, Amelia knows about her dad’s history of addiction. She’s been going to meetings with him since she was 11 months old and saw the documentary. While he has been open with her about the challenges, he wants to show her that you can overcome anything and that anyone can make an impact.
“I hope that she takes away the positive stuff, that she can be a light, that she is a light in the community,” he says, “and that she can do anything that she puts her mind to, and her dad will support her 100 percent.”
Monsour says Lambert’s approach to recovery is different than others she has heard. To her, meetings for organizations like Alcoholics Anonymous could be triggering. Hearing people share their stories and focus on their struggles made her feel like using.
“In the documentary, they told their story, but they didn’t dwell on that,” she says. “They didn’t dwell on where they were in the past. They look toward the future and what they’re doing now to change their lives.”
Envisioning the future is exactly what Lambert hopes people are doing.
“I was actually at one point wanting to leave Kenmore, and I heard Kenny say that if all the good people leave Kenmore, there’s nobody left to help bring the community back,” says Watson. “So I decided to buy a house and plant my roots.”
She’s now been in Kenmore for 15 years and is hoping to keep impacting the community through Just A Dad.
Lambert aims to not only inspire people to change, but also to prevent kids from going down the same path he did. He hopes to create entrepreneurial opportunities for kids in Kenmore and to teach kids the importance of avoiding drugs, something he is already doing by showing kids the documentary when they come to the store.
“We’re in a tough neighborhood, and so when good things like this are happening ... nothing bad is happening,” Watson says. “The bad stays away because there’s such a light right here.”
Through Just A Dad, Lambert hopes to continue bringing that light.
“When I was in addiction and ran the streets as a kid, I took so much away from the community,” Lambert says. “That’s why I feel like I was placed here, is to change the environment and change the community.”
And so, looking toward the future, he stays.
