Here’s a picture I just found of my dad while I was going through a box of his stuff.
Dude was the Mac-Daddy. Check out the straw fedora. And yes, he went fishing wearing a long sleeve oxford shirt with a polyester undershirt beneath it.
That’s his glasses case attached to his big ole leather belt. Despite this precaution, I know he went through 10 pairs of glasses a year to replace the ones he lost. We got a card from Milam’s Optical when he passed away.
If you look closely, you can see the crease in his jeans from where he had them dry cleaned. He even took his boxer shorts to the cleaners. No starch. Folded.
He’s holding four huge bass with two little ones stuffed in their mouths, yet there’s not a speck of dirt or a fish scale anywhere on him.
I guarantee that at the time of this picture, he had spent eight hours in a boat under a blazing Georgia sun drinking scotch out of a thermos and eating Vienna sausages straight out of the jelly in the can. He still looks ready to put down the fish, jump in his Cadillac convertible, drive to a customer and close a million dollar deal over a big ass t-bone steak.
That was my Dad.
He didn’t quite make it until Father’s Day two years ago, so I figured I could jump the gun a little bit myself.
R.I.P. Bud Chamberlain 2/16/28-6/17/05