"He-e-e-e-r-e'-s R-o-n-n-i-e"

It really doesn't seem possible that my big brother is 70 years old today. Ron was only called Ronnie a brief time while he was little. It was usually 'Ronald' because Mom was a bit of a stickler about kids being called by their given names and not nick-named. Once he was in school, his name got shortened to Ron.
I don't think my brother was named for Dad's cousin, but they are both Ronald Earl (Figgins). And we have a cousin on Mom's side, Ronald Travis who did go by Ronnie. I think Ronald was just one of those popular names in the 30's and 40's like Gary and Larry and Jackie and Donald and Jimmy - all because of the movie stars. In the case of Ronald - Coleman and Reagan.
Ron was the only one of the four of us born at home. When I heard the details of his birth (three days in labor and forceps), I was amazed Mom had the rest of us. I know Grandma Ridnour was there at the birth. I feature her making the trip from Mom's side to Aunt Evelyn's for the birth of Lila Roberts on the 6th and then back to Mom's for Ron's birth. If he hadn't been so obstinate, Ronald could have shared his birthday with his father and his cousin.
I would say Ron's best friend during those early years was our neighbor, Norman (Normie, Norm) Firkins. It seemed like he was always at our house. When they were young, they played. When they were older, they helped with the haying and threshing. One time they teased Jodie Fudge (an old guy on the threshing crew) too much. He chased them down, held Normie by the heels over top the stinking barrel of hog slop and threatened to drop him in. They left him alone after that.
Ron's pets were Fritz the dog and Daisy the pony. I think Fritzie died after eating rat poison. I don't remember Daisy. They said she had a nasty habit of running under low tree limbs in order to knock her rider off. She went back to our landlord and we got Queenie. Queenie once drug Ron through a barbed wire gate on his way back from Firkins. When she was headed for home, she couldn't be stopped. Neither the horse nor rider saw the closed gate. They were both cut up pretty badly.

My big brother was three and a half years old when I was born. This picture of us was taken in January, 1944. One thing I notice in these pictures of Ronald is the resemblance his son and his four grandsons have to him.

As big brothers go, mine was one of the best. That doesn't mean he was always nice to me, however. Besides the corn cob fights, there was the time he was taking Spanish his sophomore year in high school. I had a big crush on a boy and wanted to tell him how I felt without actually saying it. So I asked Ron to teach me how to say "I love you" in Spanish. We were doing the milking at the time. He reached up into the narrow storage above where the harness was hung and pulled out a bottle of 'Old Grandad' whiskey. "Here, take a drink of this and I'll tell you how to say it." He took the cap off and handed it to me. I smelled it. "E-w-w-w, it smells awful." "Well, you have to take a swallow or I won't tell you." Dumb me. I took a sip big enough to take my breath away. I don't remember ever using the phrase on my crush, but I do remember "Yo Te Amo" and the way the whiskey burned all the way down my throat.

Ronald Earl had another nickname besides Ron that stuck all through high school. It also had something to do with his Spanish class. The name was "Ha". I've asked him the meaning and how he got the nickname and I can't remember what it was. Next time I'll write it down. Or you can ask him about it when you wish him a happy birthday.

May you have many more, big brother. I love you.