Rob S. Friedman
March 2023
To David Harris, Ripon College Dean of Men, 1973
(RIP, Tom Hoehne and AJ Bumby, townies extraordinaire)
An early spring drive from Milwaukee to Ripon past fallow cornfields and Mercury Motors to a red-brick campus with North-Central blondes.
I climbed the stone stairs and took a seat in your office. I said, I’ll take you if you’ll take me. Our handshake pledged all good things for Fall.
But my roommate smoked Winston and my hash didn’t last. The Racine girls plied me with Schnapps. Microdot turned my first C into whatever. But taunts of Jew from the frosh dorm did not.
After the MDA run to Oshkosh, I climbed your stairs again. You said, This is for the best, and extended your hand.
No more acid tours of the Ransom Street Church, where Jesus had already waved goodbye.
Rob S. Friedman 