THE LATEST BOOK BY THE ARTIST / AUTHOR
You Can Survive and Live a Useful Life,
Heart Disease, Cancer, Pemphigoid and a Shotgun
AUTHOR'S Comments: To all who suffer daily under the burden of illnesses that fill the world my deepest wish is that this story gives them renewed determination and strength to endure and fight on and that those within whom hope is failing or nearly lost that each day may be at least a tiny bit better than the last so that hope for complete relief becomes a bit stronger every day.
COMMENTS by Doctors, Nurses, and the News:
"Edward R. Rogaishio is, at once, a classic townie and a local version of a Renaissance man." By Chris Bergeron/Reporter/DAILY NEWS STAFF
"Quite impressive!" "Maybe writing this memoir can be an inspiration for future heart surgery patients." Kamal R. Khabbaz, M.D., Cardiac Surgeon, Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center
"You're wondering how you could possibly have survived... having endured so many life threatening medical episodes." "Instead of inviting pity you share your experiences with clarity and humor in hopes of making others less fearful. To that I say, bravo!" Linda J. Dixon, Secretary of the Corporation (Retired) Tufts University
"I am sure many people will ... gain immensely from your reflection and philosophizing." "You have made a terrific contribution to the local culture and history." Magruder Craig Donaldson, M.D., Vascular & Endovascular Surgery
SIX additional PLUS Full Commentaries inside the Book.
This Book is available through:
Amazon.com, , Barnesandnobel.com, exlibris.com, and others.
MIDNIGHT to INFINITY
The Humor and History of a Mischievous Artist
A Bio filled with
Hilarious Humor, Awesome Adventure,
Heart-Rending Tragedy, Spirituality, and Love
A Unique and Rich
Amalgam of Short Stories, Poems, Narratives and Anecdotes
That Will Touch Your Every Emotion from laughter to Tears!
A Diamond Mine Filled with Gems for Every Reader!
New Book in 324 pages by Edward R. Rogaishio
Includes Photos back to the turn of the Century.
Copyright © Library of Congress 2009
*** Celebrity, Reader and Review comments have been extremely positive. ***
Some comments received to date!
"A Masterpiece", "Illuminating and uplifting", "Epic Quality Poetry", "Heart-felt Stories", "A Unique Book" "Awesome", "Incredible", "Must Read", "Eloquent", "Hilarious", "Devilish Humor", "Inspiring", "Poignant",
"Whimsical", "Witty", "Wise", "Powerful Prose", "Art of the Storyteller" "Bravo!"
Millennial Mind Publishing
Book Publishing has placed this book in its category of 'Millennial Mind
because this book introduces fresh views about the people, phenomena, and issues that shape our lives today--
from political, philosophical and human-interest perspectives. It considers the entire spectrum from
provocative to traditional in books about government, spirituality, and cultures.
notes 'Bedside Books' on the spine because this book breaks away from
typical assembly line of predictable fare by presenting superior original contemporary work
in a variety of genres.
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In this Book
REVIEW by Pacific Book Review
Grayscale & Color Pictures
Table of Contents
About the Author
A Few Notes
In this Book
An Eclectic Collection of
All Things Written.
Midnight to Infinity offers an eclectic collection of all things written. Readers may cry,
laugh, and experience every emotion between the two. Both fictional and not, this funny,
old artist's short stories and poems are both intellectually stimulating and wildly hilarious.
A good time is had by all who open the pages of this book and get lost in Rogaishio's mind.
The book runs a gamut from the escapades of an adventurous young ‘scamp’ to the final story of the roots of his family.
Napoleon's Murderous Invasion of Russia
1812 roots that barely survived Napoleon’s murderous invasion of Russia through Lithuania when the few shocked and bloodied serf survivors managed to flee into the forests to live on as little as tree bark.
Adventure in Russia
You will adventure with the author in the Lomonosov, St. Petersburg area of Russia.
Firefighting, Tragedies and
As you work with him through his thirty one years as a firefighter, you will experience the depths of tragedy in the loss of a comrade and the heart wrenching losses of young children. You will battle black darkness and icy cold in an attempt to rescue a child lost in deep woods.
You will visit with a specter from the past.
And live in the innocence, fears and poignant heart of a young boy.
Total Nonsense and Hilarity
You will ride the waves of total nonsense and hilarity in a poem wherein the unfortunate hero
misadventures across the continents, even below them and up through the very stars.
