Louis Roney: Completing the circle

My lifelong creed has been never to criticize a person for things over which he or she has no control. Such things that are often the sources of prejudice deserve no mention whatsoever.

Today my sister called me and along the way reminded me of a few things that she doesn’t like about me, some of which I had long since forgotten. I did not retaliate. I always thought my sister to be quite a spiffy gal, and I am not ready yet to change my position by getting involved in a family free-for-all. We grew up in Winter Park together, and haven’t spent much time together since then. She went to college in Virginia, and I in Massachusetts. Since my Navy days, I have wandered around the globe singing for a living, which, if you haven’t tried it, and count on three squares a day, is not the safest way to make a living.

My fate was not to be born to riches, but my life has been blessed by more than plenteous lucre ever could have brought me. I have hated no one and have loved those who showed the need and merit of another human beings love. One might even say that I have perhaps indulged in selfishness, for that trait is the source of much of my happiness. I have a wife who spoils me, and I raise no objections. She has taken to Winter Park like a native and wanted for us to have our own house here, so we flipped for a big old homestead that will take care of all our future needs – if our needs don’t get too obstreperous. Winter Park is in every desirable way, a study in charm. Our earliest days in Winter Park were much enriched by my old Harvard friend, writer Sloan Wilson – author of “The Man In The Gray Flannel Suit” – whom I discovered ex post facto was living just down the street from us, with his wife Betty. Sloan was also from Florida, and came to Harvard from Exeter by sailing his 87-foot schooner up the Charles River and mooring it in sight of our dorm. We had some colorful parties after football games on his “boat.” Betty surprised us all by getting up on the stage of an Orlando theater and performing the noted Broadway one man show “Zelda,” based on the wife of F. Scott Fitzgerald – quite a brilliant tour-de-force. Sloan and Betty spent many hours with us partaking of local cultural events and we missed the Wilson’s terribly when they moved to Virginia to be near their daughter.

One evening in our New York apartment I received a phone call from Sloan in Winter Park. He was then a visiting a professor of writing at Rollins.

He asked me if I knew a well-known writer who might make a guest lecture to his writing group. I asked him if James Dickey (who wrote “Deliverance”) would fill the bill. “My gosh! Yes!” Sloan said. He added, “I don’t have much money for the project, and his fee must be a big one.

What do you think?”

“I’ll see what I can do...maybe he would enjoy a visit to Florida about now.” Unfortunately, Joy and I were still in New York when Dickey spoke down here, but we understand he caused quite a stir amid the Rollins co-eds.

B.w. and I still live in Winter Park, the town of my childhood. The town has grown along with everything else, but it still remains a perfect place for homeowners.

I have worked long and hard in the many years since moving to Winter Park and I am happy that we are affluent enough to enjoy old age here.

There is something about the completed circle that is comforting for the human animal and brings a reassuring confidence. Getting back to one’s beginnings in one piece is a quite remarkable trick, and is the basis of much literary and historical significance. Thomas Wolfe wrote eloquently about this subject in his book that you can’t go home again. Then presto change-o, I attempted it! When you go back to something, you are often going forward to complete a circle of a human experience. Human thought is undeniably an ongoing connecting linking of human circumstance and understanding. I did it long ago – I came home again. It feels good!