Not knowing anything about the English agricultural pioneer after whom the group was named, how many idiot teens thought this guy was Jethro Tull?
I did. An upperclassman on my high school hockey team clued me in, to spare me from further “goating” — a term used to describe embarrassing displays of cultural ignorance.
My teammate's name was Jeff Comstock. I later introduced him to another friend of mine, a bank president's daughter named Ann Wick.
Commie was from a blue collar background. Ann's dad had once run for governor of Vermont.
They wound up getting married. At the wedding, I thought it was odd — and not necessarily a good sign — that I hardly knew anyone else in attendance.