The son must become his father,
It is for the daddy to dig them out
The son must become his father,
It is for the daddy to dig them out
I am between telephone numbers right now, dear Julian.
I have a new "free phone" from Asssurance Wireless,
but have yet to figure out how to use it.
Love, so much, to you and Judy. You are a great and perfect couple.
I know, I have always been a terror and a pain. You always put up with me, Julian.
I am crying with joy, now, for you are yet my keeper.
Thank Ivan too? I frightened him a few weeks ago.
Phone number soon, Julian. I will let you know.
Ernie's number, if that helps meanwhile, is 305 665 1452
--- email@example.com wrote:
From: Julian Kreeger <firstname.lastname@example.org>
Date: Tue, 21 Jun 2011 10:16:41 -0400
Julian and Judy are like access to June and July,
they are the sum total of healthy warmth for so many people, we lose count.
They gave me my start, and they will help me finish properly.
Julian and Judith and their family and friends. Hello, Valentina and Alexie, too!
Julian, Judy, I am looking this up from lost memory for the first time in decades, ah....!
I recall Leonard Shure treating me like a grandson, nothing cantankerous about him, ever.
Hundreds of hours spend at Gusman Hall with you. "Is the piano still in tune, Reid?"
"Let me check!" (yes, it's pretty good).
Most often I would go to a back row and lay down and listen. But, you, Julian, always sat in the first row,
following score, acting as coach and editor for the artist on stage. Millions of notes passed between you and
so many great pianists, such as beloved Leonard Shure.
I remember and I remember all visits of support after work, from Judy, snacks, life support,
and you and Peter (and myself in my passive way) often worked into the midnight hours with performers of magic, like David Bar-Illan...
Hello, Leon? How is my old best-buddy, your son, Dickie? We drifted apart....
Dear Leonard, I remember you inquiring, "and how are you today, dear boy?"
Dear Leonard, I miss you again; I shall always miss you so much as this:
Julian and Judy introduced me to greatness, with a bit of help from Ivan Davis
Julian and Peter always remained in the background,
and promoted other artists in their stead
Love to all such people as the Audiofon team, for they save souls
This is a video selection (I am thinking to find the perfect item)
for Mike and Dennis, for Judy and Julian,
for Reid and Ernie (duh),
and all the couples in the world,
girls and guys,
Cops and Rubbers will not be snubbers
Dear Judy, I know I am repeating myself, but, you can affirm,
when we met at THD the other day, I was sopping-wet from the rain,
rolling a rocking bike into the store, by your leave,
for you, Judy, I'm Singin' in the Rain...
Love to all the world, wet and dry,
You can yodel op-er-a...
For Julian and Judy, you bet, There's Everything Nice About You, never dying
Julian Dyer (editor of the PPG Bulletin) plays a roll by Phil Ohman for the www.billymayerlsociety.co.uk
I thought, and wept, to myself,
Girls make boys to dare
Horowitz said to his manager, while jerking a disgusted thumb in my direction,
The Candlelight Club, Coconut Grove, 1978,
"Get rid of him! He's impossible!"
This is true. I terrify and ruin everybody.
With Horowitz, I spent less than one minute.
Dear Franz? You lasted much longer with the greatest pianist
(Franz personally gave me my start, along with Julian, Ivan, Stuart Cole and others, to learn about art)
If you are Franz Mohr of Steinway, you tune this piano perfectly. Peter Goodrich,
Director, you've managed the Artist Department for many years, beloved by all.
I'll tell you all a (no longer private) story of Horowitz at seventy five.
He was preparing to make his stage entrance at his Miami Beach Sunday Afternoon recital.
He took a last drag from his unfiltered Camel cigarette.
He stepped onto the stage and played perfectly.
Between pieces he returned to the wing of the stage where his technician Franz Mohr and his managers, and myself, poised in wait,
"How do you think they like me?" (the audience was agog, roaring applause).
Horowitz, like a pixie, feigned to be hard of hearing, cupped his hand to his ear as if unsure,
repeating, "I think they like me. What do you think?"
Composer : Frédéric Chopin ( 1 March 1810 - 17 October 1849 ) .
Composition : Barcarolle in F Sharp Major , op. 60 .
Interpreter : Vladimir Horowitz ( 1 October 1903 - 5 November 1989 ) .
post number thirty four fifty four. I will never carry a gun again, and why? Julian? I know I have de-tracked, but I will call you for guidance very soon.
I needed time to think and puzzle out some things. I thank you all again for your patience.
From guns to roses, who here has held a Stradivarius?
Due to the trust put to me by Julian and others, I once got to hold a great artist's Strad,
to carry it and hand it to him. It is quite a daunting task, "what if I trip and fall?"
I do not want to carry a Strad ever again. Who here would relish that risk?