Peace and Introspection
And you will find peace and deep introspection of your own life.
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The following Commentaries from a number of Celebrities have been received:
"Without a doubt - 'God created the Heavens and the Earth'... But
after reading this
awesome book, 'Midnight to Infinity', I'm convinced that Edward Rogaishio was undoubtedly
the Lord's third creation!
From his first sentence, 'Who am I?' we are transported into Ed's amazing world of both despair
and triumph! An incredible story chronicling a journey that few ever travel - inviting us to experience his sorrows & joys;
delighting and inspiring us with his poignant poetry and prose and uncanny, devilish
sense of humor -
A must read for all!"
Rhonda Fleming, Movie & Television Star, 'Queen of Technicolor'
Star on Hollywood Walk of Fame
"Delightful from beginning to end. Ed Rogaishio’s writing shows a kind heart,
and a gentle and witty spirit. He quickly connects with the reader so that they
sense his warmth and feel that they are lucky to know him. His humorous
anecdotes and wildly clever poetry are presented in a Thurber-ish style that
will strike a chord with like minds and kindred spirits. No one who has lived
life and learned to laugh out loud will put this book down without being sad to
have come to its end."
Marie Thomas, Science Writer/Photographer
Editor of Suburban Howls (c 2007) by Dr. Jonathan Way,
Eastern Coyote Research, Barnstable, MA
“Edward Rogaishio has written a warm-hearted, charming, funny book that rewards the reader beyond all expectation”
Janet Guthrie, NASCAR driver, First
woman to race in Indy & Daytona 500’s,
International Women’s Sports Hall of Fame, International Motor Sports Hall of Fame
“Midnight to Infinity is the life story of a New England boy, almost
priest, told in a unique style of openly emotional and loving prose and poetry.
Snippets throughout weave his life experiences of career, play, family and
history together. He has observed the complications of his life experiences and
their impact on his life and everyone and everything around him. He has and
continues to enjoy life with all its idiosyncrasies.”
Peter Gouveia, Scientist, worked at NASA helping to land a man on the moon, knew the astronauts personally, and with others,
worked with world renowned German scientist Werner Von Braun, developer of the Saturn V Moon Rocket
“Ed Rogaishio has done what many of us wish we had done: looked back on his life and captured the memories, stories and moments that mattered. Ed blends anecdotes, poems, essays and short fiction with wit, wisdom and the art of a story teller. As he describes the life of the Russian people during a memorable visit, his harrowing life as a firefighter, and his mother’s courage in escaping Czarist Lithuania to travel across Europe to America as a young girl, Ed’s simple yet powerful prose grips the reader’s emotions and creates a shared experience.”
Linda J. Dixon, Secretary of the
Corporation, Tufts University,
A Premier Leadership Training and World-class Research School.
Lieut. Colonel (Ret), Massachusetts Army National Guard.
“Here is a funny, down-to-earth memoir that’s loaded with photos, stories and poetry. Rogaishio takes the reader on a fascinating journey through different times, cultures and topics- from his ancestors caught in the horrors of the Napoleonic Wars, to the many facets, interests and adventures of his own life, to a hilarious, feel-good chapter called “Cow Stories”, the interaction with dear neighbors that was the inspiration for this book. Truly an eloquent and engaging testimony to the power of story telling.”
Elena Lapitsky, Russian Language and
Boston College. Ms Lapitsky, born in Latvia, came to the States,
is presently a translator and teaches at Boston College.
“I was enchanted by this book. Mr. Rogaishio’s writing is whimsical, witty and wise. He has seen life’s darker side; but it never overshadows his basic optimism, reflected in anecdotes, short stories, and poetry. His is a heart that hears the music of life and transcribes it for the rest of us.”
International Concert Pianist. While in Russia
she was a Panelist judging a competition of young musicians
from all over Russia.
** Copies of the book galleys for review and comments have been requested also, by:
Wilford Brimley, American Actor,
spokesperson for the fight against Diabetes via Liberty Medical
Raymond Berry, Player Baltimore Colts; Head Coach NE Patriots 1984-5, Football Hall of Fame;
Robert Loggia, Leading man, Character Actor, Stage & Screen Star.
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Because of printing restraints, the number of pictures, in
grayscale, allowed to be placed
in the book was of necessity, restricted. Those most important to stories were included.
Above is one of them. However, since there is plenty of room in this web site,
These additional photos have been made available to all only here!
