I have to laugh at Henry Winkler.
The man has been friends with Ron Howard for more than fifty years, and apparently he still can't manage to remember to send the guy a birthday present.
Meanwhile, Ron sends Henry a basket of cheese and crackers every year.
Every year!
And Henry knows perfectly well when Ron's birthday is. It's March 1.
He just doesn't seem to get around to doing anything about it.
Winkler, who turned 81 on October 30, shared the story during a November 3, 2026, appearance on Good Morning America. The conversation made the news again on November 7 when People published an article about their enduring friendship.
And when asked about forgetting Ron's birthday, Henry didn't attempt to invent an excuse.
He admitted it.
Then he made a joke about never getting around to sending Ron cheese.
Good grief, Henry. You could at least send the poor man some crackers!
But here's the interesting part.
Ron Howard doesn't appear to be holding it against him.
The two men have remained close since they first worked together on Happy Days in the 1970s. They've supported each other's careers, worked together after leaving the sitcom, and maintained a friendship that has survived enormous changes in both their lives.
Henry has even been the godfather of Ron's daughter, actress Bryce Dallas Howard.
Clearly, this is more than a friendship based on exchanging birthday presents.
And it got me thinking.
Does being a good friend require two people to demonstrate affection in exactly the same ways?
Should we expect someone who receives a birthday present to send an equally thoughtful present in return?
And when one friend seems to be doing more of the remembering, calling, or reaching out, does that automatically mean the relationship is unfair?
I don't think the answer is quite that simple.
But I also don't believe friendship should become an excuse for one person to do all the work while the other simply enjoys the benefits.
So let's look at Ron and Henry, because their relationship offers a much better lesson than whether somebody remembered to order a gift basket.
Richie Cunningham and Fonzie Weren't Supposed to Be Alike
When Happy Days premiered in January 1974, Ron Howard played Richie Cunningham, the wholesome, redheaded teenager growing up in Milwaukee during the 1950s.
Henry Winkler played Arthur Fonzarelli, better known as Fonzie.
And the two characters couldn't have been more different.
Richie came from a comfortable, loving family. His parents, Howard and Marion Cunningham, cared about his education, his behavior, and the kind of young man he was becoming.
Fonzie had a tougher background. He wore a leather jacket, rode a motorcycle, and cultivated an image that suggested nobody could tell him what to do.
Richie was the polite kid who worried about disappointing his parents.
Fonzie was the fellow who could walk into Arnold's Drive-In, snap his fingers, and attract attention without even trying.
Naturally, audiences loved him.
And I can understand why.
Henry Winkler was wonderfully funny as Fonzie. He made a character who could have been nothing more than a stereotypical tough guy surprisingly warm, vulnerable, and likable.
But Richie was important to that transformation.
He didn't judge Fonzie entirely by his leather jacket or reputation.
He treated him as a friend.
And Fonzie came to care about Richie and the Cunningham family.
Over time, Fonzie became something like an unofficial family member. He even moved into the apartment above the Cunningham garage.
I always appreciated that part of the show.
Howard and Marion didn't insist that Fonzie become a completely different person before they welcomed him into their lives.
They recognized that underneath the tough exterior was a young man capable of loyalty and kindness.
And Fonzie didn't require Richie to become a motorcycle-riding rebel before treating him as a friend.
They accepted that they were different.
I think that's one reason the friendship worked so well on television.
A good friendship doesn't require two people to have the same personality. It requires them to respect the person behind the differences.
Richie and Fonzie could learn from each other without becoming copies of each other.
And as it turns out, the actors playing them developed a friendship that survived long after their television characters went their separate ways.
Fonzie Almost Stole the Show—and Ron Had Every Reason to Be Upset
Here's something I find more revealing about their friendship than the birthday presents.
When Happy Days began, Richie Cunningham was the central character.
Ron Howard was already a familiar television star because he'd grown up playing Opie Taylor on The Andy Griffith Show.
Henry Winkler was the newcomer.
But Fonzie became an enormous sensation.
Fans loved the leather jacket, the thumbs-up gesture, the catchphrases, and the seemingly effortless cool.
As Fonzie's popularity grew, the show increasingly emphasized his character.
And network executives reportedly considered changing the title to Fonzie's Happy Days.
Now, imagine being Ron Howard.
You've signed on to star in a television series.
You're doing your job well.
