Found Poem

                   for my brother Tom De Vries

One of the best pass receivers on the team
was a black track star named Willis Ward.
He and I were close friends –

we roomed together on trips out of town –
and our friendship grew
even closer during our senior year.

Our next game was against Georgia Tech
an all-white school whose coach threatened to
forfeit the contest if Willis played.

Michigan tried to work out a compromise
whereby both Willis and some Georgia Tech star
would stay on the bench.

Because I felt this was morally wrong,
I called my stepfather
and asked what I should do.

“I think you ought to do whatever
the coaching staff
decides is right,” he said.

Still unsatisfied, I went
to Willis himself. He urged
me to play. “Look,” he said,

“the team’s having a bad year. We’ve
lost two games already and
we probably won’t win

any more. You’ve got
to play Saturday. You owe
it to the team.”

I decided he was right.
That Saturday afternoon we
hit like never before . . .

                   (From the memoirs of Gerald R. Ford,
                   complicit in the Warren Whitewash
                   of the JFK assassination.)