Journeys Within features an eclectic mix of 30 new short stories. Unexpected events prompt the characters in many of these stories to take a fresh look at their lives and their choices. What they discover sets them on a new path.
A violin virtuoso whose life has been saved by music is called to share his gift with those caught in a civil war. A chance meeting of a retired woman and a young man, both feeling lost, leads them to re-examine their purpose. Nearly killed in a plane crash, a lifelong bully finds himself at the mercy of others.
Some of these stories touch on current issues and events. All are stories for our time.
Journeys Within features an eclectic mix of 30 new short stories. Unexpected events prompt the characters in many of these stories to take a fresh look at their lives and their choices. What they discover sets them on a new path.
A violin virtuoso whose life has been saved by music is called to share his gift with those caught in a civil war. A chance meeting of a retired woman and a young man, both feeling lost, leads them to re-examine their purpose. Nearly killed in a plane crash, a lifelong bully finds himself at the mercy of others.
Some of these stories touch on current issues and events. All are stories for our time.
Growing up near Gaza, Gabe often woke up to explosions and was lulled to sleep by music. The former nearly broke him. The latter surely saved him.
Gabe lived with his parents and two sisters in a small house made of stone. His father worked in the textile business. His family lived modestly. Their house had two bedrooms. Gabe’s parents shared one. His sisters shared the other. Gabe slept on the sofa.
He was a sensitive boy. When bombs rocked his house or gunfire pierced the air, Gabe would crawl into bed with his parents, shaking and crying.
His parents talked about moving. But no place in Israel was free of violence in those days, and they couldn’t afford to move anyway.
Gabe walked to school with his sisters and other kids from the neighborhood. There were no school buses. Parents hoped that, by staying together, their children would somehow be safe walking to and from school.
But the sounds of explosions, even when he was ensconced within the high stone walls of his school, affected Gabe deeply. He couldn’t concentrate. He often cried, though he tried to hide his tears. His grades suffered.
The only thing that calmed him was a sound that began in the early evening nearly every day. It was the sweet, soft, soulful sound of a violin being played by someone near Gabe’s house. Â
Whenever he heard it, Gabe closed his eyes. He was entranced by the music. It carried him away, away from the violence of the day, into the stillness of the night. Only then did he feel at peace. Only then was he unafraid.
“Where is that music coming from?” he asked his mother.
“Oh, that is old Mr. Rueben,” she said. “He does play the violin beautifully, doesn’t he?”
“I’ve never heard anything like it.”
“Would you like to visit him sometime?”
“I’d love that!”
“Well, I’m sure he would too. I’ve known Mr. Rueben for years. He’s a very kind man. Actually, you’ve seen him. He’s a baker. We buy bread in his bakery.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“I’ll see Mr. Rueben in the morning. I’ll ask if we can pay him a visit some evening, so you can listen to him play. Would you like that?”
“I’d love it.”
That night, Gabe fell asleep to the sound of Rueben’s violin. He dreamed of being lifted up by the music, of the music carrying him across the sky. In his dream, he could still hear explosions down below, but they were muted by the dulcet tones of a violin.
Gabe slept soundly that night. In the morning, for the first time in a long time, he woke up feeling happy.
“Well, hello, Mrs. Schwartz,” Rueben said, standing in his doorway, smiling at Gabe’s mother and looking down at the boy holding her hand. “And you must be Gabe.”
Rueben was a small man with an easy smile. His hair was thin and white, his beard neatly trimmed. He wore a loose-fitting white shirt, baggy olive pants and brown sandals. Â
“Good evening, Mr. Rueben,” Gabe’s mother said. “Yes, this is my son, Gabriel. He’s been in your bakery, but I don’t think you two have met. Gabe, this is Mr. Rueben.”
“I’m very pleased to meet you, young man,” Rueben said. “I’ve heard you like violin music.”
“Yes,” Gabe said, feeling nervous.
“Well,” the old man said with a smile, “you’ve come to the right place because it just so happens I play the violin.”
“I know,” Gabe said. “I hear you every evening.”
“You do? Well, would you like to come in and allow me to play something for you?”
“Yes,” Gabe said, looking up at his mother and smiling.