The show is successful.
And suddenly the network is considering putting somebody else's character in the title.
I wouldn't be thrilled, either.
And Ron wasn't.
He's acknowledged that the attention surrounding Fonzie hurt his feelings, although he recognized that Henry wasn't doing anything wrong by becoming popular.
I appreciate that distinction.
It would have been easy for Ron to resent Henry personally.
After all, Henry's success was changing the direction of the show.
But Ron understood that his colleague hadn't engineered the situation to humiliate him.
The audience had responded to Fonzie, and the network wanted to capitalize on that popularity.
Henry, meanwhile, was aware of Ron's feelings.
And he didn't use his growing popularity as an excuse to push Ron aside.
Instead, Winkler objected to the proposed title change.
He felt that renaming the program around Fonzie would be disrespectful to the other actors and to the ensemble that had made the show successful.
Ron also opposed the idea, and creator Garry Marshall supported keeping the original title.
So Happy Days remained Happy Days.
I think that's a much better demonstration of friendship than a gift basket.
Henry had an opportunity to benefit from being the show's most popular character.
He could have embraced the proposed change and let Ron deal with the disappointment.
But he recognized that his own success didn't have to come at someone else's expense.
And Ron, for his part, didn't demand that Henry stop being successful to protect his feelings.
A friend's success shouldn't be treated as your personal defeat, and your own success shouldn't become an excuse to humiliate a friend.
That's a lesson plenty of adults could use.
Especially in workplaces where promotions, recognition, and professional opportunities can create tension between people who otherwise get along.
It's possible to be genuinely happy for someone while admitting that a situation has disappointed you.
And it's possible to accept an opportunity without becoming arrogant about it.
Ron and Henry had a legitimate source of professional tension.
They managed to keep it from destroying their relationship.
I'd say that's worth considerably more than remembering which day somebody was born.
Henry Didn't Just Support Ron's Career. He Helped Make Night Shift Possible.
There's another story about these men that deserves more attention.
After leaving Happy Days in 1980, Ron Howard pursued his ambition of becoming a film director.
He'd already directed the 1977 movie Grand Theft Auto, but he wanted to establish himself as a serious Hollywood feature-film director.
In 1982, he directed Night Shift, a comedy starring Henry Winkler and Michael Keaton.
Winkler played Chuck Lumley, a former stockbroker who ends up working in a New York City morgue. Keaton played his energetic and unpredictable coworker, Bill Blazejowski.
The movie was an important step in Ron's directing career.
And according to Ron, Henry's participation helped get it made.
In a 2025 interview with People, Howard explained that having Winkler attached to the film helped persuade the studio to approve the project.
Henry was a major television star.
His involvement gave the movie credibility with the people deciding whether to finance it.
And he agreed to participate.
Now, that's what I call showing up for a friend.
Ron had a professional ambition.
Henry was in a position to help.
And rather than simply wishing him good luck, he used his own standing in the industry to support him.
That doesn't mean Henry agreed to appear in a movie he hated or made some enormous personal sacrifice we haven't been told about.
He was an actor accepting a role.
But the decision also helped his friend get an important opportunity.
And Ron has acknowledged that help publicly.
I think that's lovely.
Because friendship isn't always expressed through presents, telephone calls, or holiday cards.
Sometimes it comes through helping somebody pursue a goal.
Introducing a friend to someone who can assist with a career opportunity.
Encouraging someone who's afraid to take a chance.
Or using your experience to help another person accomplish something important.
And Ron clearly appreciated what Henry did.
In fact, he's described Henry as someone he admired when they first worked together.
He respected his approach to acting, his theatrical education, and the way he thought about his craft.
The relationship wasn't simply two celebrities enjoying one another's company.
They learned from each other.
And when the opportunity arose, they helped each other move forward.
So when I hear Henry confess that he never seems to send Ron birthday cheese, I'm not terribly concerned that Ron has spent fifty years doing all the giving.
The evidence suggests a much fuller relationship.
If you're evaluating a friendship, look at how the people treat one another over time—not simply who bought the last present.
You may discover that the person who forgets birthdays is the same person who shows up when something important is at stake.
Richie Almost Died, and Fonzie Couldn't Bear the Thought of Losing Him
The friendship between the actors also reminds me of one of the more emotional Happy Days episodes.
"Richie Almost Dies," which aired January 31, 1978, puts Richie in the hospital after a serious motorcycle accident.
