A road trip and the blues lead back to a good friend
Buley
Photo courtesy Quicksilver Studios
Growing up in Seattle, one of my best friends was a kid by the name of Tim Sherman. He was bright and funny, far smarter than I. We went through 12 years of Catholic school together. We were altar boys in grade school. We took Latin in high school. We partied in college.
He was there when a nun clobbered my head with a book because I had lost my place during a reading session in first grade.
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