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In the Castine, Maine, corner drugstore, I overheard two local residents discussing the virtues and shortcomings of an old-timer who had just passed on to his reward.  One of the men asked the other if he would be going to the funeral.  “Nope,” replied the other.  “He ain’t comin’ to mine, so I ain’t goin’ to his.”

Reader’s Digest, May, 1981 page 131