Today would be the birthday of my friend Ron Jenkins, born September 22, 1953, exactly one month before me.

I mention that because it was a standing joke between us. As long as Ron showed up at an event, I wasn’t the oldest person in the room. I always found that reassuring. I’m not entirely sure Ron found it quite as funny as I did.

But today, I want to pay tribute to Ron for a much more important reason.

There are people who enter our lives and, often without ever realizing it, change its direction. They introduce us to people we otherwise would never have known. They create spaces where friendships can grow. They become part of memories that stretch across decades. And sometimes, only after they are gone do we fully appreciate just how different our lives would have been without them.

Ron was one of those people for me.

Earlier this year, I created Mansion-Men.com and dedicated it to Ron, Pat Turner and Yvonne Gill. All three, along with several others, changed my life in ways I don’t think they ever fully understood. Sadly, all three have now left this world, but the friendships and memories they helped create remain very much alive.

Ron owned the house where our circle of friends gathered nearly every Saturday night for years. I’m not sure the house technically qualified as a mansion, but that’s what we called it. Eventually, our circle of friends became known as the “Mansion Men,” which is where the name of the website came from.

Ron was a quiet man. He might not have been the first person you noticed when you walked into a room, but once you got to know him, he quickly became a good friend.

We also played pool on the same team for years. Several members of that team, including me, were absolutely terrible losers. When we lost a game, we became angry with ourselves and usually made certain everyone around us knew it. Ron could be included in that group as well!

But we loved playing together, and fortunately, more often than not, we won our matches.

Around the age of 50, Ron made the life-changing decision to become a father, bringing two children into his life. Soon afterward, he sold the “mansion” and moved to Florida.

I think he worried that distance and time might bring an end to the friendships that had grown out of those Saturday-night gatherings.

It didn’t.

We may not see one another as often as we once did, but the friendships remain. Some of them now reach back almost 40 years.

And that is why Ron became such an important pivot point in my life.

Because Ron was there, my life took a turn I never could have anticipated. I met people I otherwise might never have met, and because we had a place to gather week after week, those acquaintances had the opportunity to become friendships, and those friendships had the time to become family.

We gathered every Saturday. We traveled together, both near and far. We took annual trips to different destinations. We threw themed parties that became traditions. We laughed, argued, celebrated, competed, grew older and experienced life together.

Looking back, those weren’t simply Saturday nights.

They became part of the fabric of our lives.

Without Ron, my life would look very different today. He certainly wasn’t the only person who helped shape it, but he was unquestionably one of them.

Perhaps that is something worth remembering on anyone’s birthday: we don’t always know the impact we have on another person’s life. Sometimes simply opening a door, offering a place to gather, introducing people to one another or being a friend can create ripples that continue for decades.

Ron did that for me.

So today, on September 22, I remember my friend. I remember the pool games, the parties, the mansion, the trips, the laughter and all those Saturday nights. Most of all, I remember the friendships that grew from them and continue all these years later.

And yes, Ron, I also remember that for exactly one month every year, you were older than me.

I still think that’s funny.

Happy Birthday, Ron.