The Four Corners of Life
One day when I was a boy I was riding in the car with my father, in the countryside north of Carbondale, Pennsylvania, when we came to an open crossroads at the top of a high hill.
“They call this intersection The Four Corners of Life,” he said, with a twinkle in his eye. “Can you guess why?”
I looked out of the windows left and right and back, and saw a church and a cemetery on two of the corners, and a couple of buildings which I couldn’t identify on the others.
“Well, I can guess, but you’d better tell me.”