First fish, biggest fish, fun fish. All of them are special, but even more so when they are experienced with special people.

As fishing buddies go, none are more special than dads, the fellows who thankfully introduced most of us anglers to the oohs and aahs of the sport we love.

Today we salute our fathers and the values they instilled and the lessons they taught their sons and daughters.

I am grateful Bob Wollitz is a fisherman who despite his many years of long hours of overtime at Packard Electric still made time to take his son fishing.

Now 94, Dad’s “fishing” time is mostly invested in angling TV shows, though he does keep a rod or two ready for a cast off the dock at his place in Punta Gorda, Fla.

Dad was there for many of my fishing firsts.

I recall watching bluegills dart and dance around a flat-top boulder in a strip mine lake where Dad gained access. He provided the can of worms, a fishing pole and patience in coaching my young self to wait for the bobber to dunk under even when it looked like a sunfish had slurped in the bait.

My first bluegill was a result of Dad’s guidance, as were the first crappies I reeled clear to the tip of my fishing rod on hot nights lit by hissing Coleman lanterns.

I quickly learned the value of hanging the lantern off the side of the boat so the light could attract flying insects and small baitfish. They, in turn, drew in the crappies that were easy pickings for Dad and his son.

I also learned from Dad the fine art of plucking nightcrawlers from dewy grass after nightfall. Dad had a keen sense for when and where to pick crawlers. The fairway of Mill Creek South Course’s “Canfield Hole” was always good for several dozen fat wigglers after the sun set.

Dad was the guide for my first walleyes and northern pike.

For 10 years, the Wollitz family vacationed in northern Michigan’s Indian River, the girls enjoying shopping and swimming with Mom while Dad and I pulled walleyes from Burt Lake and toothy pike from the reedy river channel.

Our family vacations in Indian River morphed into a week every September before my classe s resumed at Youngstown State University. During our week-long retreat in 1975, a rainy and blustery day interrupted our walleye plans, so Dad suggested we drive over to Petoskey to check out the run of chinook salmon from Lake Michigan’s Little Traverse Bay.

The big salmon were too much to handle on our walleye spinning rods, but Dad and I gamely tried (and failed) to beach 20- to 30-pound kings. I finally managed to subdue a 36-inch salmon from which we filleted enough meat a few days later to feed 12 family members.

The fish weighed an estimated 30 pounds and to this day stands as the heftiest fish I’ve every landed.

First fishing trip. First bluegill. First crappies. First walleyes and first northern pike. Biggest fish ever. Memories that last a lifetime. What more can a fishing buddy expect?

Happy Fathers Day, Dad!

Jack Wollitz’s book, “The Common Angler,” is a collection of stories that explain why anglers are passionate about fishing. Send a note to jackbbaass@gmail.com.