Artists have personified Time since, well, the beginning of time. Scholars believe Father Time, the now-familiar figure with the sandals, scythe and hourglass, evolved from the Greek god Chronos, through hoofed, winged 16th century variations. Despite his advancing years, he always seems to find work, especially at this time of the year, pimping everything from appliances to discount linens to golf carts. And editorial cartoons are always good for seasonal employment. Some even stand the test of time.
I suppose to some Father Time is just another artistic anachronism, a white guy with facial hair, like Uncle Sam or Santa, badly in need of a prime-time makeover. But I like him the way he is. In this line of work, stock characters become family, so a certain loyalty is expected. I just can't see him with Tevas, a WeedEater and a Black-Berry.