Any guy can be a father.

A man who embraces the privilege of having children is a dad.

I share with you my memories of me and my son and daughter with a sense of humility that comes with the package of parenthood. Putting my kids first is a wonderful willingness to do whatever I can to help them have a happy childhood.

I loved my kids before I met them when I listened to their heartbeats in their mommy’s belly. In his first minute in this world, my son squeezed my finger with his tiny hand and I knew right then that becoming a dad was a blessing from God. My daughter slept on my chest her first two nights home and we have been “heart to heart” ever since.

I changed their diapers and I was surprised that I could hold my breath until the very last wipe. I walked my crying baby son in my arms all night long and then I stumbled into work the next day. I drove over the speed limit to the drugstore late at night to buy medicine for my congested baby daughter.

I cried when I saw that first pink candle on her birthday cake. I sang silly songs to her every night before her bedtime, pretending I was Biscuit her favorite stuffed dog.

I held onto the handlebars of her pink and purple bicycle and ran alongside while she pedaled furiously before I let go. Then with a lump in my throat, I watched her pedal up the street on her fist solo bike ride.

I played catch with him every single time he asked. I threw a football over the house and heard him cheer when he caught it on the other side.

I took all day to put together her Barbie mansion house that was a gift from Santa. I kept wondering why he didn’t send an elf or two to help me.

I felt his pain while a doctor sewed nine stitches into his face after a dog bite. I put my arm around him after he struck out and I told him there’s always another game tomorrow.

I planned her fifth birthday party and arranged a surprise visit by Cinderella, who walked up our driveway in her glass slippers to greet my wide-eyed little girl.

I took him fishing on the first day of summer vacation, and that began an annual tradition. I sang a silly song with her to a paper gingerbread man every morning before school. I watched “Field of Dreams” with him, and afterward he said it was the best movie ever.

I raised my voice to stop them from fighting with each other, and then I took them to Annie’s for ice cream. I was the loudest voice in the gym when she dribbled the basketball the length of the court to score a layup. I gave her flowers after she performed wonderfully in a play. I shouted with joy when his base hit helped his team win a championship game.

I taught them to how say grace at the dinner table.

I’ve told them about respect and never to make fun of another kid if it makes him feel bad.

I cook them dinners. I pick up the dog poop when he doesn’t, but that’s OK. He’s my buddy, and together we are sports fanatics supreme.

When I tuck “Guppy” into bed, I tell her I love her 1,000 times more than she loves me. I walk down the stairs and I hear her shout, “I love you 10 times more than that!”

I still kiss him even though he’s a teenager and he doesn’t like it. I write her inspirational love letters that I leave by her cereal every morning.

I drive them to the bus stop, athletic games, play practices, horseback riding, school dances, friends’ houses and roller skating parties.

I taught him how to cut the grass. I taught her how to do her math homework by herself.

If you’re a dad, you’re a man with a strong will and a soft heart. You’re a defender, a protector, a warrior, a silly clown, a table game player, a cookie and cake baker. You’re a toy fixer, a quarterback, a dance partner, a bad singer, a homework helper and a shoulder always ready for their sobbing tears.

Research has proved that a dad in the home lowers this country’s crime rate. I’d be willing to bet that if each of the angry young boys who shot up their schools had had a good dad, the kid would have picked up a notebook instead of a gun and would have gone to class.

Behind a good man is a good woman. Behind a happy child is a good dad. Sad to say but the value of ‘dadhood’ has lost its importance in this screwed up country of ours. Place a good dad in every home in America and see how many problems in society would be solved. Guaranteed.

Dads are superheroes without costumes. Powered by an unlimited number of gallons of love in their gas tanks, they drive their kids down the road of life until they open the door and let them depart as young men and women. We don’t own our kids. We only rent them for a while before they are ready to face the world.

Tomorrow, I will raise my glass in honor of my son and my daughter. Because of them, I am better person today. Because of them, I can feel the power I have as their dad and promise my unconditional love from now and even after my spirit should find its final resting place.

Rich Strack can be reached at katehep11@gmail.com.