In the days and weeks to come, those of us who knew Roger Rodoni personally—and it seemed impossible to know him any other way—will partake in one of the activities he loved best: storytelling.
Almost everyone has a story about Roger, although few people can tell a story the way he could. Many of his tales were improbable accounts involving horses, drinking or guns. And when he managed to combine all three, as he often did, listeners were in for a treat.
It is no secret that we at the Humboldt Mirror loved Roger. We didn’t always agree with him—he the old school Libertarian, we the new age Democrats—and some of the things that popped out of his mouth made us laugh or cringe or both.
But you can imagine that we were delighted to learn, shortly before his death, that our affection for him was reciprocal.
We heard from several people that he read the blog religiously and spent long hours trying to figure out who the rascally bugs might be, and how they got their information.
The answer to both questions, he announced one day, was contained in our names.
“Mirrors,” he said. “And bugs. Get it?”
He gestured around the office and lowered his voice to a whisper.
“They’re in here. With us.”
Sometimes, for effect, he would pretend to examine the underside of his desk for listening devices before discussing particularly sensitive county matters.
It is not known whether his espionage theory was improved any before he died—nor will we ever know if he intended to follow through on his stated intent to make Humboldt Mirror lapel pins to wear to Board of Supervisors meetings.
That would’ve made for a good story, and we would love to have heard Roger tell it.
We’ll leave this thread open for any Rodoni stories you may have. Bonus points accrue for every horse, gun and bottle of whiskey you throw into the mix.