I was lost in thought as I drove home this evening, my mind splintered by the day’s frustrations and the mountains before me, bearded as they were with February mist, my almost-formed thoughts bunching up and then firing off in some of the directions to which they’re prone, then looping back and catching hold of the lullaby voice of Father Chad Ripperger, whose podcast was playing while the tires spun the rain back behind me and the wipers kept a cadence like 45 pairs of boot heels digging into the surface of the grinder beneath that unrainy sky so many years ago. The road sweeps down through a mountain gap…