Rueben led them into his spacious living room. The plaster walls were white and adorned with paintings of the sea. A Persian rug covered much of the tiled floor. A plate of cheese, fruit and bread had been set upon a coffee table next to the sofa.
“Please,” he said, “help yourselves. Would you like something to drink? I have juice or, if you like, wine.”
“Some juice would be very nice,” Gabe’s mother said.
“I’ll be right back.”
Gabe sat next to his mother on the sofa. He spotted a black violin case on a wooden bench in the corner. His heart raced. Soon Rueben returned with two glasses of grape juice.
“Thank you, Mr. Rueben,” Gabe’s mother said.
“Thank you,” said Gabe.
“My pleasure. Now, while you enjoy some refreshment, let me play for you.”
Rueben stepped over the to violin case, unlatched it and carefully lifted out a burgundy-colored violin and a black bow. He placed the case on the floor and sat down on the bench. He looked at his guests and smiled. Â
Then he tucked the end of the violin under his chin, raised the bow and closed his eyes. With his fingers pressed on the strings, he slowly drew the bow across the instrument, and Gabe heard a sound he had heard only in the distance. Now it reverberated within the walls of the room. He had never heard anything like it — or felt anything like it. It was as if the sound were resonating within him.
Gabe was so moved that he began to cry. Listening to the music, he felt transported, just as he had in his dream.
When the last note faded away and the room was silent, Gabe became conscious of his tears. Embarrassed, he wiped them away.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Please don’t be sorry,” Rueben said. “You honor me with your heartfelt emotion.”
After that, Gabe began walking over the Rueben’s house in the evening on his own. He would sit and listen to Rueben play, mesmerized by the music. Â
Rueben seemed to enjoy having an audience. One evening, he asked Gabe if he would like to learn to play the violin.
“I’d love to,” he said.
“Well, I would be happy to teach you. There’s only one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You need a violin.”
“I’ll ask my parents.”
“New violins can be expensive. There’s a music store in town where you might be able to buy a used one. If money’s a problem, maybe I could help out.”
“Thank you. I’ll let my parents know.”
Gabe went home and asked his parents. They shot each other worried looks.
“We’ll see what we can do,” his father said.
“Mr. Rueben said he might be able to help,” Gabe said.
“Well, that’s very generous. But let us see what’s out there and what we might be able to afford.”
A few days later, Gabe came home from school and, as usual, did his homework at the kitchen table. He looked over at a cabinet where his mother kept her china dinnerware, a wedding gift. Now, though, the shelf where it had always been was empty.
“Mami, where is your china?” Gabe said, pointing to the cabinet.
His mother came over and took his hand.
“Gabe, Abba found a very nice violin for you in town. To pay for it, he sold our china. He’ll be bringing it home tonight. We wanted it to be a surprise, but I think you should know.”
Gabe was stunned. He knew his mother loved that china. He’d seen her handle it with great care on the high holidays and other special occasions when she set it out.
“No, Mami! You shouldn’t have sold your china.”
“Gabe, I have never seen you so happy as when Mr. Rueben played his violin for you. That music is the only thing that seems to bring you peace. Abba and I want you to be happy. We are happy to do this for you.”
Gabe was so moved that he began to cry. His mother embraced him, and he held her tight.
That evening, Gabe’s father came home carrying a violin case. Gabe ran to him and hugged him.
“Thank you, Abba.”
His father looked over at his mother.
“I told him,” she said with a smile. “It’s okay.”
After dinner, Gabe sat and held his new violin. It was burgundy, like Rueben’s. It was the most beautiful thing Gabe had ever seen. He sat staring at it, checking out every part of it, gently running his fingers along the strings, down the fingerboard, over the body. Â
Finally, he carefully put it back in its case, which he placed on the coffee table next to the sofa. He lay gazing at it in the dim light until he fell asleep.
The following evening, Gabe brought his violin with him to Rueben’s house.
“Oh, my! What have we here?”
“My parents bought me a violin,” Gabe said, beaming.
“Come in, and let’s take a look.”
They went into the living room. Gabe laid his violin on the coffee table and opened the case.
“Wow!” Rueben said. “What a beauty!”
