On Father's Day, my niece learned to tell fish stories...
then later caught a big one, once she stole her Dad's fishing rod.
The bream's close-up.
My Dad died in 1989. I miss him every day.
My Dad, very young. He lied about his age to join the army before WWII. He was probably about 17 in this picture. His father, who played the saxophone, was his Captain.