over to me and shakes his head. Before we had even gotten to the Marina, Dad asked if I needed him to start the engine, and of course I declined, wanting to feel like a “big kid.” With one simple tug from my father’s strong arm, the old Briggs & Stratton engine purred to life, as if brand new. Switching into the forward gear, I roared off the dock in search of circling birds, a clear indicator that fish were nearby. My great- grandfather, Stephen Foster Briggs, was born on December 4th 1885, in