Brian was 13 and it was his Canadian first fishing trip with the men. There was some reluctance by my dad to bring him because he thought a 13 year old would be too much maintenance on what should be a relaxing trip. To convince my dad, I told him I would accept full responsibility for my son, would fish with him all the time and address any issues that arose.
Brian was amazing. He could sit in the boat the entire day and heave man lures for the monster pike lurking at the periphery of the weed beds. Rain or shine, scorching or freezing. He fished without complaint. He caught a few fish each one sending adrenaline pumping through his body.
On this morning it was the three of us, my dad, Brian, and me, three generations of fishermen in the small boat enjoying the beauty that is the…
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