Earlier in the episode, Richie purchases a motorcycle from Fonzie.
Howard Cunningham is initially opposed to the idea, but Fonzie helps persuade him that Richie can ride safely with appropriate precautions.
Unfortunately, Richie is later involved in a crash while riding with Lori Beth.
He suffers serious injuries and falls into a coma.
The Cunningham family is devastated.
And Fonzie is deeply shaken.
Now, I wouldn't ignore the fact that Fonzie had encouraged Howard to let Richie keep the motorcycle. That helps explain why he might feel some responsibility for what happened, even though the crash wasn't something he intended.
But his reaction is also about the possibility of losing a friend.
In one of the episode's most emotional scenes, Fonzie visits Richie in the hospital.
He talks to him.
He prays for his recovery.
And the tough guy who usually seems so confident begins crying.
That's not the Fonzie who snaps his fingers and expects everyone to admire him.
That's a frightened young man who loves his friend and doesn't know what to do.
He can't repair Richie's injuries the way he repairs a motorcycle.
He can't solve the problem with a clever remark or a threatening look.
All he can do is stay beside him and hope.
And he does.
He spends the night at the hospital, refusing to abandon his friend while the family waits for news.
I think that scene reveals more about Fonzie's character than all the times he successfully intimidated some neighborhood troublemaker.
Because anybody can look tough while everything is going well.
It's considerably harder to show how frightened you are when someone you love might die.
Fonzie wasn't embarrassed to cry for Richie.
He cared more about his friend's survival than maintaining his cool image.
And I think that's exactly the sort of emotional honesty men were too often discouraged from showing on television.
Of course, the episode eventually allows Richie to recover.
It is Happy Days, after all.
But the scene stays with me because it shows that genuine affection isn't measured by who's the toughest person in the room.
Sometimes friendship means sitting beside someone when you have absolutely no control over what happens next.
And that's a side of Fonzie I always appreciated.
A Forgotten Birthday Isn't the Same as a One-Sided Friendship
Now, before anybody decides this article means it's fine to forget every important occasion in a friend's life, I'd like to make a distinction.
I don't believe one person should be expected to maintain an entire friendship while the other does nothing.
If I'm always the one calling, checking in, remembering birthdays, making plans, and offering help, eventually I'm going to wonder whether the other person actually values our relationship.
And I think that's reasonable.
Friendship should involve some measure of mutual effort.
But mutual effort doesn't necessarily mean identical behavior.
One friend might remember every birthday.
Another might be terrible with dates but immediately offer help when somebody needs a ride to the doctor.
One might enjoy sending cards.
Another might prefer calling for a long conversation.
And someone who isn't particularly expressive might still be wonderfully dependable when things go wrong.
We shouldn't automatically assume that the person who behaves differently cares less.
The question I'd ask is whether each person contributes to the relationship in a meaningful way.
Does your friend listen when you're upset?
Does she respect your feelings?
Can you count on her when you've genuinely got a problem?
Does she take an interest in your life?
And when you tell her something is important to you, does she make some effort to remember?
Because there's a limit to how far I'd take the excuse that everybody expresses friendship differently.
If a person knows that remembering your birthday means a great deal to you, and year after year makes no effort despite your telling him how hurt you feel, I wouldn't simply dismiss your disappointment.
That deserves a conversation.
But we don't have evidence that Ron Howard is sitting at home every March 1, devastated because Henry Winkler hasn't sent him a basket of cheese.
For all we know, Ron finds the situation as funny as Henry does.
The two men have maintained a close relationship for decades, and neither has presented this birthday tradition as a serious grievance.
So I wouldn't invent one.
What interests me is that their friendship appears to have room for differences.
One man remembers birthdays.
The other keeps forgetting.
And neither seems to believe that difference cancels out the affection and support they've demonstrated over the years.
I think that's a healthier way to evaluate friendship than maintaining a running account of who owes whom.
Although, Henry, seriously, your phone has a calendar.
You could at least set a reminder.
Jewish Wisdom Has Something to Say About Keeping Score
There's a teaching in Pirkei Avot 1:6 that tells us to acquire a friend.
The Hebrew expression is k'neh lecha chaver.
I've always appreciated that the teaching presents friendship as something worth making an effort to obtain and maintain.
