by Kevin Tiernan

Created on: July 03, 2009   Last Updated: July 04, 2009

REVISIONS

As the old man sat there, he pondered how things would have went if he hadn't left New York. He gently pushed the drapes aside and fixed his gaze to the street outside. He saw The Jacobsens walking from their mini- van, the two younger boys clinging to their mother's side.

Oh, how he regreted the way he had lived.

Mr. Jacobsen caught the old man's gaze, and quickly rushed his children through the door way. Sighing, the old man retreating to his sofa, where he picked up a large photo album, titled "Rusty's Photos". Dusting the cover, Rusty's fingers met the inside of the cover, which he lifted with a large huff. Rusty didn't have many pictures to remember his childhood. In fact, he barely had any. The only few he had in his possession were very old photographs of himself and a beautiful girl. One coming across this picture would never have guessed the youthful young man in the foreground to be grumpy old Rusty. In his nineties, Rusty didn't have any relatives or friends. He lived alone in a small apartment on the corner of East Ave. and Cromwell St. , room 226. His neighbors stayed away, and the doorman never seemed to greet him upon his entry to the building. Rusty could have sworn he heard the doorman whisper to his co-worker, "what an old bag".

However, whenever Rusty saw the picture of himself and this woman, he felt like himself again. At the same time, this made him curse his decisions even more. With a flick of his wrist, the old man shut the phot album and crossed the room to his record collection. As was routine, he removed the album titled, "Lucky Boys". He loved the way it still seemed to smell new to him, sniffing the cover. Yet another part of Rusty's old life.

The Lucky Boys were a chart topper and a local favorite. They would sell out concerts, rivaling acts like Johnny Cash. Rusty could just remember his old Gibson acoustic guitar. The strings had felt so tender! Unfortunately, Rusty was a selfish bitter young man. He let the fame go to his head, and he was fired by band mates. In rage, he smashed his guitar to pieces. This was just one incident in a series of events that made Rusty so bitter living his life. Everything had to go his way, and he loved nothing more than a couple stacks of money on his desk at night. In the 1930's he lost all contact with his family. It had been his fault, and he never came to terms with it until his old age.

But, that was all in the past. Rusty needed to get his head straight, so he reached for

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