Louis Roney: Infamous last words

• Does anyone wonder whether the American public was sharp enough to pick up on the slick removal of the true facts of the Benghazi affair from the news spotlight? This affair, of course, is covered up to shield Hillary Clinton from the blight of anything that might endanger her planned run for president. In this upcoming campaign, expect more of this sort of propaganda that will include on-going protection by the media, for all of Hillary’s past “unfortunate missteps.” The lady may well rue a thousand times in connection with the Benghazi affair having said the words, “What difference does it make?” Well, she may now find out!

• My father was smart. I thought he knew everything about everything that was. When I read Edgar Alan Poe’s “The Purloined Letter” in school, I asked Dad what “purloined” meant. Quick as a whip he said, “Stolen. When something is stolen from you, it is distanced from you, and ‘loin’ means ‘afar’ in French.” I said, “Why didn’t Poe use words that American kids could understand?” Later I knew something about Poe because I often drove by the Richmond house he had lived in. But despite Poe’s big bunch of big words, it never quite occurred to me what all of them meant. At 12 I had written down 400 words on a tablet, words enough to suffice me for my whole life in anything I thought I might want to say.

Then I met the beauteous Magdalena and she said something like, “It is coincidental that I should make your acquaintance just at the opportune time, for you have a simplicity that is enchanting for a complicated person like me.” That’s when I sensed I would need a bigger vocabulary! Magdalena and I ran across each other often in school, and soon I found myself taking on her big nouns and verbs, and particularly her adjectives.

Communication via human speech is really quite a mysterious invention. When you first heard, “I was curious to comprehend what he said,” how did you know what “curious” and “comprehend” meant? If the other person said, “I’m sorry about your misapprehension” ... did you know what in heck she was talking about? It appears that we take on understanding of many abstract words by the dramatic situation in which they first occur.

When I was a little kid, I said to my grandmother, “I love peanut butter.” She answered, “You don’t love peanut butter, you like it! You love people.” “You mean,” I said, “I don’t love my dog?” “Yes, I guess you can love your dog—but not peanut butter!”

Niceties are nowadays often sloughed over in daily speech, but there is pretty good reason to be careful about them in serious written communication.

I often call my b.w. “Darling pie, the most darling of all pies.” She may smile a bit, but she hasn’t divorced me yet. “You Call Everybody Darling” is worth singing to a person who qualifies. “Darling” and “sweetheart” are words too often used on Broadway and in Hollywood. Actors seem to call each other “darling” even when it’s man to man. And, if it’s meant really caustically, one might even say, “Listen, sweetheart...” I seem to remember instances where James Cagney, Humphrey Bogart and Edward G. Robinson said things like that to each other.

Lauren Bacall made her introduction in movies famous with the words, “…just whistle. You know how to whistle don’t you, Steve? You just put your lips together and blow.” With those words she snared Humphrey for life – marriage, that is.

Clark Gable said to Vivian Leigh upon walking out on her in “Gone With the Wind,” “Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.” Vivien Leigh had the last words saying, “I’ll think about that tomorrow...” Did her “tomorrow” ever come? Did Rhett come back? When asked, even author Margaret Mitchell would answer only, “How should I know?”

• We enjoyed a lovely time at lunch with Gene Hawkins in his beautiful home on Lake Maitland. We renewed our friendship with Chichina, who took care of the vittles – a helpful person who makes life easier for our dear friend Gene.