The Additional Pictures that could not be placed in the book.
Not necessarily in order.
Baby Edward, age c.2 Mother, Mary Stalilonis Grandmother, Lucy Kasper
Father, Dja Dja, Walter Kardis Helen, Eddie, age 5,
Peter Paul Rogaishio & Mamie
Mother at her brother The sad letter from home.
The Haunted House! Ed's sea -going punt.
The 1994 Russian Story Photos
The Chinese Palace, Lomonosov
Church of Our Saviour Gateway to the Peter Paul Fortress
on the Spilled Blood
The Monument to the Breaking of the Fountains at Peter the Great's Grand Palace
Siege, St. Petersburg, Russia
Vladimir Slepukhin and Tatiana Proshkina,
journalist, at his studio.
Edward receiving the 16th century Illuminated
Codex, the Tale of the Battle of the Kulikovo Field,
at the Artists' Reception.
Farewell Reception for the FLAME Delegates
Marina Akhromova, Kalinka President
Left front in red
from Nothing But Cow Stories
'The Milkman' Bud Moran Ellen & Bud
Scene that inspired the poem, "Respite"
The Mill Pond. Scene of the poem, "Reflections"
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TABLE Of CONTENTS
SCAMP TO GRAMPS
Salt Water Succulence
SPLASHES OF PAINT
One Lost, One Found
Ode to a Recalcitrant Computer
Well, Well, Well
AN INTERNATIONAL FLAME
Music Is Everywhere
A Russian Adventure
Reminiscences and Days After
COW-A-BUNGA HAS NOTHING ON US—NOTHING BUT
From the Red Barn
To The Rescue
How Now Wonderful Cow
Thank You Once Again
A Christmas Jingle
To the Milkman
The News, Oh, The News
To Farmer Ed
Essence of a Nocturne
In the Blackness of Night
The Light Under the Door
Why Aren’t They Moving?
TOTALLY FREE WHEELING
Nonsense: The Misadventures of Pat Bauer
AT PEACE WITH THE WORLD
ROOTS IN AN OLD WORLD
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The author, born July 15, 1931, in Framingham, Massachusetts, lived
several years as a child in Worcester and was schooled his first two years
in St. Anthony School. Then moving back to Framingham, he was
enrolled in St. Stephen School through the Ninth Grade when he
became Class President, and also, received the American Legion
School Award of Distinguished Achievement. Graduating he
received a scholarship to Sacred Heart High in Newton.
After high school his next four years were spent in Maryknoll,
the Catholic Foreign Mission Society of America where he received
his BA in Philosophy which colors all his works and thinking. Though he has a happy
and silly off-the-wall side, many of his pieces are metaphysical,
deeply introspective and carry into the afterlife.
Years later while working in the Framingham Fire Department,
he went to night school at Quinsigamond Community College in
Worcester where he received his Associate Degree in Fire Science
with Highest Honors.
Writing, especially descriptive, letters, and hard-hitting papers,
was something at which he excelled and these were challenges he
always enjoyed. While in the Fire Department where he eventually
rose to the rank of Deputy Fire Chief, he became heavily involved
with the Firefighters Union and originated and was the Editor of
the Union Post, the firefighters’ newsletter.
Being basically a shy person, in 1972 he joined Mensa, and this gave
him the badly needed self-confidence to stand up to any person in
any situation. He held many positions through his career with the
department: Secretary of the Union, Chief Bargaining Agent for the
Union, Spokesman for the five Town employee groups, and the All
Unions Representative to the town Special Committee on Collective
Bargaining all of which demanded a great deal of writing of
information, contract and research papers.
His doggedness to learn everything possible so as to do the best
possible work and attain the best possible results, led him into being
elected a Town Meeting Member and an appointment as a
member of the Standing Committee on Personnel. His hard work
and knowledgeable efforts won him an appointment to the Town
Finance Committee, FinCom, the only working town employee
ever to hold this position. As a member of FinCom, he was
appointed Subcommittee Chairman of all the Town Social Service
groups and Departments.
Retiring from the Fire Department after thirty-one years of service,
he joined the Framingham Artists’ Guild, became an
accomplished artist, served as President for nine and one half years and
was Editor of the Guild’s newsletter for some twelve years. Also,
he became a vice-President of the Framingham, Massachusetts
Sister Cities group FLAME (Framingham Lomonosov Association
for Mutual Exchange) paired with Lomonosov, Russia. He is the
Resident Artist and Editor of FLAME’s biennial newsletter.
