"I like men to behave like men."
- Francois Sagan

This is for a certain kind of man of a certain generation. Men like my Daddy: born in the 1920s, World War II veterans and just naturally different from the modern male.

Daddy's generation believed that helmets were for soldiers, not children on bikes. Toothbrushes were made for people, not dogs or cats. And you wouldn't find them anywhere near a delivery room or support group. The only time they talked about feelings was when the paramedic asked if they had any.

These men cleaned their ears out with a car key. Fixed dropped mufflers with a coat hanger. Trusted Jack Daniels when they developed a chest cold or a cheating wife. They were typically smokers, poker players and tellers of ethnically insensitive jokes. They were capable of great tenderness and empathy, but those things were expressed strictly in private.

They bore their pain away, rarely mentioning the war or other unpleasantness. As a result they suffered, quietly and sometimes intensely. They were flawed - but in a transparent way that made them not seem so bad. My father made some dreadful parenting decisions, but I still felt cherished. In his last years he worked to make things right with my older siblings so that they'd know his love as well. Of course he wasn't about to tell them that directly, but they understood.

When I was growing up, everyone assumed that Daddy was my grandfather because he was so much older. My friends had Baby Boomer parents, and I envied them for it. They got time-outs while I got spankings. Their parents seemed like they were trying to please them and be their friends, where Daddy was exerting His Authority in no uncertain terms. Their dads wore jeans and necklaces. Mine donned dress socks when he mowed the lawn.

Today's fellows can learn much from that generation, but they'd better get moving. According to a 2007 estimate from the Veterans Administration, the fine old men are dying at a rate of 1,000 per day. I don't necessarily believe that they are The Greatest Generation, just that they have the most to teach us at this point in our culture.

One modern malady is what I call Estrogen Overload. Society has become so feminized its no wonder that guys carry babies in slings on their chests and let their kids play soccer. The geezers knew it was un-American to promote the sport of a country you've conquered.

If you are offended by that last statement, that's OK, too. Folks of that era were not unduly worried about offending someone. But with Estrogen Overload we are sensitized to the point of becoming near mutes when we try to say something plain. Uh-oh, was I not supposed to say "mutes"?

Anyhow, it's ironic that EO causes the very effect it is designed to mitigate: poor communication and connections among people. Look at the societal problems brought on by this lack of real connection and shared values. Those of the Y chromosome can be a big part of the solution. And it starts at home.

So I implore all men to start acting more like the men of my father's generation. Study their ways and make them yours. Then stand back and watch your marriage improve and your kids behave. Flush that designer cologne down the toilet and splash on some Old Spice or Skin Bracer. Be what you are hard-wired to be: A MAN.

This Father's Day I salute those certain men of that certain generation. They are fading fast, but their lessons endure.

Lauretta Hannon of Powder Springs is a commentator for National Public Radio and author of the best-seller "The Cracker Queen: A Memoir of a Jagged, Joyful Life." Southern Living has named Lauretta "the funniest woman in Georgia," and you can learn more about her at www.thecrackerqueen.com.