Ron is real. That fact alone should scare you. Happy Ronday!
As you may recall, Ron and my sister had bought Garth Brooks tickets using the money from when his car payment had bounced.
That was the final straw for me as far as helping my sister out financially. I would buy her groceries, I would give her rides, I would help her look for jobs and apartments and help in other ways. But I just wasn’t going to give her any more money, even as short-term loans.
My father and stepmom felt the same way and felt like it was time they learned a little truth and consequence. So when they got the inevitable call from my sister that she and Ron were broke again and they really needed money, my father proposed a plan. My father would buy the concert tickets from them, enabling them to get the money they so “desperately” needed.
Of course, this was not fair to either Ron or my sister. Give up concert tickets so they could have food and gas? Eschew luxury for practicality? Heresy! But after a few days, they took the offer and the exchange was made.
Now, my father & step mom had no interest in seeing Garth Brooks in concert –but now they had tickets to go see him. They couldn’t give the tickets back to my sister, because they would not be proving their point.
So one day, my father hands me the tickets. My husband at the time and I lived in the town where the concert was being given, and liked a few of his songs well enough. What was I to do? We went to the concert, never saying a word of it to my sister. The man put on a great show, even from our nosebleed seats.
A few weeks later, Ron and Sis came to dinner. Ron being Ron, he thought nothing of poking about our bookshelf and found the concert program.
“Aw man, you guys got to go? We had tickets y’know.”
I tried to maintain my best oblivious face. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, and they were primo seats too. As close to floor seats as you can get without actually being down on the floor.”
“Wow – those sound like great seats.” And nothing like the seats we sat in.
“Yeah,” he says, growing confident. “Y’know, I have connections with the [local arena].” (my translation – Burger King evidently must serve there . . .)
I nod, trying hard to maintain. My husband at this point excuses himself to attend to “something important.”
“Yeah, well, your dad and mum really wanted them so we gave them the tickets instead.
“But,” he added, leaning forward in his Ron-on-the-prowl way. “Had I realized you guys wanted them, I would have given them to you.”
If you only knew, Ron, if you only knew.