Remembering Rudi

Rudi could be a bit of a rascal. I still remember one Sunday morning in Shelton when the police called to say they had him down at the station. Mom said, “That can’t be. He’s still in bed.” 

Rudi was already 14 when I was born, so we didn’t spend a lot of time together in those early days. I remember he had a part-time job stocking shelves at the Tradewell grocery store downtown. That enabled him to buy his own car, which gave him an air of independence and made him extra cool in my eyes. 

After high school, he went into the Army for a time. The next thing I knew he was living in Seattle, home of the 1962 World’s Fair with its futuristic Space Needle, Monorail, and Science Pavilion. He and his then-wife Tove shared a small apartment on the third floor of an old brick building. Never mind that it lacked an elevator. It was a whole new way of living I had never known existed. 

Our parents were old-world Europeans who came to this country from war-torn Germany. Rudi was thoroughly modern. My other brother Harold and I got to stay with him and Tove for a week during the summer of 1965 while our parents were visiting the old country. 

The apartment had a living room with an oval coffee table, a bedroom set off by partitions instead of walls, a kitchen, and a small space in back with windows looking out over the city. Rudi had a desk back there that consisted of a door laid across two saw horses. (He was studying to be a draftsman and would soon go to work for Boeing.) There was also a hide-a-bed where Harold and I slept — or tried to. The city lights seemed almost magical to us. 

During the day, Rudi took his two little brothers with him on his rounds, servicing a series of coin-operated machines where you could buy ice. Though automated, the machines had to be looked after or they could literally freeze up. We’d go inside and Rudi gave us each an ice pick so we could help. 

The best part, though, was driving around the city with its steep hills and tall buildings, listening to Barry McGuire sing “Eve of Destruction” on KJR Seattle, Channel 95. I was too naive to believe we might actually be on the precipice of nuclear war, and as it turned out I was right.

Remembering My Sister Irma

Irma taught me how to do the Twist in the kitchen of our house on Satsop Street in Shelton.

She used to sunbathe on the roof of that house with Annemarie by climbing out their bedroom window.

Irma once tried to force me to eat artichokes when I was a child but finally relented.

I believe she was the first person I ever played tennis with, at Kneeland Park in Shelton (though it could have been Annemarie).

When I was in grade school, she tried to tame my hair with Dippity-do.

I also remember her teasing her hair and waxing her upper lip.

In 1967, Irma played “Little Bit o’ Soul” by the Music Explosion over and over on her portable stereo. 

She bought me my first fish sandwich at the A&W on Mountain View—it was a revelation!

She was the only person I ever knew who owned a sunlamp—so she could work on her tan during  Washington winters when we were growing up.

Irma drove me and my brother Harold all the way to Seattle to see our first concert—The Monkees—though she did not attend.

She introduced me to the pleasures of tomato, onion, and black pepper on an open-faced sandwich. 

And she was the one who got me hooked on tacos—though it was bound to happen anyway.

Irma also loved German deli meats, cheeses, hard rolls, and above all pickles.

She drank Coca-Cola in the morning.

She once put a nail in a glass of Coke and left it overnight because someone told her Coke would dissolve the nail. It did not.

Irma seemed to walk as fast as most people run.

She continued to call me Freddy, my childhood nickname, long after I switched to Al (short for Alfred). I kind of liked it, though. It reminded me of who I was.

“Genuinely pleasing”

“This bird’s eye view of a life makes for a genuinely pleasing reading experience.” 

—Kirkus Reviews

Me and Not Me is a mix of memories and imaginings that chronicle the experiences—real and not real—of a novelist, friend, lover, husband, traveler, fool, and masked conjurer called Al.

Through stories, anecdotes, observations, fantasies, dreams, poems, and other thoughts, the narrator creates an intimate picture of life beyond the merely factual.

Join Al, Annie, and a diverse cast of characters as their lives intertwine in scenarios that reveal more than what happened … or didn’t actually.

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Tight, Simple, and Elegant Prose

In Combustible, we get to enjoy everything there is to love about Al Riske’s work. Tight, simple and elegant prose that cuts to the heart of the story (and its deeper essence). Friendships stretched and tested with the development of a new dynamic. Lives on the brink of transformation. Real people trying to make sense of their lives.

Pages that fly before you.

An ending you never could expect.

I loved this book.

— Greg Bardsley, author of Cash Out

Coming of age ...

"Combustible is a wonderful story ... The author did a great job of bringing each character to life ... I recommend this book to anyone who is looking for a light read with a satisfying plot and interesting characters." 

— Kristi Elizabeth, San Francisco Book Review

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Imagery

Barefoot girl in a backless dress

Streetlights on wet pavement

The shadow of a small plane flickers

across the contours of the grassy shoreline

Long-haired boys and short-haired girls

A blue Adirondack chair by itself on the lawn

Wind-blown palms  through mosquito netting

Red flowers on a black background

The smell of chlorine and Coppertone

A big-breasted blonde in a black bikini

Passenger jet streaking over black hills in a twilight sky

A white blouse with black buttons

Red sweater in a black-and-white world

Eyelashes wasted on a boy

Cliche curtains ruffled by a lacy breeze

Three in One

This three-in-one volume, now available on Amazon, contains the following novels by yours truly:

Sabrina's Window 
On a chilly morning in Taos, New Mexico, a 17-year-old paperboy breaks the window of a 31-year-old hair stylist — an accident that marks the beginning of an instant, inexplicable bond between them. In the course of one high-desert summer, Joshua and Sabrina share confidences, intercede in each other’s love lives, go on a date that scandalizes the town, and confront questions of fidelity, desire, and the nature of love. 

The Possibility of Snow 
This story traces a once promising friendship between college roommates in New England. Steve is eccentric, slightly paranoid, and too perceptive for his own good. He knows the difference between what people say and what they do. Neil is reflective, sincere, and not as together as he seems. There’s not much he’s sure of anymore. They know each other very well and understand each other not at all. 

Then We’d Be Happy 
In this Silicon Valley tale, lower middle-class friends try to fashion futures out of whatever opportunities they can find. Opportunities to make money. Opportunities to be together. Opportunities that fall apart. Opportunities that must be put back together, no matter what.