My first fishing memory – the one that spawned or at least unearthed this obsession – was on the Chesapeake Bay. It was the summer of 1976, and my dad and two of his friends decided to charter a boat for bluefish and bring along the three 6 year-olds. At some point during the day, everyone else stopped to eat, but I couldn’t stop fishing. Yes, that jug-eared, emaciated kid on the right is me.