I doubted you. I doubted you and I'm sorry. You were enthusiastic about this play I had written, unabashedly supportive, and determined that you were going to play this one specific character that you had fallen in love with. The only problem was that this one specific character was a 17 year old boy, and you are a bald bearded thirty-something. But you shaved down to a baby's face, stepped into the character, and rocked it. In fact, you've rocked every role that I've ever had the privilege of watching you inhabit.
When The Ash and I got married, you gave us a card, inside of which you had written a loving tribute to love. It rolled and rambled, and I suspect there was really good beer involved in its writing, but it was beautiful.
Speaking of beer, you remember that time we drank those pints together? Oh, I guess I should be more specific. My point is, you and beer go together. You're the guy who shows up at the party with his own cooler of beer so that he doesn't have to worry about space in the fridge. Your beer is always good and you're always glad to share. Saint Bill.