When Buster was pretty small, perhaps three or four years old, a priest asked a rhetorical question during his homily–I don’t remember the question; it might have been “why are we here, today” or something like that–but the boy was determined to answer it, and his hand shot up and remained there, like one long skinny flagpole wavering, while the priest tried to ignore him. After a while, Fr. Patient–who had baptized Buster and knew him well–sighed and said, “okay,... Read more