Our Town: Act III

By the time Act III comes around in "Our Town" you kind of think you have a handle on things. You think that you know what the play's really about- living and growing up and how things change and are never really the same. And it's kind of bittersweet but malleable and the average reader can handle it with a mild sense of nostalgia.

Oh, but then the third act. The third act comes around like a punch in the gut and leaves you sitting there on the metaphorical floor, questioning life and living and death and dying. I'm kind of still reeling. How many days have we woken up and not appreciated waking up? How many nights have we ignored the stars? For how long have we not taken the time to look at our family, our friends, our enemies, and think, "Wow, you know, we're all so young and precious and beautiful, this is what life's really about."? Do we really have to wait until we're dead to realize that life really is wonderful in all it's imperfect, run-of-the-mill variety?

Wilder raises more questions than answers, and when he's not presenting questions he's pushing a point that's so obvious and yet so ambiguous that it's uncomfortable to realize that you might not have faced this question (or is it really a fact of life?) before: what are you doing in life? Are you appreciating it for it's wonders? Are you really making a difference?

The hard, truthful answer is, probably not. Today's busy lifestyle has no time leftover to stop and smell the roses. And when you don't do that, it's kind of hard to make a decent imprint. Most of us will barely make an imprint on those closest to us, let alone all of humankind. So summarily, we're going to grow up and live and maybe get married and have some kids and then we're going to die and that's the end of it. Our gravestones are the only thing, after some time, to mark our existence. And even stones get worn away with time. There's some little question of what waits for us after death, but for now I'd rather focus on the here and now. What's waiting for us today, right in front of us? And how much are we really missing?