John Drake once spent his days managing corporate operations and flying across countries as an American executive whose life revolved around business. Today, at 78, he has spent two decades raising abandoned and neglected children in Toledo City — children who now call him “Tito John.” What was meant to be one final trip to the Philippines became a mission that helped turn forgotten children into graduates, engineers, teachers and nurses.
A Fateful Visit
When he first came to Cebu in the early 1990s, it was for overseeing power plant operations in places such as Toledo City, Cebu. “I was always focused on the work,” Drake said. For years, the Philippines was simply another stop in a career that had already taken him across the world. Then, in 2002, something changed. Before returning to the United States, he joined then-Toledo City Mayor in visiting schools where computer donations had been distributed. “She said, ‘You’re the orphan guy, aren’t you?’” Drake recalled. She then asked if he would consider renovating and running a struggling children’s facility in Toledo City.
He initially dismissed the idea. “Different culture, language, laws, customs — everything. Plus I had a family and projects around the world. Why would I do this?” he said. Still, he agreed to visit the old Lingap Center. The facility was in poor condition, but it was the children inside that stayed with him. “There were 26 kids there that day,” Drake said. The children barely had enough food. Many had no birth certificates, no schooling and no certainty about what tomorrow would look like.
Yet despite their circumstances, Drake remembered how ordinary they seemed. “These kids were just like my own kids,” he said. “The big difference was my kids would be successful because I would make sure. These kids had no chance at all.” What struck him most was not their poverty. It was their humanity. “But they also had names. Usually when people talk about street kids, it’s just a sad face in a brochure. But these were real kids. There was Roger, Marmy, John Ryan, Marites.” Drake returned but the children’s faces followed him home. “It was Mother Teresa who said, ‘God speaks in the silence of the heart,’” he said. Eventually, Drake decided he had to try. Not because he believed he was qualified. In fact, he believed the opposite. “I’m not good with kids. But I thought, if one day God calls me and asks why I didn’t answer, at least I could say I tried.”
Building More Than Shelter
In 2004, Drake began raising funds in the US. A year later, construction for a new facility began and he officially established the Lingap Children’s Foundation. In March 2006, 39 children moved into the new Lingap Center. Drake retained the name “Lingap Center,” noting later that “lingap” — a Filipino word meaning “to care for” — is commonly used by the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) for many of its child and welfare facilities across the Philippines. Despite the shared title, the home he built in Brgy. Ilihan, Toledo City operates independently while remaining accredited by the DSWD. Today, the center holds a Level 3 accreditation — the highest possible rating given by the agency — recognizing its standards in child care, administration and social welfare services.
“This is our 20th anniversary,” Drake said. The center, which he referred to as a residential care facility, has served more than 800 children. But he soon realized that shelter alone was not enough. “When you take neglected or abandoned kids and let them grow up until they’re 17, then throw them back out into the street, they’re going to end up in the same situation,” he said. So Drake pushed for education. He coordinated with local school officials so children without legal documents could still attend classes. And so, the center began sending children to college. Nearly 50 have since graduated from college or vocational programs. And even after moving on to live independently, the facility still holds a wall of framed smiles from children who graduated.
Over the years, the Lingap Center also created one of its most cherished traditions — the Honor Society Awards Night. Now in its 13th year, the event celebrates academic achievers within the center through festivities. This year’s celebration is especially meaningful as it coincides with Lingap Center’s 20th founding anniversary.
Through Storms, Succession
Despite the milestones, the journey has never been easy. The center survived the Covid-19 pandemic by locking down the facility for months to protect the children. During Typhoon Odette, the home endured weeks without electricity. “That was a nightmare,” Drake’s son, Jeff, recalled. Jeff, who works full time in the US and has a family of his own, now slowly prepares to take over the mission his father built. “As soon as I drop dead, he’ll take over,” Drake joked. But for Jeff, the responsibility was never unexpected. “I always knew,” he said. “I was there when he decided to do this in the first place. Our whole family knew what we were getting into.” Jeff currently helps oversee fundraising efforts in the US while learning the operational side of the center.
For Drake, succession matters because he wants the center to continue long after he is gone. The organization remains funded through donations, with a board of directors in the US and in the Philippines. “Every single centavo goes directly to the benefit of the kids,” Drake said. Looking around the center today, complete with tutoring, life skills training, counseling, music programs, spiritual development, vocational training and more, Drake admits he no longer dreams of expanding. Instead, his goal for the place to be the best it can possibly be.
A Musical Night
That evening on May 9, 2026, the Lingap Center kept every detail of the 20th anniversary celebration a surprise from Drake himself. Behind the curtains were children rehearsing lines, alumni fixing costumes, teachers and social workers rushing around in gowns and makeup, all preparing for a full production that transformed the center into a stage of gratitude and joy. Among those who attended was alumna Morin Jade Lacay, whom Drake fondly calls the “crowd pleaser.” Now working at a radio station under the name “Kuya J,” Morin recalled how Tito John always supported his dreams, even allowing him to study in a private school. Morin shared that he initially arrived at the newly constructed Lingap Center 20 years ago without understanding what it was, after his grandmother brought him there. “I didn’t understand it at first, but when she was gone, I realized she put me there because she wanted me to be safe,” he said. “Tito John has always been supportive of our dreams and it’s up to you how you embrace it,” he said.
But beyond the performances and decorations, what lingered most was the sight of the children themselves — confident, expressive and radiant in ways that once seemed impossible for kids who had been abandoned or forgotten. For one night, they became theater stars, singing and dancing their way through scenes inspired by “Annie,” “Beauty and the Beast” and “Sister Act.” Watching them onstage felt like witnessing the very thing Drake had spent 20 years building: children becoming who they were always capable of being once someone believed in them. “I love what I do,” Drake said. “These kids deserve better than what they got. They are great kids. That’s all there is to it.”
