My father understood those rules clearly. Dads worked hard and stayed employed, regardless of how menial or mundane job. Dads spent time with their kids. But most importantly, dads offered glimpses into what it meant to be a man and a father—in purest sense of both terms.

In what seems to me to be a smaller way than my dad, I walk precarious tightrope that is "Dad" vs. "Me," always trying to maintain a balance between two. And although my circumstances are very different, importance of task remains unchanged.

Like my father, I try to let my kids know how much I believe in sanctity of this special time in their lives. By offering them my love and support, I hope to give them gift my father gave me—the greatest gift a father can give, really—warm, gentle memories of their childhood. And no matter how difficult their lives may become later on, they’ll always be able to take comfort in those sweet memories, and no one can ever take that gift away.

So here's to my dad, to your dad, and to all dads—men who gave up or postponed their own dreams so that we might reach for ours. Men in whose footprints we tried to step as we struggled through deep snowdrifts of our childhood, marveling at how long a man's stride could be.

Based on my research, here’s my recommendation: I call it my "Don't Boil Over" diet. You can eat all you want, as long as it doesn’t contain enough calories to push your temperature above 212 degrees Fahrenheit. And be careful not to drink too much hot stuff while you’re eating, since you never know when you might be going too far. And one last caution: by all means, if you smell smoke, back off!

There you have it. Feel free to pass it on to your friends, especially those who’ve looked like they might be smoldering from time to time. Who knows? You just might be saving them embarrassment of bursting into flames at next church potluck.

© 2004. Gary E. Anderson. All rights reserved.