What first seems to be a capsule of reminder of quintessential small town charm (Mayberry before there was Mayberry), evolves into inditement to the general human who does not take time to watch the little moments of life take place before them.
Wilder gives the weight of a scene not to the background and the material but to the people and the interactions between them. The preparing and sharing of breakfast, the walking and talking on the way home from school, the conversations that occur solely before a wedding, and the gossip between fellow choir members. This is the stuff of life, for Wilder, and the pieces we often miss when we are too focused on the eating of breakfast, the studying, and the getting married before we carry on with life.
The reminder from Wilder is helpful and needed but the direction to which he points seems to be only close to the mark while hitting the ideal target.
His view of the afterlife leaves the dead emotionless and looking back at the small happenings of life with a dead pan regret. The eternality of the soul does not rest in a state glorying in the reason for its eternality but instead is relegated to the position of a sentry only able to see what has been missed.
This play gives no hope even though it calls for a change in perspective. Even if we heed the warning of Wilder we are left, in the end, with the satisfaction that we paid attention while we shared eggs and coffee with the ones we love.
I need more reason for embracing life than an assurance that the little things were embraced appropriately. Life is a big thing with big reasons and by that truth I can be shaken alert during my routines and schedule and realize life has an end that can be glorious. I can live that truth even in our town.