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Let me dispel a few rumors so they don't fester into facts.
quote by Tom Schulman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freddy Sez
Bang the pan slowly, for Freddy is dead.
Grasp the spoon firmly in hand.
Aim for the Shamrock that graces the pot
That for years Freddy used at home stands
Retire the signs so colorfully made
That he used to urge his Yankees on.
Sheppard is dead, Steinbrenner’s gone
Freddy Sez follows behind.
From the time he retired till the day that he died
He faithfully followed his team.
He outlasted the House Ruth brought in being
A twenty eighth win was his dream.
He wandered the stands from bleachers to field
With the pan and his colorful signs
Has any among us not handled the spoon?
Will anyone bid him goodbye?
Freddy Schulman 'Freddy Sez' passed on 10/17/2010. He was a fixture at Yankee home games from 1988-2010
He left us on a travel day.
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jubilee
[ music: natalie merchant/words: natalie merchant ]
[ musical arrangement: jason osborn/first violin: krista bennion feeney/second violin: mitsuru tsubota/viola: louise schulman/cello: myron lutzke/bassoon: dennis godburn/harpsicord: robert wolin
All belonging to the sait lukes chamber orchestra)/classical guitar: scott kuney/double bass: frank luther (all directed by jason osborn) ]
He fills the flower vases, trims the candle bases, takes small change from the poor box.
Tyler has the key.
He takes nail and hammer to tack up the banner of felt scraps glued together reading,
Jesus lives in me.
Alone in the night he mocks the words of the preacher: God is feeling your every pain.
Repair the christmas stable, restore the plaster angel.
Her lips begin to crumble and her robes begin to peel.
For Bible study in the church basement, hear children gospel citing, matthew 17:15.
Alone in the night he mocks the arms of the preacher raised to the ceiling,
Tell God your pain.
To him the worlds defiled.
In lot he sees a likeness there;
He swears this sodom will burn down.
Near sacred blood theres a dance hall where tyler glen saw a black girl and a white boy kissing shamelessly.
Black hands on white shoulders, white hands on black shoulders, dancing, and you know whats more.
Hes gods mad disciple, a righteous title, for the word he heard he so misunderstood.
Though simple minded, a crippled man, to know this man is to fear this man, to shake when he comes.
Wasnt it God that let puritans in salem do what they did to the unfaithful?
Boys at the jubilee slowly sink into brown bag whiskey drinking and reeling on their feet.
Girls at the jubilee in low-cut dresses yield to the caresses and the man-handling.
Black hands on white shoulders, white hands on black shoulders, dancing, and you know whats more.
Through the tall blades of grass he heads for the jubilee with a bucket in his right hand full of rags soaked in gasoline.
He lifts the shingles in the dark and slips the rags there underneath.
He strikes a matchstick on the box side and watches the rags ignite.
He climbs the bell tower of the sacred blood to watch the flames rising higher toward the trees.
Sirens wailing now toward the scene.
-- matthew 17:15 --
-- lord have mercy onmy son
-- for he is a lunatick, and
-- sore vexed: for oftimes he
-- falleth into the fire and
-- oftimes into the wate
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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