JOHN G. PATY JR., M.D.
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I drove to the cemetery through mountains newly filled with green. The smell of honeysuckle permeated the air. A squirrel darted in front of my car, just missing the left front wheel. The mountains swallowed me up and then spit me out into the valley. When I arrived it was almost noon, but the morning dampness had not been burned off by the bright sun, held there by a canopy of poplars, oaks, and maples. Intermittently came the knock of a woodpecker.
"Scuse me, Mister, could you tell me who they's buryin' today. We was sitting on the porch and
PATY JG. A Country Funeral. Ann Intern Med. 1983;99:418. doi: 10.7326/0003-4819-99-3-418_2
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Published: Ann Intern Med. 1983;99(3):418.
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Print ISSN: 0003-4819 | Online ISSN: 1539-3704
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