In a world where many boys grow to be men following and emulating a popular athlete, movie star, or whatever…I grew up idolizing a man who was always within arms reach.

My eyes first opened up to just how unique and incredible Dad was on a Sunday morning when I was just six years old. In downtown Excelsior Springs there is a restaurant called the Mill Inn that has been a family favorite for decades now – my Uncle Paul even managed it for a while. That’s where Dad was first elevated from “just Dad” to “Super Dad”, my own superhero. I can even recall the table where we were sitting…way across the room was a tiny, shriveled old man who must have been in his eighties at the time. I remember watching him struggling to get out of his chair – his frail little body fighting to make it to his feet. With the help of a cane, he began the arduous task of crossing the room to our table, smiling and looking at me the entire time. When he reached our table, he placed his hand on my shoulder and told me “You have no idea how lucky you are to have this man as your father.” Turning to Dad, he flashed a gigantic smile and said “Hello, Danny!”

While the two of them chatted enthusiastically I began wondering what Dad had done to make this man cross the room – in obvious pain – just to say “hello.” I always knew that Dad was the best to Mom and me, but to other people as well? Cool. Dad must have helped a lot of other people, I thought to myself…kinda like a superhero.

I honestly believe that Dad was a superhero. Behind his Dapper Dan secret identity, complete with bowtie and his ever-present bad puns and jokes, was a superman that worked tirelessly to help others – in his family, in his neighborhood, and in this community, which he loved so very much. Everywhere we went – and I mean everywhere – people would light up in his presence. It seemed that everyone we encountered knew and loved my father, regardless of their age, status, color, or creed. He was equal parts gentlemen, family man, comedian, and friend. What’s not to love? Dad’s influence was obvious…and as I grew up, I wanted to be just like him.

In grade school I won the Good Citizenship award a couple of years after he won Citizen of the Year. Check. In high school I wanted to be elected class president just like him. Check. I wanted to be that guy that no matter what, people felt they could turn to if they were having a problem and needed sound advice. Check. I wanted to be the guy that could tell fascinating stories that kept people riveted to my every word. Check. And I wanted to be in a long lasting, loving marriage. Che…okay, sooooo I didn’t do so well in that department.

As I progressed through the years, I came to know Dad on a number of other levels. I took a sinister pride in getting him to show his emotions, which spilled over very easily. Catching him tearing up at a card I’d written to him meant the world to me, for I knew that I was touching his heart. At Christmas, 2001 I was banned from ever giving him another gift that would make him cry after having created a shadow box of patriotic items he’d owned over the years. As I was taking the haul my children made from everyone out to the trunk of my car, Dad followed me. While he was thanking me for the gift that had brought him to his knees in tears, I told him “Aww, Dad…I had to give you something special for Christmas. You’re my hero.” He hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear “And today you are mine.” This was my favorite moment ever with him.

While I was growing up, Dad introduced me to old movies and we’d watch them together every Sunday afternoon. This grew to be one of my favorite routines with Dad. Sadly, Mom couldn’t stand Jimmy Stewart so it wasn’t until I moved out of the house that I became acquainted with the Frank Capra classic “It’s a Wonderful Life”. In it, Stewart plays a man named George Bailey who has always reminded me of my own father – a powerful catalyst and an extremely necessary cornerstone in an overall beautiful community. During a rough patch in his life, George wishes that he’d never been born…a request his guardian angel, Clarence, takes him up on. As George is shown a world in which he never existed, he comes to realize just how important his life has truly been.

“Strange, isn’t it?” Clarence tells him. “Each man’s life touches so many other lives. And when he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?”

I want you to look around in this room. There is not a single person in here whose life was not influenced in some way by my father. He gave some of you life, others of you hope, many of you help, and all of you love… maybe not directly, but definitely through the numerous people whose hearts he touched over his seventy-three years. Think of all the times that someone from our family has held the door for you — that’s due to Dad. All the times that one of us has told a long-winded story just to elicit a laugh? That’s Dad. Any time that one of us rolled up our sleeves and pitched in to help you in a moment of need? Dad again. He truly was an amazing man…and this little boy’s hero.

Almost everything I am wearing right now belonged to my father. This is the tie and jacket he wore to his 50th anniversary party last year. I know that many of you that worked with him throughout his years at Chuck Anderson’s are wearing his ties. Dad would have loved to have seen that. These are the cufflinks that I saw him wear time and time again on special occasions. Mom gave me Dad’s wedding ring, one half of the most magical set of rings ever created. I’m even wearing a pair of Dad’s shoes…and while they may physically fit on my feet, no one can ever or will ever fill these shoes.

I’ll miss you, Dad. You always have been, and always will be, my hero.