“Who you here to visit in the hospital?” he asked. “What do you mean?” “Who’d you come to see?” “You, menso,” I said, “who else?” Duke couldn’t believe that he was the only reason for my presence at the hospital. He presumed I had a lengthy list of parishioners and friends to see. He must have thought that he would not make this list of those who matter. Folks on the margins find it hard to fathom that they, too, belong.