Through contact via FLAME, and as President of the Guild at the
time, he chaired an Art Cultural Exchange project between the
Guild and the Lomonosov, Russian artist group, Kolorit. As Trip
Master and artist, he with other artists, exhibited art works in the
Japanese Pavilion of Prince Menchikov’s Palace, a favorite of
Peter the Great, in Lomonosov, Russia in 1996.
Currently he is enjoying retirement, his family, grandchildren,
writing new stories and creating new art in several genres.
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FREE EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK!
Too often youngsters wander off
along streams or ponds and are never seen again
or into wooded areas and never find their way back.
I have personally helped to search rivers and ponds only to eventually find a young body without life.
The life of a lost one may hang by a very precarious thread that becomes a massive challenge for the
would be rescuer not to break.
THE SHORT STORY ---
Essence of a Nocturne
From behind a clump of shadowy trees, a hazy light, swinging, probing, made its way over to him. It was fastened to the end of a long sleeve that led to a ghostlike, glistening, wet yellow and black raincoat. When it stopped before Marcus, the raincoat revealed itself to be draped over a real humanoid being.
“Hi yourself,” greeted Marcus squinting at the view. “Find anything yet?”
“Not a thing, my friend. These bushes are so thick and it‘s getting so dark. With this fog, you can‘t see a hand in front of your face.”
“Yeah, it‘s pretty miserable out here all right. That poor little devil, I hope he found a hole or somethin‘ to crawl into. How long has he been missing now? I feel like I‘ve been walking all night. Boy, are my feet gettin‘ cold.”The voice from the raincoat came from a middle-aged, a bit pot-bellied man about Marcus‘s size and age. He was heavily swathed in sweaters, hats, and who knows what else, puffing clouds of breath like an old steam engine chugging with all its might.
Marcus grinned to himself as he thought that the man‘s shape even had a bit of a pufferbelly steam engine look to it. Okay. Enough. Be charitable. The guy’s got a lot of guts wandering around out here. I’m getting to be as bad as my kids. “Four hours or so, I guess. Maybe evening? Late afternoon?” Marcus shrugged his shoulders to bury his chin deeper into his jacket collar and shifted from one cold foot to the other. One pair of wool socks definitely was not enough. “The temp‘s still above freezing, but it‘s unbelievably raw. He‘s gonna be frozen solid if we don‘t find him pretty soon.”
Marcus wore a nylon-covered hat of wool and fake fur pulled down deeply over his ears, a more than damp blue and yellow jacket, sweater, and short black boots that crunched on frosty, dead ground and shushed over soggy snow. He wore jeans but no long johns and that had been a mistake.
A late winter thaw with its sunny, bright warming days lacking snow and hoary ice was a fine respite, but to be slogging through the woods in a moonless black night with half melted snow pouring cold up from below and thick damp fog burying him with its raw mist from above, and air that did not know whether to freeze or melt was quite another story.
Thoughts of his warm, comfortable home with its radiators sizzling danced in his head as he moved on in this wet yet frozen Hades. “Don‘t know about you, but I could use a good shot of something hot.”
“Yeah. Me too,” agreed the stranger while swinging his arms and making little hops.
They both looked up. Was it snowing? More misery. Maybe drizzling? “Say, you don‘t suppose that kid got out of here, and right now he‘s in a nice warm bed?” the stranger inquired.
“No, I don‘t think so,” said Marcus, his brow furrowing. “If he‘d been found, they would have shot off a flare to let us know.”
“Yeah, you‘re right. But I‘ll bet some of these guys out here are lost themselves already and don‘t know it.”
“No sweat, we‘re not lost. None of us will disappear.” Marcus tried to reassure him. “With all the people in here all you have to do is keep walking. You‘ll bump into someone. You bumped into me, right?”
“Don‘t know. We‘re on the end of the search line, and there‘s no one else out to that side.” He pointed in the wrong direction. Marcus just smiled. The stranger kept on talking. “I‘ll still bet someone gets lost in here before the night‘s out.”
Little did he or Marcus realize just how prophetic those words would be. They continued searching, Marcus leading, poking his light this way and that while the stranger stayed close by adding the brightness of his light. Fog surrounded them in a shivery shroud—something they could do without. Fog has the unpleasant property of absorbing and scattering light through its billions of floating minute water particles thus preventing any great depth of vision through it. It forced the pair to continually stop to poke around in every overgrown bush and shrub before they could be sure they had seen all parts of it before continuing into the night. Without realizing it, they both had wandered away from the end of the search line.
