My small high school class was a cool bunch of characters – still is – and included a sophomore transfer named Jerry Doyle. This earned me some serious cred watching TV with Ebola and a friend one late night. There was something about that Garibaldi guy who I just couldn’t shake feeling like I knew him, so I stuck around for the credits.
I had to produce the yearbook for the two skeptical teens to prove I did.
The funny thing is, I had been telling Doyle stories for years, never knowing he had done amazing stuff once he’d left us all behind, as he’d assured everyone – especially Sister Tarcilia, the perpetually sour-faced chemistry teacher – he didn’t have to worry about passing her class because he was going to be a bartender.
Luckily for me, Al Gore had invented the innerwebs, and I got to catch up with Jerry over email as he’d moved to radio.
He was…
