A Little Chapel on the River - just an opinion

Little Chapel on the River. [A pub, a town and search for what matters most] by Gwendolyn Bounds; N.Y,New York, HarperCollins Publishers, 2005
I'm not sure if its the surreal small town setting or the ordinariness of its characters, but something from the very start of this story reaches out and grabs you. From the beginning the author initiates this tugging. There is something more than small town charm that begins to stake a claim on her soul, and eventually persuades her to purchase a home in their community. As she is drawn into the center of their lives the same mystical force begins to reel us in. I think Wendy [thats the authors name] does this effectively because she challenges us to remember events in our past, that though they are not exactly the same and sometimes not even similar, still echo those times in our life that never lose meaning. However, never once does the author elaborate, hardly even giving us a hint, except perhaps in the short personal notes at the end of every chapter, as to what the link is in her past that causes this story to be so captivating in her life to cause her to write a book about it. Perhaps its a sacred connection as alluded to in the title, 'little chapel,' for rarely do we equate, or link, a bar or pub in the same context as a church. The author doesn't romanticize her story and skip over conflicts, rather she integrates them as not only a part of their story but stresses them a necessary part of all of our lives. There are also those magical moments when a grumpy neighbor is transformed into a dear and helpful mentor and friend; moments when a stranger unknowningly invites a secret from a regular patron to be revealed and offers peace and compassion to the painful disclosure; moments when true friendship chooses to focus on loving caring acts rather than on human faults. Though it is a story about certain lifestyles I don't share, and in most cases ever promote, I did often connect with the illustrations of human character both positive and negative.

I spent this past Monday evening and Tuesday back home visiting my mom. In the wee hours of TuesdayAM I was awakened by the sound of a train going through town. My hometown used to be a major railroad hub for Wabash Railroad between St.Louis and Detroit. We had a roundhouse and usually there were at least a half dozen trains waiting in town; and my mom's dad worked on the trains as a conductor and often took family members for train rides. The sound of trains became so second nature to us that we got to where we didn't even hear them. That morning almost immediately after I heard that train I fell back asleep enriched bause of the memories it brought me, rather than feeling I'd been disturbed. At breakfast I asked my mom if she had heard the train [actually there had been two]and she said, 'no.' I hope that the sound of those train [and train sounds everywhere] never lose their 'magic' in my life, maybe in a way they are my 'chapel on the rails' ... for they take with them a part of my past that I hope never dims. So I feel it safe to suppose that a major reason for my enjoying this story is that I also was drawn into it by a force that has staked a claim on my soul!