... , and I''m confused by the way you communicate." (1) On a windswept hill in an English country churchyard stands a drab, gray slate tombstone. Bleak and unpretentious, it leans slightly to one side, beaten slick and thin by the blaze of time. The quaint stone ... of a cathedral in the presence of a bishop. I was frightened to death." The celebrant at Mass that morning was Bishop John Spalding. With a warm twinkle in his eye, the bishop gently whispered: "Someday you will be just what I am." That boy grew up ...
