Louis Roney: Alias "Mary Jane"

• I had an older relative whose life was ruined by alcohol — a man of infinite charm and talents who ended up doing away with himself. I had asked him once on a trip while riding in his car, when he stopped at a bar to have a beer, “What does the beer’s alcohol do for you?” He told me in effect that it got him “out of himself and into a happier person” … Yeah! A person happy enough to kill himself in the end — which he did. All of us are, of course, seeking pleasure in being alive, finding joy in good things to eat, to drink, and to see and hear. Before the end of the road, however, we commonly stop short of pursuing things that can end all our earthly pleasures. Most of us have found happiness in giving to others our material goods, our love, our admiration and respect. Early in life we are told that, “It’s more blessed to give than to receive.” Later on, this truth becomes self-evident.

Marijuana is the alcohol of many in this generation. “Mary Jane” is almost as readily available as booze, and seems to be the drug that opens the door to cocaine, heroin and all the heavyweight mood-ameliorators. All these substances are addictive and are hard to “get off ones’ back” once they have taken hold. My existence’s biggest enjoyment has come from being cold sober, and letting my singing and speaking flow in total sobriety. What’s more, I can remember everything I said yesterday. Those who lie to get a marijuana “prescription” from a “doctor” betray both the medic and themselves.

• The Super Bowl was a flop hardly worth waiting for. Peyton Manning was going to do what? The pregame weeks of hype made us anticipate something rivaling the Second Coming, but it came and went without much more than a murmur. Another year of waiting for Peyton? Now comes “wait’ll next year!” Will the hype work again?

• After all these years! The phone rings this morning and a man is calling me from Bremerhafen, Germany. He wants to send a photo of me that he has for me to autograph and return it to him in Germany. It seems the fellow heard me sing in the Hamburg Staatsoper, low these many years ago — 40 years maybe? He located my American address and I shall, of course, fulfill his wish when I get the photo from him.

• My dad was a renowned fencer and taught me much about sportsmanship when I was a boy. When he joined the Rollins faculty in the early ‘30s, he was asked to institute fencing at Rollins. He took his Rollins teams north to fence – Army, Navy, Yale, Princeton, Harvard, NYU, CCNY, MIT, and other fencing powers in the east – and on these tours his Rollins teams often proved victorious. Once at Harvard at a Harvard/Rollins fencing match, I sat behind a Harvard bigwig. Suddenly he turned around to me and he said, “You go to Harvard don’t you?” “Yes sir!” I answered. “Then why are you cheering for Rollins?” he asked. “Sir,” I said, “My dad is the Rollins fencing coach.” “Oh! All right!” said the old man.

• What a delightful trip we took recently with our good friends who live across the street. We drove down to Lake Wales to the Bok Tower, saw one of the most impressive towers in the world and listened to a charming carillon concert. I had been there when I was about 10, when the Tower was almost new. I found it a place well worth revisiting. Beautiful planting greatly enhances the quiet thoughtfulness that the Tower engenders. The landscape architect was Henry Olmsted, whose best-known work is New York’s Central Park. If we have guests visiting, we’ll surely visit the Bok Tower again.

• “He who permits himself to tell a lie once, finds it much easier to do it a second and third time, till at length it becomes habitual; he tells lies without attending to it, and truths without the world’s believing him.” — Thomas Jefferson (1785)