How do I begin to write about a man who I only saw in his coffin as I stood in line to pay my respects? I hugged his beloved Edith, wife of almost 50 years, and thanked her for their work that impacted my life in such a huge way. I had spent twenty four hours on a Greyhound bus only to arrive in Rochester Minnesota to find out he had passed early that morning. It was May 15, 1984. I had exchanged letters with the Schaeffers while they were in Switzerland. One day when I