Ronnie Was My Best Friend

It’s funny how, when you look back on life, certain friends stand out. For me, that friend was Ronnie.

From third to sixth grade, we were inseparable. We shared more adventures than I can count—some exciting, some funny, and a few that might even make you cringe. We saved each other’s lives, explored places we probably shouldn’t have, and had secrets no one else would ever know—until now.

One of our earliest adventures, and still one of my favorites, was climbing to the cave on the hill. We had seen it from a distance for years, imagining all kinds of mysteries inside, only to reach it and find out it was nothing more than a man-made hole. But that didn’t stop us. The hills became our playground—catching lizards, tarantulas, mice, snakes, and even crawdads. Each of those could be its own story.

Ronnie was half Native American. Dad once told me that his tribe was the smartest in America. I believed it—Ronnie was sharp. His dad was an engineer at Convair, later called General Dynamics. I, on the other hand, was the opposite in school—always daydreaming, barely scraping by, while Ronnie just seemed to know everything.

Even though he was the smarter one, I was the leader—the daredevil. Ronnie went along with all my crazy ideas… sometimes because he wanted to, other times because I made him. Looking back, I realize now that I was kind of a bully—nothing cruel, but I had a habit of giving him light punches, thinking that was just my way of showing affection. Now, I wonder if Ronnie ever really liked it.

Would you love to hear more of these childhood misadventures?