If you have ever created anything and put it out for public display I think you know how vulnerable one can feel, so I guess I am a little nervous about all of this. I’ve decided to publish my novel, Wapsipinicon Summer. It is historical fiction and takes place in a small town in Iowa (Anamosa) in the 1960s. Over the next couple of months I am going to share several excerpts and I hope that you enjoy them. I also hope to generate some feedback as well as expand the audience—if you like any of this, please share with others. I already know that I am not a great writer (or even a very good one for that matter). But I do have a story I want to tell and I hope there are readers out there with a heart to listen. If you grew up in a small town in the Midwest in the 1960s, 70s or 80s I think you might connect to some of this. If you served in the military, or are close to anyone who has served, I think some things in this book will ring true for you. If you’ve ever loved, and felt the sting of disappointment that love can bring, you may find something here too. ~Jay Soupene Excerpt from Wapsipinicon Summer: Andy turned the rental car off of Highway 151 and onto Highway One at Fairview. Glancing over to the left of the road, he saw the historical marker for the Old Military Road. Andy smiled to himself, just a few more miles and he would be home. It had been a long two days of travel leading up to this point but he was almost there. Andy enjoyed driving and the new 2006 sedan was what he needed. He felt in control. The day before had been nothing short of a whirlwind of turmoil and now as he gripped the steering wheel he felt better. From the instant he discovered his father’s death he had been hopping from problem to problem and from one mode of transportation to another. Upon arrival at the airport in Cedar Rapids Andy rented a car and stayed the night in a hotel before the final leg of the journey. As he stepped out of the hotel in the morning, he felt refreshed; he was ready to face the day. With the car came control and it felt good to be in control. Now, forty years later, as he followed the winding road the last couple of miles to Anamosa, his mind floated back to the place where he grew up in the 1960s. For a brief moment he felt like a boy again. He looked out over the rolling hills and deep woods—it had not changed since he was a boy. Andy wondered if he would always feel this way when he returned to his hometown. There was something utterly magical about it. No matter where he lived, no matter where his life would take him, this would always be his hometown. Andy guided the car down the long hill into the Wapsipinicon River valley on the final descent into Anamosa. Crossing the bridge over the Wapsi, he stopped the car and got out to get a good look at the river. Looking down from the bridge he realized it had not changed at all. It looked exactly as it had four decades ago when he was a boy. It was as if the river had been suspended in time. Massive trees still towered over the dark glassy surface, their reflection vivid in the smooth current. Andy thought they seemed to reach to the sky in victory as if they were a fighter towering over a defeated opponent. Several of the trees hung low, almost parallel to the river, their branches gently touching the surface of the water as if they were resigned to it—resigned to the inevitable end that time brings to all living things. He felt a sense of reverence. The water continued to move with the same mystic force in its current that it had for thousands of years. He looked out at the dark deep river and could feel it. A shiver passed through him. Andy also felt a twinge of fear as the swift current passed under the bridge and poured forward, unaltered by time or change as it continued its southeasterly path to the Mississippi. Then a strange sense of comfort poured over him; after all these years, nothing had changed. The same trees seemed to be suspended above the river as if time had not left its scars. The river was alive, and brought life to the land as it always had. Andy smiled and thought about his father and his Uncle Dave. His uncle was always such a story teller, and the times they had together on the river were simply magical. He thought about camping and fishing with his father and the wonderful moments they shared around campfires and on river banks. He knew that he had truly been blessed to be around such incredible men. They were hard working men of integrity. Men who could be trusted in moments of crises, men who spoke truth in their words and their actions. They were men who were faithful to their wives and steady and loving to their children. Andy wondered what he would be if not for their influence in his life. Stepping away from the railing that separated him from the water; Andy got back in his car and continued his drive into town. Passing the Jones County Court House he read the massive stone monument on the front lawn. “Jones County Remembers All Veterans Who Honorably Served Our Country.” Andy smiled as he read the large, proud words engraved in the stone and he thought about that summer in 1966 and how things seemed to turn sideways. He thought about his mother and father, he thought about his uncle, but most of all, he thought about Billy West...
Posted on: Thu, 17 Jul 2014 17:51:39 +0000
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