I remember some of the old timers testifying in my childhood country church, “I thank the Lord, that things are as well with me as they are!” If you had asked them to explain, they would have added: “There are a whole bunch of people who are in worse shape than me. I may not be rich, but I have enough. I am so thankful for what I do have. I could be dead. I should be dead. I can still do for myself. God has been good to me and mine.”
This subject has been incubating in my mind for a few years. I am quite qualified for this subject because I was reared in the midst of old men. My Dad was forty when I was born so by the time I could listen with good reason, I was saturated with the wit of “The Greatest Generation”. I am further qualified because now I am looked at, as that once revered title of, “Old Man”. I have been a “hoary head” since my forties.
Old men are not what they appear to be. They look weakened, wrinkled, frumpy, and a little dazed but that is not what they are at all. Inside is a spirit that can still run like lightning, pick up a rock and throw it beyond reason, and make some giggly girl tear off his chatty ring at recess in the Spring. He is old but still a boy deep inside.
Daddy seems to be the preferred call sign of a southern father. You don’t hear Alabama ‘youngins’ calling their father, dad or father. The general characteristics of our Daddy depended upon which generation he belonged.