Joe P. Viloria

Joe P. Viloria

My name is Sabio, and I have the honor and the deep sorrow of standing before you today to speak about my father, Joe P. Viloria—a man who was not only my dad, but also my mentor, my example, and in many ways, my first hero.

My dad passed away on June 20, 2025, and though we mourn his absence.

Today we also celebrate the beautiful life he lived.

He was born on January 20, 1935, in the height of the Great Depression. Raised in Phoenix, Arizona. His family consists of 5 boys, 2 girls, 21 grandchildren, 18 great-grandchildren, and 1 great-great-grandchild.

At the age of just 17, he enlisted in the U.S. Army on September 23, 1952, and bravely served during the Korean War. That sense of courage, discipline, and quiet dedication stayed with him his entire life.

Our dad was also a man who loved to travel. His expertise as a chef took him to the finest resorts in the country including the Arizona Biltmore, Lake Tahoe in Nevada, and Cripple Creek in Colorado. He was honored to serve the President of the United States, John F. Kennedy, that was a highlight for our entire family.

He wasn’t just a man of the kitchen—he was an artist, a craftsman, and a leader. Cooking wasn’t simply a job for my dad, it was his calling.

He brought Laughter and excellence to everything he prepared, and more than that, he brought people together. His steadfast personality gave him the nickname.

Joe Mufflow

My earliest and most cherished memories are of working alongside him at the Arizona Biltmore. I begged him to get me my first job there, when I was just 11 years old, and my brothers followed as well. I wanted to be with him, in that kitchen, with all my heart. Over the years, he didn’t just teach us how to work, he taught us how to show up in life. He taught us how to be diligent, how to follow through, and how to give our best to any task, no matter how small.

He had a unique way of leading—with patience, kindness, and strength. I watched him mentor others with gentleness, always drawing the best out of his cooks, always aiming to create not just meals, but an atmosphere of excellence and respect.

He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. His presence, his integrity, and his love for people did all the work.

He was also a man of quiet strength. My dad had a way of moving through life with unshakable peace.

He never showed worry, not once did he let stress take over or bring chaos into our lives. Day in and day out, he remained steady. He had this calm, collected spirit that gave everyone around him a sense of peace.

He didn’t need to talk about being strong—he simply was. That consistency, that simple steadiness, was one of his greatest gifts.

You always knew what to expect from him. He was grounded, and in that grounding, we all found safety.

He never showed that he was worried about anything. Day in and day out, he moved through life with a calm, peaceful presence. He was simple—in thought and in spirit.

He found joy in the little things, and he was consistent in everything he did—from his daily routines to the way he spoke to people.

Every conversation with him was steady, strong, and loving. He had a way of grounding you with his words. One of his favorite sayings,

“You Gotta Stop and Smell the Roses.”

He believed life was meant to be enjoyed, not rushed. He’d always remind us not to work too hard chasing material things, but instead to take time to enjoy what truly matters.

Outside the kitchen, my dad was a man who loved his family deeply.

He adored his grandchildren—especially when they were little. He’d teach them Spanish and create special little jingles or sayings just for them.

Those small things, those funny moments, are now cherished treasures we’ll hold on to forever.

He was witty, full of humor, and always quick with a comeback or a joke. He brought joy wherever he went.

And more than that, he wanted the best for all of us—for his children, his grandchildren, and even his great-grandchildren.

He planted seeds of excellence in all of us, and his influence will live on, in the way we love, serve, and lead in our own lives.

Though today we mourn, we do not mourn without hope. We carry forward his legacy every time we show kindness, every time we give our best, every time we laugh and remember one of his silly sayings.

I love you, Dad. Thank you for the guidance and lessons. Thank you for your strength... Thank you for everything.

(Pause)

And to everyone here, and all of you who knew my dad, thank you.

Thank you for being part of his journey—whether you worked beside him, shared a meal with him, laughed at one of his witty jokes, or simply walked through life with him in any way. Your presence in his life brought him joy, and I know he treasured the relationships he built over the years. On behalf of our entire family, thank you for the love, the prayers, and the support.

May you carry a piece of his kindness, his calm strength, and his love for life with you always.

— Proverbs 20:7

“The righteous man walks in his integrity; his children are blessed after him.”