“Did you know the kid?” asked Marcus as he probed gently through a large mound of leaves and snow.
“He lives a couple streets over, so I wouldn‘t know him if I saw him. I figure though, I should come out and help. Hate to see my own kid lost. Even though a kid‘s not your own, you can‘t treat them differently. I hear no one missed him till it got dark. By that time, he could have been gone for hours or even kidnapped! Anyone think of that?”
Poor guy’s getting pretty cold and nervous by the minute, thought Marcus. “He wasn‘t gone that long,” he said, “and they missed him for about fifteen minutes when he was not seen in the park. They looked for him themselves for maybe less than a half hour before they really got scared and called the police and fire departments. The call for volunteers went out right after that. You know how little kids are. One minute they‘re here, and the next one they‘re not. In just a blink of an eye, away they go! I‘ve got a couple kids myself. You think they‘re in the backyard when actually they‘re playing with the kids down the block.”
“How old they say this kid is?” asked the stranger.
“Four or so, someone said, and a bit small for his age. You‘d be surprised how little space they take when they scrunch up into a ball. To find them is really, really hard. We could walk right by him and never know, even poking around like we‘re doing.” Marcus continued, “Light hair, blue eyes, wearing a dark brown jacket, blue shirt, jeans, and red boots with Mickey Mouse on them—tough colors to see at night. Oh, and a red hat. Wish he had been wearing something brighter. Today being so nice it brought him and his sister out to play on a swing. He probably started chasing chipmunks or squirrels then lost his way and he was gone before his sister missed him. She did a lot of looking. Then she finally panicked and went running to her folks. It wasn‘t long before the panic button was slammed by them too. Patrick Arthur Stewart had fun wandering around, but time and the sun fly and so does the day. No telling where he might go, and he probably got scared stiff when the dark set in. Being lost at night isn‘t the greatest thing for a little kid. I just hope he isn‘t hurt. Bad enough being cold and scared and trying to keep warm in all this slushy mess.”
The stranger started to speak when his foot caught on a low clump of juniper and he noisily plunged forward into thick brush sending a shower of tiny cold sparkling droplets over them both. Startled, Marcus gasped and jerked away as the frigid beads splashed his face and neck. “Holy jezebels!” he exclaimed. But of whatever else nearly said, he became mute. Any further possible words were lost in the sounds of thrashing branches and snapping twigs. Wiping water from his face with his free hand, he turned his light on the still stumbling form. “What happened? You okay?” Wet snow covered him like a friend of Jack Frost. Marcus tried to lend the other a helping hand, but the still whipping branches held him at bay.
“Oww, my. . .oww! These crazy-branched wild trees! Ah, my face. I think I broke my finger!” the stranger spoke with a strain of pain in his voice. Finally he regained his balance and disentangled himself from the clutching shrub fingers. “Oww. These little lights that they give you to hike with—you‘d think they would light up the whole woods so you wouldn‘t go around breaking your neck. Ah.” He tried to juggle his light and bring sore knuckles up to his mouth while he gingerly examined thin welts on his cheek with the other mittened hand.
Marcus spoke with concern. “Looks like you‘ll have a sore cheek for a while, but this cold air will help keep any swelling down. Why don‘t you pack a little snow on it? Good as an ice cube. If it hurts too much, go back and have someone take a look at it, and your eye too. Have a cup of hot java, and rest up in style. After you‘ve had a chance to relax and feel better, you can come back in and give it hell. See that glow on the horizon?” The stranger followed Marcus‘s finger craning his neck to see through darkness and brush. “That‘s your way,” Marcus guided him.
“You really think so?” he asked in a mournful tone, but a grin rapidly spreading across his face told another story.
With a firm grip on the man‘s shoulder, Marcus gently pushed him in the proper direction. “Just keep looking for the glow. Be careful, and you‘ll make it.”
The stranger needed no more convincing. With a half wave of his beam and mumbling something about “seeing you later,” he disappeared into the blackness.
Marcus sighed. Good thing he found me and good to have all the help we can, but those volunteering for the first time should be cautioned more strongly about drifting away from their team.