“It looks like yours.”
“It does indeed.”
“Will you teach me to play?”
“Nothing could bring me more joy.”
Then Rueben began what would become years of instruction. He taught Gabe how to read music, how to hold the violin, how to press the strings, how to work the bow. He introduced him to both classical pieces and contemporary songs. Â
Gabe learned quickly, and he had a knack for the violin. By the time he was 12, he was playing nearly as well as Rueben, and his lesson time had turned into playing time for the two of them.
Along the way, Rueben and Gabe got to know each other. They shared their stories. Â
Rueben was born in Romania. His parents were Holocaust survivors. They moved to Israel when the country was established and Rueben was a young boy. He learned to play the violin from his father, who was a classically trained musician.
“He told me the thing he missed most in the camps was the sound of music,” Rueben said. “I think that’s why he played so much and taught me to play. He wanted his music to live on.”
When he was a young man, Rueben married a beautiful young woman named Rachael. They had no children. Still, they lived together happily until she died, around the time Gabe was born. Rueben had lived alone ever since.
“So why do you still play the violin?” Gabe asked him once.
“I play for the same reason I bake bread,” he said. “Bread and music are both important. One nourishes the body. The other nourishes the soul. Baking bread and playing music, doing both, makes me feel whole.”
Gabe smiled. Rueben had a way of explaining things that Gabe could understand.
“And what about you?” Rueben said. “Why do you play the violin?”
“When I was little, the sound of bombs and gunfire terrified me. But in the evening, the sound of your violin soothed me. Your music reminded me there is still something beautiful in the world. I wanted to bring that kind of comfort and beauty into the world too.”
Rueben smiled and nodded.
“I believe the whole world will one day be moved by your music,” he said.
On one of the first days of music class in high school, Gabe played his violin for his teacher. She was astonished by his proficiency.
“I think you could play with the Young Israel Philharmonic Orchestra,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a group of our country’s best young players of orchestral instruments. I know someone there. Would you like me to see if I can get you an audition?”
“Sure.”
A few weeks later, she drove him to Tel Aviv, less than an hour away, to audition in the theater where the junior orchestra performed. Gabe played for the conductor himself. He played the first movement from Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto, a piece he had practiced many times with Rueben.
When he was finished, the conductor just sat there, saying nothing, looking stunned. Gabe wasn’t sure what to think. Then the man stood and began to clap.
“Bravo!” he said. “Young Mr. Schwartz, we will find a place for you here.”
Gabe was thrilled. One evening, six months later, the conductor called Gabe to tell him he had been chosen to join the orchestra that summer. He would fill the vacancy created by a violinist who had turned 18 and would be leaving the program.
Gabe’s mother drove him to rehearsals that summer. From the start, Gabe impressed everyone with his mastery of the violin. But he had a lot to learn too. Other than Rueben, he had never played music with anyone else. Learning how to blend with so many other musicians was a challenge for Gabe. But by the end of that summer, he played his parts seamlessly.
He also got to know 99 other teenagers from all over Israel. Until then, Gabe hadn’t left his small town. Meeting other young people from very different places and backgrounds expanded Gabe. And traveling to Tel Aviv, Jerusalem and Haifa for concerts gave him a glimpse of a larger world.
Gabe was now playing with his country's most talented young musicians. But even among this elite group, he stood out. Seeing his extraordinary talent and promise, the conductor named Gabe first chair violinist in just his second year. At just 16, Gabe was leading the orchestra in tuning before concerts and rehearsals.
The conductor also let Gabe stand next to him and play a prominent violin part in a piece by Tchaikovsky just before intermission at each concert.
At first, Gabe was nervous and a bit stiff. But in time, he moved fluidly, his body rising and swaying with the music, his long hair whipping around his head, his violin bobbing and weaving. The audience loved it. Gabe got a standing ovation every time.
Rueben came to see the youth orchestra perform in Jerusalem. Gabe had arranged for him to sit in the front row. His eyes were fixed on Gabe the whole time. Several times, he was overcome by emotion and wept. Seeing this, Gabe kept his eyes on his sheet music lest he break down too.Â
Gabe was becoming a star. In its reviews of the orchestra, The Jerusalem Times called him a “prodigy.” Videos of Gabe performing became YouTube sensations. And all of this was happening while he was still in high school, where he’d become very popular, especially with the girls.
