We hear a lot these days about people and their “BFFs.”

It’s not a difficult acronym to decipher, but I wonder how accurate it really is for most people. Of course nothing involving human life is “forever,” but I wonder how many people are fortunate enough to have someone who is their best friend from the time they meet until one of them dies.

It’s pretty rare, I’d wager.

Well, I’ve had a best friend for going on 45 years now, a friend I met when he was a little Mexican kid. Imagine my surprise when I learned he didn’t have one drop of Latino blood, that he was in fact one of the whitest white men in the world.

Editor’s note: Mike …

We kid because we love.

I met Mick Curran in the summer of 1965 at the pool in Mosby Woods, the housing development where both of our families lived in Fairfax, Va. He was as brown as you could get without being subject to miscegenation laws, so my friend Steve Forner immediately tagged him with the nickname “Pancho.”

Hey, it was 1965.

Of course I later learned he was actually half Italian and half Irish, and even though he was three years younger than me, we became close friends. We played ball together in all seasons — baseball, football, basketball — and we talked about an endless list of subjects. No one could have been a better friend than he was, and those are the kind of friendships that last.

He's the man

He stood as best man at both of my weddings, first in Arlington, Va., and then in Los Angeles. I missed his wedding in 1979 because my own marriage was falling apart.

He came to California in 1976 for graduate school at Southern Cal. He wanted to be the next Spielberg, and when that didn’t work out, he settled for being a good husband and a wonderful father. His three children — two of them grown now — are his pride and joy, and I expect all three of them to make a mark in the world.

Mick hasn’t had it easy. He’s making a living by working as an adjunct professor at two Southern California community colleges, both of which have made the mistake of not hiring him full-time. Maybe he’s too white, too male or too old, but I feel pretty confident in saying that he’s one of the finest teachers at either of those schools.

Yeah, he’s my BFF. My best friend forever, even though we’ve reached a point where if we spend any time together more than once a month, it’s a good month. Sadly even that will change next year when Nicole and I move back east to be closer to my family and our children. I might not see Mick even once a year then.

But he’ll always be in my heart, just as he has been ever since I met that little Mexican kid 44 years ago this summer.