17-year old Richie Cunningham turned his alarm clock off and glanced out the window. It was a beautiful Fall day in Milwaukee. But it wasn't just any Thursday. It was September 24, 1953, his best friend, Potsie's 17th birthday.
Potsie wasn't his given name. In fact, his birth name was Warren David Webber. But no one called him "Warren," not even his mother. In fact, it was his mother who gave him his nickname. As a child, Potsie loved to play in the clay and one day when he made a pot out of clay, his mother called him "Potsie." The name stuck.
After eating breakfast, Richie and his younger sister, 14-year old Joanie, walked to school. When Jenny Piccalo, Joanie's best friend caught up with them, they left Richie in the dust. A couple minutes later, Potsie joined Richie.
"Hey Potsie, happy birthday!" Richie smiled.
"Thanks Rich." Potsie grinned.
"You've caught up to us in age again." Richie teased.
"I'm not that much younger." Potsie smiled.
Richie was referring to their birthdays. With his June 18 birthday, Ralph Malph was the oldest of the trio. Richie's birthday was on July 4 and Potsie would join them on September 24.
"I'm just teasing." Richie smiled.
"I know." Potsie smiled.
The school day was soon over.
"Do you guys wanna go to the movies this weekend?" Ralph asked Richie and Potsie.
"Sure, sounds great." Potsie smiled.
"Sounds good to me." Richie agreed.
"Saturday at 2?" Ralph asked.
"Yeah, sounds great." Potsie smiled.
"Okay, you guys have fun tonight. See you both tomorrow. And happy birthday again Potsie."
"Thanks Ralph. See you tomorrow." Potise smiled.
Potsie was coming over to spend the night with Richie.
After doing homework for about an hour, Mrs. Cunningham called everyone to the table.
Cheeseburgers and ice cream were for supper.
"Looks great, Mrs. C," Potsie smiled. "Thanks for having me over."
"Oh Potsie, you know you're welcome anytime." Mrs. C replied.
Everyone sat down and began to eat.
"Can someone please pass the ketchup?" Richie asked.
Mr. Cunningham handed the bottle to his son.
"Rich, do you remember when you got ketchup all over Mr. Long's white shirt back in third grade?" Potsie asked.
Richie shuddered. "Do I ever! I didn't think I'd live to see fourth grade."
Potsie chuckled.
After supper, the boys went upstairs and finished their homework. They then went downstairs to play cards for a while with Mr. C.
That night, Potsie and Richie talked before bed.
"You have a really great relationship with you dad, Rich. I wish I had that."
"My dad and I don't always get along, but we do try our best."
"Yeah, but you have him here with you all the time." Potsie paused. "I guess I get jealous sometimes. I wish I had that kind of relationship with my dad. He left when just two days before Christmas in 1946. I thought things would work out and I'd have my dad for Christmas that year. But it didn't."
Richie just listened.
"You know, it's funny the things I remember about him. I was only ten when he left, but I remember things about him. I remember that his favorite color was red. I remember how tall he was. I remember how he smelled like Old Spice deodorant all the time…" tears streamed down Potsie's cheeks. "I'm sorry Rich, I'm tired."
Richie spoke gently. "Potsie, I'm so sorry for all the struggles and hurt you and your mom have been through."
"I would be lying if I said it didn't hurt some days." Potsie replied. "But you know, having you, Fonzie, Ralph, Joanie, and your parents really does help. And of course my mom."
"Your mom is a saint, Potsie." Richie smiled.
"I'm pretty lucky, aren't I?" Potise grinned.
Richie just smiled.
"I'm so glad I have you Richie. You're like the brother I never had."
"I second that. You're like my twin, born about ten weeks after me."
Potsie laughed out loud. "Night Richie. See you in the morning."
"Night Potsie. And again, happy birthday."
"Thanks Rich, see you in the morning."