A friendship doesn't necessarily develop simply because two people happen to work together or enjoy the same television programs.
Some relationships grow naturally.
Others require us to make the first invitation, offer help, or invest time getting to know someone.
And once a good friendship develops, we should appreciate it.
One traditional commentary, attributed to Rabbi Ovadiah of Bartenura, even emphasizes the willingness to spend resources in order to establish a friendship.
I wouldn't interpret that as suggesting we should buy people's affection.
That would be a terrible foundation for a relationship.
But I do think it recognizes that friendship is valuable enough to require effort.
Time.
Consideration.
Generosity.
Sometimes money.
And occasionally remembering to order the cheese and crackers.
There's another teaching in Pirkei Avot 5:16 that I think fits Ron and Henry even better.
It distinguishes between love that depends on some outside benefit and love that doesn't depend on such a benefit.
The teaching uses David and Jonathan as an example of a bond that isn't based on an external advantage.
Now, I wouldn't claim that every friendship between two actors should be compared to a biblical relationship.
And we can't know every private detail of Ron and Henry's friendship.
But the principle is useful.
If I care about someone only because she gives me presents, helps me professionally, or makes my life convenient, what happens when those benefits stop?
Does the friendship disappear?
Or do I continue valuing the person?
In the case of Ron and Henry, the circumstances that first brought them together changed long ago.
Happy Days ended in 1984.
They went on to different professional experiences.
Ron became a major director.
Henry continued acting, writing children's books, and developing a career that extended far beyond Fonzie.
They didn't need to see one another on a television set every week to remain friends.
They still kept the relationship.
To me, that's the more convincing evidence of affection.
A friendship worth keeping isn't one in which every favor is immediately repaid. It's one in which both people care about each other even when there's nothing to gain.
That doesn't mean ignoring exploitation or tolerating a friend who never gives anything back.
It means recognizing the difference between generosity and a business transaction.
If I give a friend a present, I hope she'll appreciate it.
I don't want to treat the gift as a debt she must repay with something of equal value.
And if she gives me something wonderful next year, I hope it's because she wants to, not because I've been keeping a ledger.
I think that's what being a mensch involves in friendship.
Give because you care.
Accept generosity with gratitude.
And remember that kindness isn't supposed to come with an invoice.
Not Every Friendship Looks Like Richie and Fonzie
One of the things Happy Days understood about friendship was that people don't have to be alike to care about each other.
Richie was responsible, conventional, and often cautious.
Fonzie was unconventional, outspoken, and frequently impulsive.
But they developed genuine affection and respect.
And when Richie needed him, Fonzie could be remarkably devoted.
I explored another example of an unexpected friendship in my article about Wayne Arnold showing compassion to Wart on The Wonder Years.
Wayne wasn't exactly famous for his sensitivity. But when he recognized that his friend was struggling, he demonstrated that caring about someone sometimes requires looking beyond your usual behavior.
I think the same principle applies here.
Fonzie didn't have to become Richie.
And Richie didn't have to become Fonzie.
They simply had to recognize when the other person needed understanding, loyalty, or support.
The real-life relationship between Winkler and Howard offers a similar lesson.
Ron had his own interests and ambitions.
Henry had his.
They didn't follow identical career paths, and their professional circumstances changed dramatically over time.
But they remained interested in one another's success.
When Ron needed an established actor for Night Shift, Henry helped.
When the network wanted to build the entire television show's identity around Fonzie, Henry resisted a change that would have hurt his fellow cast members.
And decades later, Ron still remembers Henry's birthday.
Those are different expressions of friendship.
I wouldn't rank them according to dollar value.
Nor would I assume the man who sends the basket every year is necessarily the more devoted friend.
We don't know enough about every interaction between them to make that judgment.
But we know they've maintained the relationship for more than half a century.
And they've spoken warmly about one another for years.
I'd say they've figured out something worthwhile.
What Happens When Friends Stop Working Together?
There's another aspect of their friendship I find encouraging.
Some of our closest relationships begin because we're in the same place every day.
We attend school together.
We work at the same company.
We live in the same neighborhood.
And maintaining the friendship is relatively easy because we see each other regularly.
Then life changes.
Someone graduates.
Someone gets married.
Someone moves.
A job ends.
And suddenly the relationship requires more effort.
It's no longer enough to run into each other every afternoon.
We have to decide whether we want to remain connected.
