Dalton Roberts’s podcast about what he has with a Confederate Army general.

At Thanksgiving, I miss Onnie Spears. One of the most memorable Thanksgivings of my life was spent with him and his family.

He was black, and I am white, except for Mama’s Cherokee grandfather. We often laughed over foolishness like that. He felt he was as good as any white man, and he was; and I felt I was good as any black man, except maybe Joe Louis and Nelson Mandela.

We all have points of compatibility with our friends, and the enjoyment of boxing was something Onnie and I shared. It’s a savage sport and probably should be discontinued; but until it is, I will continue to admire those who have the guts, audacity and self-confidence to step inside a ring and trust their fate to their wits and two fists. I will watch it out of admiration.

When watching the really big fights got so expensive, Onnie and I would take turns paying for the telecasts. If justice had been done, I would have paid for all of them because Onnie was the best part of the show. He’d weave back and forth in his easy chair, stab the air with his fists and leap to his feet when the action got hot and heavy. In a eulogy at his funeral I said, “The closest thing to being in the ring was watching a fight with Onnie.”

I was so glad I was asked to say a few words at his funeral because I had admired and loved the man for decades. I could have loved him for nothing but his laugh. It was a booming laugh that started down deep in his chest and slowly took over his whole body. He never laughed at anyone. He laughed with you. And he was big enough to laugh at his own foibles and weaknesses.

He was a fiercely loyal friend. He grew up during some of the worst days of Jim Crow racism. He would stand right in your face if you were not respectful of him or any black person, but you could not make him hate you. He took seriously this business of being a follower of Jesus Christ.

I was happy that the Rev. Paul McDaniel preached his funeral. No one does it better.

So why does Thanksgiving make me think of my pal of many years? It goes back to a divorce and a quirky family situation at Thanksgiving time one year.

Thanksgiving had always been the main holiday at our home until our parents died. Big home-cooked meals and dining around mother’s big table stacked up some of the best memories of my entire life.

One year after my parents died, I had just gone through a divorce, my sister was living in Florida, and I was depressed as Thanksgiving neared. Onnie sensed it and asked me to share Thanksgiving dinner with him, his wife, Nola, and Nola’s mother.

We held hands standing around the table and Onnie prayed one of the most beautiful prayers of thanks I have ever hard. I felt as loved and welcome as I ever did at my own family’s celebrations.

The only thing that would have made it better would have been to watch Onnie knock out Mike Tyson from the comfort of his easy chair.

E-mail Dalton Roberts at DownhomeP@aol.com.