#WhatAggravatesMe

Remembering Ronnie

Yesterday marked twenty-five years since we lost my younger brother in a tragic accident. I put out a post as a tribute to him, I wasn’t asking for sympathy or prayers. I’m not one of those people asking for prayers on Facebook. I really don’t know what good it does. Will my praying make the doctor repairing your Uncle Louie’s hernia any better?

So instead of making this a sad occasion, I thought I would share some of my memories of growing up with Ronnie. Anyone that met him will tell you he was a character…and they mean it in the best way possible. He was the kind of person you just had to love…no matter what.

Like any brothers we would fight. I remember more than once after going to bed, we would suddenly be throwing punches at each other in the middle of the bedroom. Then my dad would show up in his boxer shorts trying to be the disciplinarian. The sight of his skinny legs and fly hanging open would calm us with laughter and the fight would be over.

Yeah, we would fight each other, but nobody else better start anything with us. You start with one, you get both.

There’s a lot of stories I could tell about him. Like the time he attempted to do stand-up and handled a heckler by leaping from the stage and tackling him…No, that’s not the proper way to handle heckling and I don’t teach it in my classes.

As we got older and both were driving, my dad got tired of us always borrowing his car. He and my mother talked us into buying a car we could share. We got a Piss Yellow Dart Swinger with an ugly green vinyl roof for $1300.

After a few weeks, the gas gauge broke and stayed on a constant half full. We were on the honor system and it was up to the last person who drove it to put gas in the tank. I should have known better.

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