Nana and Papa certainly have the picture somewhere: I stand by my uncle’s pond, rod and reel in hand, with a small fish on the line. I must have been four, maybe fine. The rod and reel seemed impossibly heavy, and I thought the photographer — my uncle? mother? — would never snap the picture.

So I think I can understand the Girl’s frustration with me as I maneuvered for picture after picture of her first fish.