Point: I have carried lives in my hands. I have damaged some lives, and they have damaged my life in return.
However, all lives, like great violins, can be repaired, mas o menos.
To repair, is to make a pair again, metaphorically, of "body and soul".
This is important, I think, to show a piece created by the world's greatest living composer,
a dear friend, John Corigliano,
John, your father was Concertmaster of the New York Philharmonic for a long time
for good reason. You grew with violin and piano, by two parents so exquisite, well,
I recall your elegant, warm mother and smile and tear at the same time.
I would like to tell you sometime, John, of Clara Rockmore's childhood audition, or you know already, long ago,
of Clara entering St. Petersberg Conservatory, 1915, at her age of four years, sponsored by Auer, playing a tiny, red violin,
perched atop a long, conference table, amazing Leopold Auer's pedagogic associates.
"This is an infant?"
Tis holy when it's true. Chiefs, cops? I never lie.
I was Clara Rockmore's last new friend.
Clara Rockmore's 1936 Rockport, Maine concert program posted by Reid Welch to the Levnet mailing list in 1997.
Rockport Town Hall
FRIDAY EVENING, SEPTEMBER 11, 1936
Benefit Children's Christmas Welfare Fund
Shura Cherkassky, Pianist
Clara Rockmore, Thereminist
Nadia Reisenberg, at the piano
Edward H. Rhein, Baritone
Edith Evans Braun, at the piano
Edward H. Rhein
I N T E R M I S S I O N
Edward H. Rhein
The piano is a Steinway
Note from Reid: I concert-tuned and voiced Cherkassky's piano for his last recital here in Miami in 1992. 'Twas still a Steinway.
Chief Yam? Julian and all,
An essay: post Number Thirteen is a lucky number.
It is 12:22 AM. I do not sleep much,
preferring to think instead and eschew food.
Dear Jody, dear Sandy, I love you, truly,
Dear Beth, we must re-pair,
Beautiful dreamer out on the sea,
Mermaids are chanting the wild Loralie.
Over the streamlet, vapors are born,
Waiting to fade at the bright, coming morn.
Wednesday, lunchtime, June 22, 2011,
Hello to dear compatriots, Alvaro and Luis, an hour or so ago.
And...hugs and love for my gentle girl friends of The Home Depot, Coconut Grove.
We are platonic lovers, of each other, all of us, for our whole lives.
Links to this thread are now shared.
The vibrato is overly-wide. Our sentiment is, therefore, properly developed.
I =presumed=, dear FBI Miami and Washington,
that you would "not see any violation".
You guys are rich.
Remember my exposure of your founder, always, please:
J. Edgar Hoover Embedded Forever
-- Miami@ic.fbi.gov wrote:
From: Miami <Miami@ic.fbi.gov>
To: "ReidWelch@netscape.com" <ReidWelch@netscape.com>
Subject: RE: Dear Beth, and with love to your dear aide, Elizabeth....
Date: Wed, 22 Jun 2011 02:38:52 -0400
No violation within the investigative jurisdiction of the FBI was indentified;
therefore, we are unable to assist you with your complaint/inquiry.
you are mentioned, quite specifically.
I hope you and Judy can help me smooth some frictions.
I don't want to hurt anyone, but only make repairs.
I owe, I owe...
HOOVER is long-dead. He cannot be hurt. Real people, however, are hurt, daily, by illegal cop actions.
I am not making trouble for fun. No fun at all, no sirs....no more cop abuse of civilians, please?
Quote of myself, from page one,
Now, cops, including the FBI.
You will see, unless you are mental retards,
that this thread is allowed by the folks who own this space, because THIS IS A HUMAN RIGHTS issue.
Bicyclists around the world look at cops with jaded eyes.
YOU are not our bosses. YOU all are on the carpet, now. YOU cops cannot cover for your criminal elements any more.
Links sent, leading to this thread, distributed around the world.
One thing is totally clear: I am not a liar at all.
305 665 1452
3901 Hardie Road
Miami, Florida, USA, 33133
DOB, 5 22 1954
Thank you, keepers and members of Cycling Forums,
Freewrights Poetry Review, Google, YouTube,
You are the best folks in the world, brave and resolute and determined to regain and retain our civil rights, world-wide.
Cops? READ PLEASE during your coffee breaks,
RECALLING, as I wake, screaming again, from nightmares of recalls of REALITY, you vile wads of dirt.
((put to my own forum, as the language is too strong for this panel's good))
(unpleasant =toilet bowl= language, sorry for the reality)
Dearest Keenan, just a song at twilight....
...we met the other night despite our personal determinations to make no more entanglements.
We were drawn together for a holy reason you now understand. I love you for your purity and kindness.
No car nor person shall ever harm you again, if I have any say at all. Love to Frank and your families, and for you,