We stood in the "red room" before church on Easter Sunday.  The back door opened and a gentleman walked in with a distinct swagger.  John and I observed as he moved across the room.  That swagger was enhanced by his silver-tipped boots.  "Those are 'Schramms'" John commented, referring to the boots.  He smiled.

For one year, John studied under the tutelage of Peter Schramm at Ashland University.  He read. . . and read. . .and read.  Jefferson, Lincoln, Aristotle, Plato, Machiavelli.  And then he decided that Political Science was not his calling.  I respect him for the decision but when pressed he will admit that he never worked harder than he worked for "Schramm".

Here is why.  Touch the links.  Read the poem aloud in full voice.  You'll be better for it.