When questioned earlier about his school spirit by a completely red-and-black-dressed Sharon, he pointed to the red scarf he’d tied around his neck and tucked inside his jacket saying, “My Tech spirit shows enough in this muffler. I wear the ND cap because its comfortable. And I yell just as loud as you do, Miss Red Raider. Do you have a Red Raider bobblehead on your dash?”
I never tire of looking at the architecture. “It’s really a beautiful campus, isn’t it?” I asked, looking at how the red and gold leaves on the hundreds of campus trees enhanced the setting. Thousands of yellow chrysanthemums lined the walkways and gardens all across campus.
I didn’t press. There were so many things I don’t know about this man — especially about those twenty years of doin’ stuff for the FBI — but if he wants to tell me more, I knew he would when he was ready.
He reached down under the bench and pulled out a small dusty black frame, glass cracked long ago. Brushing it off gingerly with his palm, he read it aloud: