The New Yorker, November 19, 1973 P. 50
Charles Neumiller, a carpenter of German-Catholic parentage, receives a telegram telling him of his father's death. He takes a train to his father's homestead, in N.D., carrying his carpentry tools. Otto Neumiller, his father, had emmigrated from Germany in 1881, & had built himself up from a homesteader into the most prosperous man in the area. He lost nearly everything in the stock market crash. Though he had donated to the church, & had backed the farmer's co-op, the townspeople misunderstood him-thinking that he had a fortune stashed away while their children starved. There were no priests available for the burial, and so Charles had to bury him by himself. He built a coffin & attached a crucifix, dug a grave, and prepared the body. Even though it was heretical, his father's wishes were to buried on his farm - and not next to his wife's remains, buried properly in the town cemetery. Charles wanted to see some sign, as he began the burial, that his father's life and good deeds had not gone unnoticed on earth - so Charles' children would always feel that he believed In a just and a reasonable god. As he began to drive the first nail into the coffin, a procession of mourners -the townspeople- were making their way, over the plains, to pay their last respects.