That's where many friendships fade.
Not necessarily because either person is angry or has done something wrong.
Sometimes the circumstances that made the relationship convenient simply disappear.
Ron and Henry experienced that when Ron left Happy Days in 1980.
Their careers took different directions.
And Henry remained with the series until it ended.
But the friendship continued.
They worked together again on Night Shift.
They remained involved in each other's lives.
And they continued speaking affectionately about one another decades after their television partnership ended.
I think that's lovely.
Because friendship shouldn't have to expire simply because the circumstances that created it have changed.
Of course, people grow apart.
Sometimes a friendship belongs to a certain period of life, and that's perfectly normal.
But when two people continue valuing each other, they can find ways to maintain a connection even when their daily routines no longer overlap.
It might involve a telephone call.
A visit.
A shared meal.
Or an annual birthday gift.
The gesture doesn't have to be elaborate.
It just has to be sincere.
And sometimes a long friendship survives not because people have followed a complicated set of rules, but because they still genuinely enjoy each other's company.
I think Ron and Henry are a wonderful example of that.
My Verdict: Henry Owes Ron Some Cheese, but Friendship Isn't an Accounting System
I love that Henry Winkler was comfortable enough to admit on national television that he regularly forgets Ron Howard's birthday.
And I love that he made a joke about it.
He wasn't pretending to be the perfect friend.
He wasn't inventing a story about how the mail lost his present every year.
He admitted that Ron remembers and he doesn't.
I appreciate that kind of honesty.
Although I do hope that by March 1, 2027, Henry manages to figure out how the reminder function on his phone works.
But I wouldn't judge their friendship by the birthday gifts alone.
Ron and Henry have been friends since the early 1970s.
They supported one another through the extraordinary popularity of Happy Days.
They managed professional tensions that might have ended another friendship.
And when Ron wanted to establish himself as a major film director, Henry's participation in Night Shift helped him take an important step.
Henry also became part of Ron's family life as the godfather of his daughter Bryce.
Those are meaningful connections.
And they tell us far more about the relationship than whether Ron receives a basket of snacks each March.
At the same time, I don't believe people should use this story as an excuse to take a generous friend for granted.
If somebody has spent years making an effort to show you affection, appreciate it.
Say thank you.
Find ways to return the kindness.
And don't assume the person will continue doing all the work forever.
The goal isn't to make every gesture identical.
It's to make sure both people feel valued.
And that may look different from one friendship to another.
Some people are wonderful at remembering occasions.
Some are better at offering practical help.
Some know exactly what to say when life becomes difficult.
And others are the ones who will sit beside you in a hospital when there's nothing they can do except keep you company.
I wouldn't want to lose a good friend because she forgot a birthday.
But I also wouldn't want to spend years in a relationship where I was the only person making an effort.
There's a reasonable middle ground.
Appreciate what each person contributes.
Be willing to talk about your needs.
And don't turn every gesture into a competition.
That's the lesson I take from Ron Howard and Henry Winkler.
Their friendship has survived fame, career changes, professional disappointment, and the end of the television series that introduced them.
It has even survived Henry's complete inability to send Ron a birthday present.
And when I think about Pirkei Avot telling us to acquire a friend, I understand why the sages regarded friendship as something worth investing in.
Good friends enrich our lives.
They help us grow.
They make difficult experiences easier to manage.
And sometimes they're the people who recognize our potential before we've had an opportunity to demonstrate it.
Ron and Henry seem to have been that kind of friend to each other.
One helped the other develop his career.
The other remembered his birthday.
And both continued valuing the relationship long after they stopped sharing a television set.
A true friendship doesn't require every act of kindness to be repaid in exactly the same way. But it does require both people to care enough to keep showing up.
I think these two have demonstrated that rather well.
Still, Henry, if you're reading this, March 1 is Ron's birthday.
Write it down.
Put it in your phone.
Order him a basket.
And for heaven's sake, after fifty years, send the man some cheese. 😂
Sources and Further Reading
People — Henry Winkler Reveals Ron Howard's Annual Birthday Gift (November 7, 2026)
Parade — Henry Winkler Talks About His Birthday Gift Tradition With Ron Howard (November 4, 2026)
People — Ron Howard Discusses His Friendship With Henry Winkler (May 29, 2025)
Harvard Business Review — Ron Howard on Collaborative Leadership and Career Longevity