Back to the cold, wearing job at hand. Back to lonely wander-ings in pursuit of a seemingly futile and chimerical end. Marcus unfortunately, gave no thought to where the next man in the line was supposed to be and drifted further in the wrong direction. A half hour dragged by broken only by sharp lashes across cheeks and gloved hands. He was collecting his own set of battle scars. I’ve had it! Marcus suddenly turned and headed back. Got to get warm or they’ll find me crawled into a hole just waving my hand. Baby! Could I go for a cup of coffee laced with something strong enough to light up my hair! He fought back a persistent shiver and tried to think only of heat, a soft chair, a cup full of hot buttered rum with a tall cinnamon stick stirrer, the aroma tickling his nose, the warm liquid sliding over his tongue with all the wet and cold dampness erased. Ah. Home sweet home. His slippered feet warm, comfortable on a hassock, the boys long ago gone to bed, his beautiful wife hugging him, and smother-ing him with kisses and never again allowing him to roam.
Marcus, a firefighter veteran of twenty one years had finally gotten into the promotional books. Time to get a job easier for this forty-something-year-old body. He was off duty and in the books today, but when the call for volunteers came, he immediately dropped his studies and came out to help along with his peers.
He thought he was returning correctly through the misty cloak, but in his haste to flee this freezing prison, instead he had moved onto new ground crashing into new brush stingier to yield easy passage than ever. His light flashed past the base of a huge oak. Muttering unkind words against the wet thickness surrounding him, he circled and forced his way through the low but still dense brush.
Have to be a wild rabbit to make it through here. Where the heck is here? He puzzled before realizing he himself was now lost. Oh, beautiful. Smart aleck who knows everything now needs search parties out looking for him. His distant barely glowing beacon has disappeared. Which direction? Which direction? Well, one’s as good as another I suppose. He had played in these woods when he was much younger. He had forgotten how much younger, those years ago. So now, another adventure if I don’t freeze first. What an end for a pro.
He stomped on confident there was a landmark to be found that would point him toward home. And then, like a thunderbolt clearing everything out before it, every thought, word, and image fled his mind leaving it as clear and lucid as a crystal spring, and in its purified midst, an image completely unfettered by any distraction appeared! Red Boots! Two little red boots! An almost subliminal flash in the moving beam of his hurrying yellow-white light!
Where?! Ah, yes. Back there at that oak tree! The oak tree! That oak tree—where? Right behind me, yes? Yeah. Back that way. Marcus quickly started back. But it was not back where he thought as he crashed through the brush. No. Not this way. Over there. Where over there? He went a few more yards and stopped. There’s no tree here. The tree! Where is that tree?! Oh, Lord, don’t tell me I’ve found him only again to lose him?. No. That way. Stop! Come on dumdum, stop all this thrashing around. He’s right here somewhere. Don’t move another step. All right. It was just a few minutes, no more, since I saw him till I turned around. Lord, this has to be the blackest night since your creation. That tree is big. It didn’t just walk away. Okay. This is my base, my center point. What do I have to mark it? Yes, I’ll stand up that long,, dead branch—keep checking back on it and check some more. Good. Got anything to reflect light? My handkerchief. That’s white. He tied it to the branch end that would be the highest. Now let’s see if instead of running around in circles I can walk with some sense. No big trees here so that one has to be a bit further out.
Slowly in a complete circle, Marcus shone his light. He moved out twenty or thirty feet and circled around his base as the hub, searching and constantly checking back on his marker and almost panicked when sight of the marker was briefly lost. He rounded another wider circle. A particularly dark area appeared.
Something is really blotting out the light. Could it be the tree or just another huge shrub? Have to keep myself in a straight line, so I can backtrack if I’m wrong. No more dead branches but plenty of live ones. Break them off. Good trail markers. Easy to spot.
Slowly, he moved breaking branches on every shrub while shining his light into that deep blackness sweating a gnawing fear that he might be wrong. The darkness swallowed his beam like a sucking black hole when his beam was aimed low while the fog threw it back at him when he held the light high. This generated a growing frustration. Bad as being in a smoky fire when you can’t see two inches from the lens.
Then forms. Shapes. A tree. Please make it the right one.
The tree was oak and looked big enough, but there was no hollow and no red boots. Marcus‘s heart sank. Please, it has to be the right one. He pushed his way to the base then slowly made his way around it. His light firmly fastened on the ground level of the trunk.
