People use this word way too much these days in my opinion. The signs, the hashtags, whatever. I get it, we all want to honor people. However, few understand the meaning of this word, in my opinion.

Fishing and life have allowed me to meet several people who truly fill this role. Now let’s get something straight — my father is the person I consider to be my hero above every other person. This is the man who taught me so much, from how to fish, how to be a salesman, how to be a professional in my career choice. Until recently, in fact, my career was based on him. No other living person impacted me as much as my father, and I am eternally grateful for that. Daddy is my best friend and for my entire life, until my own son was born, he was the person I wanted to fish with most, and I still do. I was fortunate as well. For 25 years we worked together every day. We fought like cats and dogs a lot of days, but in the end, we worked well together, I think. Since I have switched careers, he’s also been one of my biggest cheerleaders, which is a relief. Honestly, I was afraid leaving our industry would disappoint him.

Being of my generation and time from the south I refer to my father as Daddy. My generation or older pretty much all did, especially from where I am from. My daddy refers to his father as daddy, too, and of course my mother does. We might say father in polite conversation or in a general reference, but if we tell stories or are speaking about them in particular you will hear men like me say my daddy. There’s no more endearing term to me than that. I love it when my kids call me daddy. It means so much more than dad. It means honestly that I have done something right and they are happy or appreciative. It means they love me. That’s how I see it.

However, my daddy is the man who took me to catch my first fish. I don’t remember it, but there’s a picture of a less than 2-year-old me with a bream I caught on Lake Sinclair up around Crooked Creek way back in the middle 1970s. He was the one who took me fishing all the time. Almost every time he went, I went. And much is said today about my son. If I am not working on an article or column, he is with me on the water. My daddy took me to my favorite place on this earth, St. Mark’s Florida, when I was 6 for the first time. We’ve been going a long time now. My son loves it as well. In fact, at dinner down there is where I told my daddy I was getting married. We had a long talk about life and expectations after that. He was the best man in my wedding.

Most of my columns you read involve my friends and family in some way, shape or form. We hunt, we fish, we cook. Most of us do that with our fathers and in fact my father is the one who really taught me how to cook. We have fried more fish together than most Capt. D’s restaurants, we’ve cooked more pork loins than I can count, and we’ve cooked so many steaks it would take a heard of black angus to replace them. He has always been a generous host, and at this point in my life I know he loves my wife as his own daughter and my children love their Baba. In fact, when my oldest was born he looked at me and without any hesitation said if he would have known how good being a grandfather was he would have had Emma first!

I appreciate you reading this because after all the changes and all the uproar in my life as of late… I just wanted to say thank you to the man who pushed me and took me fishing. After all he was the one who made me write this column to begin with.

Tight lines and following seas y’all. Go hug your daddy if you can.

—Outdoors columnist James Pressley can be reached at jameskpressley@gmail.com .