it,' Hester said. When he joined Hester and me in the cab of the pickup, I
said to him: 'I would have liked to hear that. Won't you read it to us?'
'IT'S OVER,' said Owen Meany. 'IT'S JUST SOME OLD HISTORY.'
And so we departed for the north country-for Sawyer Depot, and Loveless Lake. We took the pickup; we did not take Hester. I'm not sure if she wanted to come. She had made the effort to speak to her parents; Uncle Alfred and Aunt Martha were always happy to see me, and they were polite-if not exactly warm-to Owen Meany. We spent the first night of our trip in the Eastmans' house in Sawyer Depot. I slept in Noah's bed; Noah was in the Peace Corps-I believe he was teaching Forestry, or 'Forest Management,' to Nigerians. Uncle Alfred referred to what Noah was doing as a' 'ticket''- Africa, or the Peace Corps, was Noah's 'ticket out of Vietnam,' Uncle Alfred said. That summer, Simon was running the sawmill; over the years, Simon had injured his knees so often-skiing-that Simon's knees were his ticket out of Vietnam.- Simon had a -F deferment; he was judged physically unfit for service. 'Unless the country is invaded by aliens,' Simon said, 'good old Uncle Sam won't take me!'
Owen referred to his course in Basic Administration for the Adjutant General's Corps as TEMPORARY. Arizona would also be TEMPORARY, Owen said. Uncle Alfred was very respectful of Owen's desire to go to Vietnam, but Aunt Martha-over our elegant dinner-questioned the war's 'morality.'
'YES, I QUESTION THAT, TOO,' said Owen Meany. 'BUT I FEEL ONE HAS TO SEE SOMETHING FIRSTHAND TO BE SURE. I'M CERTAINLY INCLINED TO AGREE WITH KENNEDY'S ASSESSMENT OF THE VIETNAMESE PROBLEM-WAY BACK IN NINETEEN SIXTY-THREE. YOU MAY RECALL THAT THE PRESIDENT SAID: 'WE CAN HELP THEM, WE CAN GIVE THEM EQUIPMENT, WE CAN SEND OUR MEN OUT THERE AS ADVISERS, BUT THEY HAVE TO WIN IT, THE PEOPLE OF VIETNAM.' I THINK THAT POINT IS STILL VALID-AND IT'S CLEAR TO ALL OF US THAT THE 'PEOPLE OF VIETNAM' ARE NOT WINNING THE WAR. WE APPEAR TO BE TRYING TO WIN IT FOR THEM.
'BUT LET'S SUPPOSE, FOR A MOMENT, THAT WE BELIEVE IN THE STATED OBJECTIVES OF THE JOHNSON ADMINISTRATION'S VIETNAM POLICY- AND THAT WE SUPPORT THIS POLICY. WE AGREE TO RESIST COMMUNIST AGGRESSION IN SOUTH VIETNAM-WHETHER IT COMES FROM THE NORTH VIETNAMESE OR THE VIET CONG. WE SUPPORT THE IDEA OF SELF-DETERMINATION FOR SOUTH VIETNAM- AND WE WANT PEACE IN SOUTHEAST ASIA. IF THESE ARE OUR OBJECTIVES-IF WE AGREE THAT THIS IS WHAT WE WANT-WHY ARE WE ESCALATING THE WAR?
'THERE DOESN'T APPEAR TO BE A GOVERNMENT IN SAIGON THAT CAN DO VERY WELL WITHOUT US. DO THE SOUTH VIETNAMESE PEOPLE EVEN LIKE THE MILITARY JUNTA OF MARSHAL KY? NATURALLY, HANOI AND THE VIET CONG WILL NOT NEGOTIATE FOR A PEACEFUL SETTLEMENT IF THEY THINK THEY CAN WIN THE WAR! THERE'S EVERY REASON FOR THE UNITED STATES TO KEEP ENOUGH OF OUR GROUND FORCES IN SOUTH VIETNAM TO PERSUADE HANOI AND THE VIET CONG THAT THEY COULD NEVER ACHIEVE A MILITARY VICTORY. BUT WHAT DOES IT ACCOMPLISH FOR US TO BOMB THE NORTH?
'SUPPOSING THAT WE MEAN WHAT WE SAY-THAT WE WANT SOUTH VIETNAM TO BE FREE TO GOVERN ITSELF-WE SHOULD BE PROTECTING SOUTH VIETNAM FROM ATTACK. BUT IT APPEARS THAT WE ARE ATTACKING THE WHOLE COUNTRY- FROM THE AIR! IF WE BOMB THE WHOLE COUNTRY TO BITS-TO PROTECT IT FROM COMMUNISM- WHAT KIND OF PROTECTION IS THAT?
'I THINK THAT'S THE PROBLEM,' said Owen Meany, 'BUT I'D LIKE TO SEE THE SITUATION FOR MYSELF.'
My Uncle Alfred was speechless. My Aunt Martha said: 'Yes, I see!' Both of them were impressed. I realized that a part of the reason why Owen had wanted to come to Sawyer Depot was to give himself an opportunity to impress Hester's parents. I'd heard Owen's Vietnam thesis before; it was not very original-I think it was borrowed from something Arthur Schlesinger, Jr., had written or said-but Owen's delivery was impressive. I thought it was sad that Hester made so little effort to impress Uncle Alfred and Aunt Martha, and that she was so unimpressed by them.
At bedtime, I could hear Owen babbling away to Aunt Martha-she had put him in Hester's room. Owen was inquiring about the specific teddy bears and dolls and figurines.
'AND HOW OLD WAS SHE WHEN SHE LIKED THIS ONE?'' he would ask Aunt Martha. 'AND I SUPPOSE THAT THIS ONE DATES BACK TO THE FIREWATER ERA,' he would say. Before I went to bed, Simon said to me appreciatively: 'Owen's just as weird as ever! Isn't he great!'
I fell asleep remembering how Owen had first appeared to my cousins-that day in the attic at Front Street when we were contending over the sewing machine and Owen stood in the sun from the skylight that blazed through his ears. I remembered how he had appeared to all of us: like a descending angel-a tiny but fiery god, sent to adjudicate the errors of our ways. In the morning, Owen suggested that we move on to Loveless Lake. Simon advised us to use the boathouse as a base camp. When he got off work at the sawmill, Simon said, he would come take us waterskiing; we could sleep in the boathouse at night. There were a couple of comfortable couches that unfolded to make beds, and the boathouse had new screens on the windows. There were some kerosene lamps; there was an outhouse nearby, and a hand pump drew the lake water into a sink by the bar; there was a propane-gas stove, and some kettles for boiling water-for drinking. In those days, we were allowed to bathe (with soap!) in the lake. Owen and I agreed that it was cozier than camping in our tent; also, for me it was relaxing to get away from Uncle Alfred and Aunt Martha-and the effort that Owen made to impress them. At the lake, we were left alone; Simon appeared only at the end of the day to take us waterskiing-he had a steady girlfriend, so we rarely saw him at night. We cooked hamburgers on a charcoal grill on the boatslip; we caught sunfish and perch off the dock-and