Two little red boots one higher than the other in a rough looking hollow! Wet blue jeans with one pant leg tucked into its boot and the other crumpled over its boot in a loop. Yes! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! The boots protruded from a large A-shaped crack wide at the bottom then quickly rising to a long narrow slit at the top anchored between the hollow‘s edge and gigantic root. It probably had been blasted open by a lightning strike some years ago and now its inside had turned punky from insect borings and weather. Little wonder the searchers had trouble finding him, especially if they went by the tree on the wrong side. Scarcely daring to believe his eyes, Marcus shone his light into the cavity‘s bottom. He feared that what he had found, like a ghostly illusion would shimmer and melt away.
It was the little boy.
New chilling questions arose in Marcus‘s head. Is he all right? Is he alive? Marcus had to kneel with his face close to the ground. He looked upward to see the whole of the child. The tiny lad was scrunched up with knees drawn together and one hand in a pocket. His hat was askew and was covering most of his face. He was leaning on one side of the hollow, his head cushioned on soft, crumbly wood. He looked almost comfortable. This was so wild! The tree was a woodland nest for the small and a refuge for the lost. Gently, worry crowding his eyes, a heavy frown humped on his forehead, Marcus put a hand on the boy‘s knee and gently shook it once, then twice. Brown dusty wood bits flaked off and drifted into his face. Silence. Had the precious child paid the cost?
(The Story Continues ..............)
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Books, 324 pages; Soft Cover
"Midnight to Infinity
the Humor & History of a Mischievous Author"
© Edward R. Rogaishio, Author/Artist
Your Book/s Are Signed and Dated by the Author/Artist!
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Each book is Signed by the Author and may be Personalized, for example,
Please be sure to note this in your order.
Many thanks for your order.
The Author will personally deliver anywhere in the
Framingham, Massachusetts area!
This gives you a rare opportunity to meet the author!
Please note this in your order.
A Few Notes:
he has written many items this is Mr. Rogaishio's first book publication and it
received exceptional Celebrity and Reader acceptance and comments.
We believe that you will find much enjoyment reading his book as well. Because of the unique
Rogaishio has used in writing this volume- in sections filled with
narratives, short stories,
poems, anecdotes and such, everyone finds within the larger overall story, something of special
themselves. It is this that creates a much more personal identification with the
thus a greater enjoyment of the book.
Both before and
after reading this book, many persons have purchased a copy for a friend or
member. Persons have made a point of doing early holiday, birthday or other occasion shopping
and bought a
number of books as presents. We thought it might be a welcome suggestion to
this to your attention.
You may ship books directly to a
person or save by having several shipped to you. To add
something special to each of your gifts we will include two of the author/artist’s- ‘The Ultimate
Greeting/Note Cards’. These are printed with resin inks on archival paper and may be framed
because they are of the same
quality as fine art prints that will last for generations. They are
packaged individually. They may be purchased separately if you wish for the very low price of $2.50
each plus mail cost. Just e-mail the author at firstname.lastname@example.org. The designs are wild and very
colorful. Many have been sold by the author personally and the Cards, plus Books, are available at the
Cape Cod Art Association in Barnstable, Massachusetts. Also, Books are available on the
Publishers Direct Bookstore website, www.pdbookstore.com and over twenty other sites on line,
but this is the only site where you may obtain signed copies.
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MIDNIGHT TO INFINITY
The Humor and History of a Mischievous Artist
Copyright © Edward R. Rogaishio, 2009. All rights reserved. No part of this book may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publisher.
Millennial Mind Publishing
An imprint of American Book Publishing
5442 So. 900 East, #146
Salt Lake City, UT 84117-7204
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper.
Midnight To Infinity: The Humor and History of a Mischievous Artist
Designed by Edward R. Rogaishio and Jana Rade, email@example.com
American Book Publishing relies on the author's integrity of research and
attribution; each statement has not been investigated to determine if it has been accurately made.
The author and publisher specifically disclaim any responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk,
personal or otherwise, which is incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly,
of the use and application of any of the contents of this book. In such situations
where medical, legal, or other professional services may apply, please seek the
advice of such professionals directly.
Rogaishio, Edward R., Midnight To Infinity: The Humor and History of a Mischievous
These books are available at special discounts for bulk purchases. Special editions,
including personalized covers, excerpts of existing books, and corporate imprints,
can be created in large quantities for special needs. For more information
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Short Stories of Outrageous Humor