When I first started reading the works of Russell Amos Augustine Kirk in the fall of 1989, that most joyously fateful of seasons, I had no idea I would wind up three decades later having spent much of my adult life reading him, writing about him, and holding a position named in his honor. At the age of fifty, I happily and proudly stand in his shadow. Of all of the things I have learned about him, though, nothing has impressed me more than the man’s charity, his saint-like dedication to all around him: the poor; the lonely; the disabled;...