PROMPT:  A picture of an elderly man wearing a suit and a red tie with earphones on. His hands are up, like he’s conducting the music.

 “Excuse me,” a voice said.

Francis Donovan was startled out of his daydream. The headphones had drowned out the noise in the music store, and he’d been lost in bygone days. The music playing on the headphones was from a long time ago. He could almost smell the sweat in the ballroom from young people dancing without the benefit of air conditioning. He was just about to start twirling his hips – just a little because his arthritis was killing him this afternoon – when the voice brought him back to reality.

“Would you like to buy those headphones?”

The voice belonged to a young man wearing a name tag with “Jason.” The plastic name plate was attached to a blue shirt with the store’s logo above the tag. Francis blinked a couple of times to come back to the present day. He wasn’t in a Brooklyn school gym back in 1960. He was in a box store in Florida, trying to fill the hours between lunch and dinner with something other than watching the Gameshow Network and reruns of “M.A.S.H.”

Francis pulled one of the earpieces away and looked at the young man – teenager really – with a look he knew would stop any annoying questions. It was a look he’d honed from his many years as a conductor for a small community orchestra.

“Do I look like I’m finished young man?” Francis said, his voice controlled yet firm.

The teenager put his hands up in a defensive motion.

“Whoa, dude, I’m just checking to see if you wanted to get those headphones,” he said. “Take your time, but we do have some wireless buds you might like better.”

Francis kept his gaze on the teenager until the boy spotted a younger customer and quickly walked away. Over his shoulder, he spoke to Francis again.

“Remember, we work on commission here, so if you want to get those better headphones, my name is Jason and I’d appreciate the support,” he said, a smile in his voice.

Francis watched until the boy turned the corner and then he put the headphones back on. As he fiddled with his phone to return to the spot where he’d been, he was glad he hadn’t traded in his old Motorola for a newer model. His son, Frank, had given him an iPhone for Christmas, but Francis politely gave it back, telling his eldest son he was perfectly happy with his old phone. The truth was, Francis knew how the phone worked, and he wasn’t sure he could learn a new device with all the fancy bells and whistles. Besides, the old phone had headphone jacks, and Francis loved listening to music on YouTube from the old days, back when arthritis was a word he couldn’t spell and metal walkers were for geezers.

Ah, here was the spot where that boy, what was his name – Jacob, Johnny – had interrupted him. It was Tommy Dorsey with one of his best hits “Getting Sentimental Over You.” Francis put the headphones back on and hit the play button on his phone.

The trombone was smooth, and Francis could feel his hands rise as he conducted the orchestra. Pull back on the trumpets a bit, he thought, and his hand swayed through the air. Let the trombone be the star here, he could hear himself telling the musicians. Keep the beat slow but steady, when called for, louder at just the right moment.

Francis felt a wave of sadness wash over him as the music came to an end. The feeling wasn’t just from the melancholy notes. The song always reminded him of the night he met his future wife, Mary. They were both at a dance in early 1960, right before The Beatles and rock and roll would take over the world.

Orchestras were still “keen,” and Francis knew one day he’d be the one standing in front of the instruments, stick in hand, leading the musicians through the notes to create lasting memories and sounds. That moment was as clear to him now as it was back in 1960.

Francis looked across the room and saw her. A group of young girls were standing together as they shyly looked around the room, watching the dancers on the floor. Francis didn’t hesitate – he walked quickly to the group and asked Mary to dance. That was the first dance of many they’d share together over the next 50 years.

All at once, Francis had tears rolling down his face. He missed his wife. He missed his youth. He missed the music that had provided a living for him, comforted him in tough times and lifted him up when his spirits were sagging.

“Hey mister, you okay?” he heard a voice say. It was that persistent sales boy, what was his name, John? Jerry? He was looking at Francis with concern, and the older man felt ashamed. This young boy was simply doing his job. Having an old codger fall over dead wasn’t something anybody wanted to handle in an after-school job.

Francis took the headphones off and tried to smile.

“Yes, young man, er Jason,” he said, glancing at the boy’s name tag, kicking himself mentally for not being able to remember such an easy name.

“Just lost in the music from the old days,” he said sheepishly, removing his eyeglasses and wiping his cheeks. Jason relaxed and smiled.

“I know what you mean,” he said. “Whenever I hear songs from when I was a kid, I’m right back there in my mom’s car, listening to her sing Barbra Streisand songs at the top of her lungs, off key, of course.”

The two laughed. This kid wasn’t so bad, Francis thought.

“So, what song were you listening to that made you, well, get emotional,” Jason asked, pointing at Francis’s phone.

Francis thought about brushing off the boy, but he took a chance.

“It’s an old Tommy Dorsey song about being sentimental,” he said, a little embarrassed. “I got to thinking about my wife and how we danced to that song.”

Instead of excusing himself, Jason seemed to lean closer to Francis. A wistful look was on the boy’s face.

“Before they got divorced, my mom and dad used to dance in the kitchen,” he said. Francis knew Jason’s mind was back in time, just as he’d been a few minutes earlier.

“They’d laugh as they did these dances with stupid names like the swim,” Jason said. “It was if we kids were invisible because they were laughing and shaking their butts. Is that how people danced in your time?”

Francis told him how his generation danced in a more sophisticated style, like the waltz, when he first entered high school but then the music changed.

“By the time I was a senior, rock and roll had arrived, and kids were doing dances like the twist,” Francis said, remembering how awkward he felt when guitars and drums replaced trumpets and trombones.

Jason laughed.

“The twist? Was that really the name of a dance?” he asked, continuing to laugh.

Francis couldn’t help but smile.

“Young man, if these hips weren’t full of arthritis, I’d show you some moves that would make you green with envy,” Francis said, and the two laughed.

Francis tilted his head and looked at Jason.

“So, do you dance?”

Jason shrugged.

“Nah, my generation isn’t really into dancing,” he said. “We mostly listen to music on our earbuds and stand around at the school dances. My mom makes me go because she wants me to be more social.”

Francis looked a little closer at Jason. The boy was wearing braces on his teeth, and his pants were a little short. His hair looked like it had been cut in the kitchen. He probably had trouble fitting in, Francis thought, and immediately felt a pang of sorrow for the boy.

“Well, being social isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,” Francis said, remembering how he felt as a misfit 16-year-old boy. A memory suddenly popped into his head of a song that had been one of his favorites.

“There was a song by Bobby Vinton, ‘Mr. Lonely,’ and I probably listened to that thing a hundred times when I was your age. That seems like so long ago,” Francis said slowly.

But then Mary came along, and his life changed. Now she was gone, and he was probably closer to being Mr. Lonely again. He’d forgotten the boy was still standing there until Jason touched him on the shoulder.

“Well, mister, music can make you happy or sad. Doesn’t matter if you’re listening to it on your old phone there,” he said smiling and pointing at the device on the counter. “What do you say we listen to something a little happier. If I can talk you into a better phone, you can get earbuds and really rock and roll.”

Francis had to smile. Being sentimental, reliving the past, was a place he visited more than was good for him, he knew. He picked up his phone and patted Jason on the shoulder.

“All right, young man,” Francis said, hope in his voice. “Let’s see if you can fix me up with a set up that’s not too hard for this old geezer to learn. Maybe you can give me some suggestions for some modern tunes.”

Jason smiled.

“Cool,” he said. “Come on. I know just what you need.”

Francis wanted to say nobody really knew what someone else needed in life but, every once in a while, somebody comes along who knows what’s needed, if only for the moment.