Looking Back

By Michael Reisman

Those fond memories of either yesterday or many years ago always remain with us. It is with great pleasure that I take you on this magical journey back in time. Sit back, relax, and smile and relive these events of looking back...

This book is dedicated to my dear friend Lino, who happens to run the best Deli in Eastchester, N.Y.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 22, 2011
• ISBN: 9781450296441

Michael Reisman

I have been writing since I was thirteen years old. My teachers in school through the years suggested that I pursue this talent. It is my sensitivity to nature and life’s situations that drives me to tell it as it is. I was raised in Brooklyn, New York and moved to the Bronx. Now I live in Westchester, New York. With soft music or in plain old-fashioned silence, one can be inspired to write. It is my goal to make one think and feel and wonder through my writings. As long as my heart beats, my mind creates; the pen shall never run out of ink.

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Copyright © 2011 by Michael Reisman

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4502-9643-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-9644-1 (ebk)

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse rev. date: 02/11/2011

Contents

The Loft…

Western Style…

Welcome Back…a poem

My Buddy Damien…

The Weenie Roast…

The Summer Of 1969…

The Sweetest Thing…

Never Let Go Again…

Room For One More…

April Fourteenth…

A Civil Matter…

The Same Tears…a poem

A Set Of Swings…

A Second Choice…

Waiting In The Wings…

History Lesson…

Closer To The Table…

A Deck Of 51…

Looking Back Has Its Rewards…

A Choice Of Tulips…

Are One And The Same…

Your Mountain…a poem

Old Toys…

Waterfalls…

A Sense Of Nature…a poem

Rear View Mirror…

Lady Blue…

The Sandbox…

Looking Back…a poem

307…

Checkerboard…

My Special Neighbor…

Cardboard Box…

The Three J’s…

Boat Boy…

Aquamarine Blue…

To The Left…

A Red Balloon For Sara…

Halloween Chalk…

The Golden Dinner Bell…

The Umbrella Incident…

The Last Pay Phone…

Manhattan Clam Chowder…

Track 17…

Teddy…

Saturday Morning Cartoons…

Three Day Stay…

Guarding The Entrance…

Beyond Reality…

The Same Dream…a poem

The Blender…

Once Again…

Four Part Harmony…

No Words Needed…a poem

A Title Change…

Not A Cloud In The Sky…

For All Seasons…a poem

Flashlights Under The Covers…

The Little Things…

The Blue Star Sapphire…

A Red Apron And Chicken Noodle Soup…

A Whispering Sea Shell…

Coffee And A Bagel With Cream Cheese…

Paw Prints…

Coat Check Number 42…

A Blue Shirt And A Red Tie…

Back To Black And White…

Two Thumbs Up…

One Sunday In Brooklyn…

Randy…

On The Wings Of A Smile…a poem

The Simple Farm Life…

A Halloween Story…

Sunday’s Playground…

An Artificial Fireplace…

Spin The Bottle…

A Turkey For Theresa…

Jukebox Saturday Night…

At Least Over A Thousand…

A Familiar Face…

The Girl Next Door…

An Xmas Story…

Dorothy…

The Sprinkler…

The Words Flow…a poem

Paper Trail…

One New Years Eve…

After Two Rings…

The Rinse Cycle…

A Dinner Bell…

Goodnight Kiss…

Your Hamster, My Parakeet…

Faded But Never Forgotten…

For Old Times’ Sake…

A Thought With Words…a poem

A Tall Glass With Two Straws…

The Shopping Cart…

Goldie…

Coming Into Focus…

Bottle Caps And Baseball Cards…

My Flowers Your Vase…a poem

Leftover Wine…

Where Fiction Is So Very Real…

Remember Those From Before…

Their Time Together…a poem

Macaroni & Cheese…

From Generation To Generation…

Take Two And Call Me In The Morning…

When A Hug Is Exchanged…

Rockefeller Center…

A Little Faith…

Canned Soups Aisle 5…

As The Word Spread…

Echoes Of A Pipe Organ…

A Game Of Stick Ball…

Crispy Spaghetti…

Lost And Found…

The Brown Paper Bag…

Baked Ziti For Bonnie…

She Still Sits On My Lap…

Cheese Doodles And Pistachio Nuts…

A Red Bike For Rodney…

Sleeping With Nature…a poem

The Toy Chest…

As The Church Bell Tolls…

A Stirrer And Two Ice Cubes…

A Song and A Dance…

My Darling Darlene…

A One Word Vocabulary…

The Rocking Chair…

A Thank You Card…

A Second Time Manager…

The Blue Star Sapphire…

When It Rained On Sunday…

Continued In His Footsteps…

A Home By The Roadside…

One Moment In Time…

They Knew Each Word By Heart…

Heaven Scent…

A Bowl Of Chicken Noodle Soup…

Paper Napkins…

Tag You’re It…

The Queen Of Hearts…

A Small Farm In Kentucky…

Oh No, Snow…

Just Like Old Times…

The Loft…

The loft was a space rented by us to practice and record our music. It was a huge room with great acoustics and plenty of outlets for our equipment. Three hours twice a week back in the 1970’s the four of us were there. A place that was remembered dearly even until today in 1996. The band had long since split up and we lost touch with each other, but the music never died. I can remember the exact street it was on and decided to go back there for old time’s sake. My drumsticks sat on the passenger seat next to me as if I was going to another practice and recording session. It sat vacant and desolate, no longer rented or used. A man who was maybe a few years older than me was standing there as he stared at the loft that once was. You know, I used to walk by here and heard some really nice music back in the 1970’s, he said to me. My band used to practice here back then, I replied. The stranger handed me a business card which read talent scout, Atlantic Records LTD. He was retired just like I was but felt he needed to come back. Three former band members honked their horns because they couldn’t believe they saw me there also. I took my drumsticks and proceeded to walk up the once dusty stairs. A stranger from below listened carefully as he followed the steps up to where we were practicing. He took out a business card and identified himself. Would you gentlemen audition for us at Atlantic Records? A contract was signed the following month which of course was dated. 1976 was the year we became famous. Looking back we have a group of musicians, a talent scout, and a record company deal. A road less traveled but often visited where memories may have another chance. Good news eventually from the loft….

