It's Not Far, But I Don't Know The Way
June, 1967
Kenneth Stuart arrived at the cemetery on a mellow November afternoon that would soon darken. He left the taxi and walked through an open double gate of black iron suspended upon columns of granite. Beyond the gate he came upon a granite chapel of unsteepled, dollhouse Gothic, as available as any telephone booth to anybody with the price. He looked here and there across the landscape. The cemetery rose before him in a series of hills. Stone and iron defined its purpose. The oaks were almost bare...
