All his life, Roland had heard the song he was named after.
Warren Zevon was his parents’ favorite musician.
For years, Roland thought he was born to be a Thompson gunner, and to run around in various exotic locations as a mercenary.
It was a cool occupation to think about, but not always a great one to share at school.
The poor kid was often sent to local psychiatrists to make sure his head was on straight.
Oh, it was!
He graduated high school with a 3.75gpa, and immediately signed up to join the U.S. Army.
He wanted to be a ranger.
And that’s how he started his tales, down in the pub.
He brought down the house on open mic nights, spinning stories and humorous anecdotes.
Roland wasn’t only a Thompson gunner.
He was a weaver of stories, told to a lost generation.