Two boys, their father, and a boat.
I’ve been thinking about the old man again. Not a day goes by when I don’t miss him. I shall never see his like again. I’ve been thinking about the times he, my brother and I were out on the old boat. Some of my happiest memories are of us in the boat. He’d often be in a happy mood, and he’d start telling us his old stories again in his rough voice and his inimitable style. As we got older, the stories would change a little. we’d say: “Whoa! you never mentioned that before.” Him: You’re older now. Us: Does Mom know about