Before Rock My World

I hope the last two weeks have been good to you all!

Writing my memoir and not being a writer was one hell of a mountain to climb. I'd just sold my business and had time on my hands, so I decided to take on a project. Rather than jumping right into my memoir, I thought I would try to write a short story that was true and had taken place in my childhood. The first thing that came to mind was something that happened when I was a little boy growing up in Newark, New Jersey. It occurred about a year before my family moved to Livingston, New Jersey where they still live today. A quick note, a close friend of mine who writes for a living gave me one piece of advice on a great writing technique, which was, write the way you speak. I started writing and after a few minutes I found a groove and kept typing till the next thing I knew I was finished telling my little story. This gave me the incentive to say to myself now repeat this formula, only on a grand scale and that was how I began writing Rock My World. Now, I'd like to share the first piece I ever wrote, called the Power of Ice Cream, I hope you enjoy it!

                                       

                                     THE POWER OF ICE CREAM

  Nineteen sixty four, Ivy Hill Park, good old Newark, New Jersey!

 As I'm walking towards the park, I'm thinking what a perfect summer day to go play. The sun is out. Sky's bright blue and filled with giant white puffy clouds. A warm summer breeze is rustling through the green leaves of the tall oak trees that line the sidewalk. It's a perfect day to be outside and have fun!

 I enter the park through its tall wrought iron, arched gates and ponder; maybe I'll go by the sprinkler pool and see who's there. Then, I'll go play over by the big wooden fort. Mom gave me twenty five cents for ice cream, man I can't wait to hear the sound of the ice cream truck ringing its bells!

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a crowd of kids gathering around the fort, which, I immediately decide to head towards. I approach, inching closer and closer through the tight knit crowd to the center of all the interest. In the center circle stood one young enterprising lad offering hand craved tattoos for a fee. His tool of choice for administering the tattoo was a brand new Shell gasoline giveaway, an eight inch long white plastic pearl handled steak knife. Its stainless steel serrated blade gleamed in the rays of the sun.

This knife wielding sinister faced kid with his summer crew cut was a sight to behold!

For a quarter, he was offering a custom tattoo with your initials, or a really big star, cut anywhere you wanted. He was working the crowd like a barker at a carnival.

 Man this kid was calling all of us younger kids little baby's for not stepping forward to get sliced. The twelve year old had two buddies with him, both bragging and showing off their new body art. They were badgering the crowd repeating, "It's not going to hurt and the tattoo will look really cool!"

Then to my amazement, one really gullible 8 year old hands over two dimes and a nickel to the twelve year old for a tattoo. Instantly, his two friends grab the kid and hold his arm. The twelve year olds face grew flush with excitement as he went to work on the recipients arm.

From my point of view, the inner circle looked like demons at work.

 First cut, no real blood, just a trickle and the 8 year old kept his cool. Next slice, not so lucky, it got gory. But, that didn't stop the twelve year old from finishing the first initial.

Now this kid whose arm was being held by the two really nasty looking cross eyed Chinese brothers starts to panic and begins to flail about. The goofier of the two brothers snidely says, "Stand still, you're not going anywhere!" These two slant eyed brothers were howling in some sick demon like trance during the entire ordeal. Meanwhile, the knife wielding twelve year old finished cutting initials in this terrified 8 year old kid as the entire crowd looked on in wide eyed silence.

The sudden sound of jingling bells in the distance broke the spell of evil that hummed around the fort. The crying 8 year old with his arm still being held by one of the brothers, finally dared to look down at his shiny crimson tattoo that bore the letters RT. Believe it or not, despite the one deep slice, steak knife boy did a fine carving job! The whole time the twelve year old was performing his skills, he hadn't spoken a word. He now asked the other crossed eyed brother to get him an ice cream from the arriving Good Humor truck. The rest of the crowd started disappearing from the fort area and were darting towards the sound of the bells. What kid doesn't love ice cream, coming from the Good Humor truck?

In a devilish voice, with a wicked grin on his face, the twelve year old says to the still sobbing 8 year old who had wrapped his white tee shirt around his forearm, "Thanks for the twenty five cents; I really wanted ice cream in the worst way!"

Next entry in my blog will strictly be on Rock My World, talk with you in two weeks time!

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 I'm thrilled & proud to announce that the The Golden Notebook Bookstore| 29 Tinker Street | Woodstock, NY 12498 | 845-679-8000 is now selling the paperback version of my book ROCK MY WORLD