Threshing Don Noel Howie was insistent: “Dad, I want to get you signed up before you start back.” “We’ve just buried your mother, for God’s sake!” Howard balked. “I haven’t been a widower two weeks yet!” They had returned this morning with fresh flowers, just the two of them, yesterday’s handful of mourners already a distant memory. The cemetery, with its sculpted trees and manicured lawn, was a bright green postage stamp in the wheaten vastness of the Nebraska prairie. […] Continue Reading