The violin had been calling to Gabe all is life, and he was answering the call. By his senior year in high school, Gabe knew he would be a professional musician. Â
First, though, he would have to join the Israeli military for 32 months, a requirement of every 18-year-old in Israel.
When he showed up for duty, Gabe told the officer in charge he was opposed to war but wanted to serve by entertaining the troops.
The officer looked up at him and scoffed.
Undaunted, Gabe said, “May I play something for you?”
He'd brought his violin with him. The officer sat back in his chair, folded his arms and nodded.
Gabe opened his case, took out his violin and began playing “Hatikvah,” the Israeli national anthem.
The officer looked astonished. When Gabe was finished, he looked around the room and saw all the other conscripts standing at attention.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll get you into one of our ensembles.”
For the next two and a half years, Gabe performed with a group of 10 musicians and singers. They toured the nearly 70 military bases throughout Israel. Each of their shows concluded with a soaring rendition of Hatikvah, which means “The Hope.”
This experience too expanded Gabe. He not only got to see all of Israel, he was exposed to the personal stories of those who had defended his homeland. They didn’t change his opposition to war, but they helped him more fully appreciate the sacrifice others had made on his behalf.
Not that the conflict had ever gone away. Whenever he went, Gabe heard explosions and gunfire. It reminded him of the sounds of violence that had so frightened him as a young boy. But now it was he who, like Rueben, was bringing a measure of peace.
Finally, when his military service was over, Gabe was able to study music. He knew he needed a degree to play with the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra, and that was now his goal. Â
With his talent and experience, Gabe had his pick of schools in Israel. He chose The Buchmann-Mehta School of Music because he qualified for a full scholarship and would have the opportunity to study under the Israel Philharmonic.
At 21, he moved to Tel Aviv and began his study. Students at Buchmann-Mehta came from all over the world. This further expanded Gabe.
One student in particular really caught his eye. Her name was Ania. Blue-eyed, blond and petite, she hailed from Warsaw and played the harp. To Gabe, she looked like an angel.
After music history class one day, he asked her to have coffee. She said yes. They clicked immediately, began dating and fell in love.
It was one of the best things that had ever happened to Gabe. One of the worst occurred during his junior year, when he got a call from his mother.
“Gabe, I am so sorry to tell you this,” she said, her voice breaking. “Mr. Rueben has died.”
Gabe maintained his composure while he was on the phone. But as soon as he hung up, he sat down and wept for a long time. Â
Then he wiped away his tears, picked up his violin and thought of a song Rueben had taught him, “Amazing Grace.”
“Isn’t that a Christian song?” Gabe had said at the time.
“Maybe so,” Rueben said. “But it’s about a man who was saved by God’s grace. I have been saved by God’s grace. This song speaks to me. Plus, it’s so beautiful. Let’s play it together, shall we?”
Now Gabe raised his bow and began to slowly, reverently play “Amazing Grace.” He imagined playing it with Mr. Rueben. He could well imagine that because Mr. Rueben had saved him.
Upon graduation, Gabe realized his dream and joined the Israel Philharmonic Orchestra. Just as he had with the junior orchestra, he stood out. Â
However, he was no longer called a prodigy. Now Gabe was becoming known as a virtuoso. Soon he began receiving invitations to perform as a guest violinist with symphony orchestras all over the world.
And now that he finally had an income, he asked Ania to marry him. Happily, she said yes. They were married in Tel Aviv, where they bought a small house and started a family.
Gabe was playing with the Vienna Philharmonic when Hamas attacked Israel. Hearing the news, he immediately called Ania to make sure she and their children were safe. Thankfully, they were.
“But I’m worried about your parents,” she said.
Gabe then called his parents’ house. They were still living in the same house near Gaza, his boyhood home. Â
He was relieved when his mother answered.
“It’s awful,” she said. “We are afraid.”
“Mami, stay where you are. I’m going to have someone come there and pick you and Abba up and bring you to Tel Aviv. You can live with us until it’s safe for you to return home.”
