When I was a kid we lived on the south shore of Long Island, NY. We had a boat in the water at least 7 months out of the year. My dad and I would go out real early in the morning fishing. We'd stop at a 24 hour deli and pick up coffee, sandwiches and a container of milk for me (I was too young to drink coffee at the time.) Next stop was the bait dock if we didn't have any left over from the day before. Then it was about a 25 minute ride across the Great South Bay to our fishing grounds. We would fish hard until around lunch time unless the fish were really biting then we'd go longer. When it was time to eat our sandwiches my dad would find a nice sandy place to beach the boat. We'd sit on the beach, eat, and my dad would tell me stories about when he was a kid and my Grandpa who I never really knew. Sometimes the stories were about fishing with my older brothers (before I was born) or sometimes he'd tell me about when he was in WWII. There was always something to talk about and I didn't mind that some of the stories were repeated a few times. After lunch we'd take a quick swim to cool off a little and then it was back to fishing for a couple more hours. We never, ever came home empty handed. If we didn't catch fish (which was extremely rare) we would bring home crabs or clams. Most times it was all three. We didn't have a lot of money back then but we ate like royalty. I can remember it like it was yesterday. Those were the best days of my life, so far.
Dad passed away 25 years ago but to this day, whenever I go fishing, I think of him and get a big smile on my face.
RIP "Pop"