Didn’t Do It, Wasn’t Me

During my 40+ years on the radio, I was blessed with some really good morning show partners.

Jenny came along at a time we were looking to add a third person to the show. Being just out of college, she brought a fresh perspective to her two middle-aged partners.

Though I didn’t realize it at the time, Jenny would bring me a lifelong friend. And while we go literally years without seeing each other, we are close.

Close enough that my wife and I were invited to go on the honeymoon with her and her new hubby so they could afford the Greek islands cruise they had chosen. And close enough that she felt comfortable conceiving her first child while I was on that boat.

(Her version: maybe that happened, maybe not. But her ‘maybe’ is enough of an admission there was carnal activity while I was in close proximity.)

We had a rare opportunity to spend some extended time together recently, and since our years on radio are what we most have in common, the stories started flying.

Here’s one of her favorites.

Allen gets off his stool in the studio to leave the room. Jenny believes that prior to Allen’s departure, something heinous occurred on his side of the desk, and quite incredulously ask our other partner, Liz, “Don’t you smell that?!?”

Liz’s response was something along the lines of, ‘Oh, god, yes. It happened all the time.’

Sure, I’m outta the room. Blame me.

Not that I’m incapable. Guys that share my last name think it’s probably genetic. Nothing to be proud of but Tibbetts boys got skills.

And wind.

Some days, I’ve got so much air in my body, I think they oughta tie ropes to me and float me down 34th Street in the New York City Thanksgiving Day parade.

But I plead innocent to fouling the air. Didn’t do it, wasn’t me.

And that charcoal filter seat cushion Jenny gave me that Christmas proves nothing.