Gabe arranged for his parents to be driven to his house the following morning. Then he rushed to the airport in Vienna and took the next flight to Tel Aviv.
He thought about moving his family, and now his parents, to a safer location. But where? He knew the Israeli army was already beginning to mobilize for a counterattack and that Tel Aviv would now be well protected. Who knew if nearby countries would be any safer?
So Gabe decided to stay put. He had the orchestra postpone his scheduled guest appearances with other orchestras around the world. They all understood.
Early one morning, Gabe awoke to the sound of an explosion in the distance. He was shaking. He thought about all the missiles now being fired into Gaza and the West Bank. He thought about how terrified the people there must be.
He eyed his violin case on a table in the corner. He thought of Mr. Rueben and how his music had saved him as a boy. He wondered how different his life might have turned out if Mr. Rueben had not chosen to share his gift.
“You’re going where?” Ania said with a look of disbelief.
“I must go,” Gabe said, holding her hands. “I can get there in an hour, and I’ll be back tonight in time to put the kids to bed.”
“But you won’t be safe.”
“I’ll be fine. The shelling is now within Gaza. The border is fortified.”
“But Gabe, why? Why must you do this?”
“Ania, I would not be here today were it not for music, music that gave me comfort and hope as a boy. This is what the people of Gaza need most right now. Being able to play the violin is my gift. I have to share it. I have to share it with people who need to know there is still beauty in the world.”
Ania embraced her husband and held him for a long time, knowing she could not keep him from what he saw as a sacred task.
That afternoon, Gabe drove 40 miles southwest to the outskirts of Gaza, not far from his parents’ house. He took his violin and bow from his case and, as the sun began to set over Gaza, he began to play. He continued playing as darkness fell and the sound of explosions in the distance began to taper off. Then he drove home.
Gabe did this all along the border of Gaza, day after day, night after night, until the war was over. He stood there alone and created in the midst of destruction.
Sometimes, Israelis would gather to hear him play. Sometimes Palestinians across the border would gather too. His music, of course, knew no border. It reached them all the same.
Tired of gloomy tales about catastrophes and conflicts? Journeys Within: Stories, by Don Tassone, offers an oasis of healing and hope. Tassone’s eighth book of short stories features fictional characters from school-age children to elderly retirees. Several tales have an international flavor, with settings in Israel, Italy, and Omaha Beach, France. Others occur in Omaha, Nebraska, Cordele, Georgia, and Boston, Massachusetts. The common thread is how characters find peace, joy, and love, even in war, calamity, and loss.
Readers relate to the believable personalities and scenarios Tassone created. The characters’ journeys challenge their minds, bodies, and souls. Some face emotional situations, like young Dylan in “Refuge,” when his parents divorced. Others cope with life-changing physical injuries, as twenty-year-old Carlos Martinez does in “Reset.” Events test the strength of their convictions, the depth of their compassion, or the extent of their faith. Yet, they find confidence in the midst of difficult circumstances and show determination despite resistance.
Tassone is a master storyteller. Using simple language, he draws you into the characters’ world and transmits their emotions from the page straight to your heart. If you liked Tuesdays With Morrie, or are a Ray Bradbury fan, “Conversation on a Park Bench” will make you smile.
“The Secret Bookshelf” raises a range of emotions. High school librarian Belle Davis discovers Haley Monroe, a beloved teacher with over 25 years of experience, is violating a Texas state law that bans numerous classic books from the library. Monroe is providing banned books to students at the school. The titles include The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Leaves of Grass, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Diary of a Young Girl, and The Handmaid’s Tale. Both women must choose whether to stand for their beliefs despite the consequences. Monroe addresses parents at the local school board meeting. She asks, “Will you allow the state to decide what’s suitable for our children to read or will you have a voice in that?”
Adults of all ages will enjoy these thoughtful short stories. Tassone’s smooth writing style provides a relaxing reader experience, whether you’re sunning at the beach, taking a work break, or lounging at home after a long day. Clear narration, realistic dialogue, and heartfelt conclusions make each story feel like a hug from your best friend. Journeys Within: Stories, by Don Tassone, is a collection of carefully crafted tales that comfort the soul and refresh the spirit.