They are watching the game together tomorrow. God Bless Bo!

Bo Schembechler
April 1, 1929 - November 17, 2006

(University of Michigan Head Coach 1969-1989)

Dialogue
Robert Lamm

Terry
Are you optimistic
'bout the way things are going?

Peter
No, I never ever think of it at all

Terry
Don't you ever worry
When you see what's going down?

Peter
No, I try to mind my business,
that is, no business at all

Terry
When it's time to function
as a feeling human being, will your
Bachelor of Arts help you get by?

Peter
I hope to study further,
a few more years or so. I also hope
to keep a steady high

Terry
Will you try to change
things, use the power that you have,
the power of a million new ideas?

Peter
What is this power you
speak of and this need for things to
change? I always thought
that everything was fine

Terry
Don't you feel repression just
closing in around?

Peter
No, the campus here is very, very free

Terry
Does it make you angry
the way war is dragging on?

Peter
Well, I hope the President
knows what he's into, I don't know

Terry
Don't you ever see the starvation
in the city where you live, all the
needless hunger all the
needless pain?

Peter
I haven't been there lately,
the country is so fine, but my
neighbors don't seem hungry 'cause
they haven't got the time

Terry
Thank you for the talk,
you know you really eased my mind
I was troubled by the shapes
of things to come.

Peter
Well, if you had my
outlook your feelings would be
numb, you'd always think
that everything was fine

Group
We can make it happen
We can change the world now
We can save the children
We can make it better
We can make it happen
We can save the children
We can make it happen

On mounting a rising ground, which brought the figure of his fellow-traveller in relief against the sky, gigantic in height, and muffled in a cloak, Ichabod was horror-struck on perceiving that he was headless! but his horror was still more increased on observing that the head, which should have rested on his shoulders, was carried before him on the pommel of his saddle! His terror rose to desperation; he rained a shower of kicks and blows upon Gunpowder, hoping by a sudden movement to give his companion the slip; but the spectre started full jump with him. Away, then, they dashed through thick and thin; stones flying and sparks flashing at every bound. Ichabod's flimsy garments fluttered in the air, as he stretched his long lank body away over his horse's head, in the eagerness of his flight. 

They had now reached the road which turns off to Sleepy Hollow; but Gunpowder, who seemed possessed with a demon, instead of keeping up it, made an opposite turn, and plunged headlong down hill to the left. This road leads through a sandy hollow shaded by trees for about a quarter of a mile, where it crosses the bridge famous in goblin story; and just beyond swells the green knoll on which stands the whitewashed church. 

As yet the panic of the steed had given his unskilful rider an apparent advantage in the chase, but just as he had got half way through the hollow, the girths of the saddle gave way, and he felt it slipping from under him. He seized it by the pommel, and endeavored to hold it firm, but in vain; and had just time to save himself by clasping old Gunpowder round the neck, when the saddle fell to the earth, and he heard it trampled under foot by his pursuer. For a moment the terror of Hans Van Ripper's wrath passed across his mind, -- for it was his Sunday saddle; but this was no time for petty fears; the goblin was hard on his haunches; and (unskilful rider that he was!) he had much ado to maintain his seat; sometimes slipping on one side, sometimes on another, and sometimes jolted on the high ridge of his horse's backbone, with a violence that he verily feared would cleave him asunder.

An opening, in the trees now cheered him with the hopes that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that he was not mistaken. He saw the walls of the church dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He recollected the place where Brom Bones' ghostly competitor had disappeard. "If I can but reach that bridge," thought Ichabod, "I am safe." Just then he heard the black steed panting and blowing close behind him; he even fancied that he felt his hot breath. Another convulsive kick in the ribs, and old Gunpowder sprang upon the bridge; he thundered over the resounding planks; he gained the opposite side; and now Ichabod cast a look behind to see if his pursuer should vanish, according to rule, in a flash of fire and brimstone. Just then he saw the goblin rising in his stirrups, and in the very act of hurling his head at him. Ichabod endeavored to dodge the horrible missile, but too late. It encountered his cranium with a tremendous crash, -- he was tumbled headlong into the dust, and Gunpowder, the black steed, and the goblin rider, passed by like a whirlwind.
From THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW by Washington Irving

A friend of mine and his wife decided to get a divorce. I would appreciate it if everyone would pray for him and send him well wishes. They have one son,  and has been told repeatedly that it is not his fault. He is taking it hard, and I always worry about friends in need and crisis.

Thanks in Advance