Roy...at Retirement

 Roy

     This may be the final time for the LAPL dinosaurs to gather at the watering hole to roar at each other a bit. Roy and I have been roaring at each other for about 35 people years and we have not exhausted our supply of insults yet. We have been sort of male librarian brothers for four short decades and despite our fake bravado are actually very fond of one another.  When I first read an essay he wrote in 1981 for the Communicator calling himself a radical I wanted to set him straight but so far I have failed. As Administration knows, he is stubborn as a terrier and impossible to budge when he digs in. He still annoys me but like Sheila I grit my teeth and remember the other stuff he has done and give him a pass.

I knew him pre-Sheila when he owned two pair of pants and lived in an apartment that was half full of bales of old newspapers which were the nicest pieces of furniture he owned. I remember visiting him at the old Cypress Park Library on Pepper Street where I would show up after visiting King Taco reeking of carnitas and cilantro. I also dropped into the Memorial Branch a time or two and followed him to Fairfax where I heard “Roy…there’s a call for you!” so many times I can’t even exaggerate it. Once upon a time I allowed him to talk me into being a Steward for the Guild which lasted as long as it took me to realize that meant E-Board meetings until 11 pm.  I used to go to Guild meetings just to visit with Roy and was a part of the Communicator staff for seventy-some articles and numerous cartoons which we put together in happy hard-copy paste-up meetings around LA. We argued while Sheila put the magazine together.  I have a cassette from my answering machine of the congratulations given the day my now 33 year old daughter was born and the third voice on the tape is Roy Stone. He heroically took that same baby from my arms when she was made demonic by colic as an infant and allowed me to avoid a long prison sentence.   When the fire tore a piece of my heart out it was Roy and I who climbed into the inky fiction stacks to get an idea of how great the tragedy was first-hand. He has seen me cry and never judged.  When Wyman Jones retired Roy and I set out to make a film, a roast kind of documentary when we had no idea how to create anything on videotape. It was the closest I ever came to murdering anyone or being murdered but the film got made and Wyman loved it.  Probably half of the good things I have done for LAPL were motivated by his kvetching at me to do them and whenever I felt like quitting it was Roy and Sheila who pulled me back from the precipice. He really has infinite patience for what he believes in and has the tenacity of a hungry cat at 4 am in your bedroom.  It was Roy who gently let me know one of our dearest friends had lost her fight against cancer and when I gave my Mom’s eulogy I looked out into the church and saw his face.  For THIRTY years Roy has joined me for a Christmas dinner at my house despite the fact he is still waiting for the messiah and he was my most valuable friend when I passed through some very dark times in 2015. Over a very long haul he has been a constant positive force in my family’s life except for the way he behaves in the kitchen at my dinners. If you are not part of the solution you are part of the fucking problem Roy!

     For the sake of brevity (never my strong suit) I can’t list everything Roy has done in my interest despite my rough edges but I never scared him or discouraged him because he knows we both love the library which bonds us like super glue. There is genuine blood, sweat and tears shared in the last four decades. The things we all take for granted were not easily won and the dedication and resolve of these Guild heroes are worth far more than any ALA or CLA or SLA or the NRA. This mild mannered man does not shrink from challenges and has an optimism and compassion for patrons and staff that borders on crazy. We were there for the LAPL 12 and the Dirty 30 and literally a hundred clueless City Council people who had to be educated and convinced of our worth to the community. We even cut down a rubber tree together, fixed my rain gutters, painted his porch and produced the one and only X-Communicator that pissed off half the membership. We have written letters to the editor, gave radio interviews, attended Board of Library Commissioners meetings, held up Yes on L signs and talked about LAPL administration for more hours than there are stars in the sky but today it doesn’t seem like it was enough. I can honestly say that despite the photographic evidence of me trying to kill Roy I believe he has been the best we had to offer at LAPL in my time here. He still annoys me but I love the old bastard.