Western Style…

Looking back on Dad there were many things to remember about him. One thing in particular however struck a special chord. It was his passion for anything from the old Wild West. I used to sit on his lap and watch his favorite T V cowboy shows which eventually became mine also. My father’s knee would bob up and down as I sat on it until he said ride ‘em cowboy. Of course I would fall off of his knee but always got back on for another ride. The 50’s and 60’s were the best times of our lives together. Shows like Gunsmoke, Cheyenne, Wyatt Earp, Bonanza, and many others always stuck in my mind. Dad passed away when I turned 50 years old, he was somewhere in his eighty’s. My cowboy hat that was saved from many years before was placed on top of the grave where he now rested. On the cable box I ran across a channel which played old shows from many years ago. It was western style week that caught my attention. Twelve hours of black and white classics from shows I used to watch. A bag of popcorn sat on my lap similar to the one I used to eat. An old favorite episode came on but the ending was very different. The actor sat in front of a campfire and looked back at me from the T V screen. It was dad’s face for sure and he waved at me as the show ended. Maybe that’s where he came from originally and just lived it in death as it was lived in life. I found myself alone sitting on a knee which bobbed up and down as a voice said ride ‘em cowboy. Looking back we have father and son once again together. Love that can only be expressed western style….

Welcome Back…a poem

Imagination takes form from dreams and wishes.

Then we enter the real world and wonder when

It will happen. Maybe a surprise awaits around a corner,

Where it hits us unexpectedly. There you stood before me,

As real as it gets and we smile at each other.

Your imagination and dreams and wishes were the same as mine.

We whispered what was said before and then felt a familiar kiss and hug.

Welcome back my darling!

My Buddy Damien…

They say never mix business with pleasure. It is my opinion that is totally wrong. Let me introduce my buddy Damien, account manager from an advertising agency in a state far away from mine. I found him quite a while ago when my first three published books needed to be advertised. He came up with a 30 second commercial that blew me away. Book sites where people like to read were also included and the responses were amazing. He laid out his own money to advance this campaign as he was impressed by the books I sent him in the mail. We became good friends through a few phone calls and exchanged email. There was a period of time when he was missing and I was concerned about his health and well being. All turned out well shortly afterwards. Another commercial was made on my fourth book A Matter Of Healing as my status and popularity grew among the fans I had received. This is what I remember now looking back at the age of 75. I guess he must have retired also by now. The doorbell rang one early Saturday morning as a stranger and his wife introduced themselves. I autographed whatever books they had as we all sat down at my kitchen table. His wife smiled from a few feet away as we hugged like old buddies often do. We popped open a few beers and talked of old times once again. He inspired me to write once again and I agreed. Old connections still remained and another book was published. It made the best seller list and the title was My Buddy Damien….

The Weenie Roast…

I was just driving along the country road taking in the sights and sounds of its serenity. A familiar hotel with a name long since forgotten caught my eye. It was a place I spent one summer back in the 1950’s. My two months vacation had a place to stay as this unexpected stop had me check in for July and August. A lot of things remained the same even though there were some things that were different. My fifty year old body felt like a fourteen year old kid again as certain memories flooded my mind. Like mom and dad winning at a bingo game and sharing their winnings with me; or an extra serving of fries to go along with a cheeseburger at dinner time. The next late afternoon had me walk to a baseball field where at one time I hit a home run and had our team win. It was just then that I remembered her name. Michelle who sat beside me at a campfire just a 100 yards away where the counselors would set up a campfire for us to sit around. She was a first love where I regretted not asking her for her phone number. Darkness fell and I walked the 100 yards to an old campground. Some twigs surrounded it as I lit the fire and wondered why. She sat next to me as the weenie roast began. We shared the hot dogs and kissed once again as I took out a pen and paper. She gave me a phone number which this time I called. The year didn’t really matter nor the age that this incident had happened. All I can say is that there was an outdoor wedding at a place we had both been to before. Most of the guests sat around a campfire and fed each other from twigs that have been there before. A wonderful time we all shared together at the weenie roast….

The Summer Of 1969…

The summer of 1969 was a summer to remember. There was a huge concert event on a farm called Woodstock. There was the best talent ever assembled in one place at the same time. Only one bad memory of that event stuck in my mind. It was the sound of a siren from an ambulance that