Davy, Davy. (Sentimental journey)

Most people call me Dave.
Yet, the other day I talked with two guys we knew in California. They called me Davy, which is normal for them and their children. The same day I got a note from a guy I grew up with in Spring Arbor. He addressed me as Davy, and I caught on.
My mother called me Davy, and those who knew her, whether in Spring Arbor or California, addressed me as she did.
No one will hear Mother call me Davy again for a while, so most people call me Dave. And that’s okay. Only a privileged few find it natural to call me Davy.

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