patriotism. I don't think my mother would have been fond of Sinatra's politics, but she liked what she called his 'early' voice, in particular those songs from Sinatra's first sessions with Tommy Dorsey. Because she liked to sing along with Sinatra, she preferred his voice before the war-when he was more subdued and less of a star, when Tommy Dorsey kept him in balance with the band. Her favorite recordings were from -'I'll Be Seeing You,' 'Fools Rush In,' 'I Haven't Time to Be a Millionaire,' 'It's a Lovely Day Tomorrow,' 'All This and Heaven, Too,' 'Where Do You Keep Your Heart?,' 'Trade Winds,' 'The Call of the Canyon'; and, most of all, 'Too Romantic.'
I had my own radio, and after Mother died, I listened to it more and more; I thought it would upset my grandmother to play-on the Victrola-those old Sinatra songs. When Lydia was alive, my grandmother seemed content with her reading; either she and Lydia took turns reading to each other, or they forced Germaine to read aloud to them-while they rested their eyes and exercised their acute interest in educating Germaine. But after Lydia died, Germaine refused to read aloud to my grandmother; Germaine was convinced that her reading aloud to Lydia had either killed Lydia or had hastened her death, and Germaine was resolute in not wanting to murder Grandmother in a similar fashion. For a while, my grandmother read aloud to Germaine; but this afforded no opportunity for Grandmother to rest her eyes, and she would often interrupt her reading to make sure that Germaine was paying proper attention. Germaine could not possibly pay attention to the subject-she was so intent on keeping herself alive for the duration of the reading. You can see that this was a home already vulnerable to invasion by television. Ethel, for example, would never be the companion to my grandmother that Lydia had been. Lydia had been an alert and appreciative audience to my grandmother's nearly constant comments, but Ethel was entirely unresponsive-efficient but uninspired, dutiful but passive. Dan Needham sensed that it was Ethel's lack of spark that made my grandmother feel old; yet whenever Dan suggested to Grandmother that she might replace Ethel with someone livelier, my grandmother defended Ethel with bulldog loyalty. Wheelwrights were snobs but they were fair-minded; Wheelwrights did not fire their servants because they were stodgy and dull. And so Ethel stayed, and my grandmother grew old-old and restless to be entertained; she was vulnerable to invasion by television, too. Germaine, who was terrified when my grandmother read to her-and too terrified to read aloud to Grandmother at all-had too little to do; she resigned. Wheelwrights accept resignations graciously, although I was sorry to see Germaine go. The desire she had provoked in me-as distasteful as it was to me at the time-was a clue to my father; moreover, the lustful fantasies that Germaine provided were, although evil, more entertaining to me than anything I could hear on my radio. With Lydia gone, and with me spending half my days and nights with Dan, Grandmother didn't need two maids; there was no reason to replace Germaine-Ethel would suffice. And with Germaine gone, / was vulnerable to invasion by television, too.
'YOUR GRANDMOTHER IS GETTING A TELEVISION!' said Owen Meany. The Meanys did not have a television. Dan didn't have one, either; he'd voted against Eisenhower in ', and he'd promised himself that he wouldn't buy a TV as long as Ike was president. Even the Eastmans didn't have a television. Uncle Alfred wanted one, and Noah and Simon and Hester begged to have one; but TV reception was still rather primitive in the north country, Sawyer Depot received mostly snow, and Aunt Martha refused to build a tower for the necessary antenna-it would be too 'unsightly,' she said, although Uncle Alfred wanted a television so badly that he claimed he would construct an antenna tower capable of interfering with low-flying planes if it could get him adequate reception.
'You're getting a televisionT' Hester said to me on the phone from Sawyer Depot. 'You lucky little prick!' Her jealousy was thrilling to hear. Owen and I had no idea what would be on television. We were used to the Saturday matinees at the decrepit Gravesend movie house, inexplicably called The Idaho-after the faraway western state or the potato of that name, we never knew. The Idaho was partial to Tarzan films, and-increasingly-to biblical epics. Owen and I hated the latter: in his view, they were SACRILEGIOUS; in my opinion, they were boring. Owen was also critical of Tarzan movies.
'ALL THAT STUPID SWINGING ON VINES-AND THE VINES NEVER BREAK. AND EVERY TIME HE GOES SWIMMING, THEY SEND IN THE ALLIGATORS OR THE CROCODILES-ACTUALLY, I THINK IT'S ALWAYS THE SAME ALLIGATOR OR CROCODILE; THE POOR CREATURE IS TRAINED TO WRESTLE WITH TARZAN. IT PROBABLY LOVES TARZAN! AND IT'S ALWAYS THE SAME OLD ELEPHANT STAMPEDING- AND THE SAME LION, THE SAME LEOPARD, THE
SAME STUPID WARTHOG! AND HOW CAN JANE STAND HIM? HE'S SO STUPID; ALL THESE YEARS HE'S BEEN MARRIED TO JANE, AND HE STILL CAN'T SPEAK ENGLISH. THE STUPID CHIMPANZEE IS SMARTER,' Owen said. But what really made him cross were the Pygmies; they gave him THE SHIVERS. He wondered if the Pygmies got jobs in other movies; he worried that their blowguns with their poison darts would soon be popular with JUVENILE GANGS.
'Where?' I asked. 'What juvenile gangs?'
'MAYBE THEY'RE IN BOSTON,' he said. We had no idea what to expect from Grandmother's television. There may have been Pygmy movies on The Late Show in , but Owen and I were not allowed to watch The Late Show for several years; my grandmother-for all her love of effort and regulation-imposed no other rules about television upon us. For all I know, there may not have been a Late Show as long ago as ; it doesn't matter. The point is, my grandmother was never a censor; she simply believed that Owen and I should go to bed at a 'decent' hour. She watched television all day, and every evening; at dinner, she would recount the day's inanities to me-or to Owen, or Dan, or even Ethel-and she would offer a hasty preview of the absurdities available for nighttime viewing. On the one hand, she became a slave to television; on the other hand, she expressed her contempt for nearly everything she saw and the energy of her outrage may have added years to her life. She detested TV with such passion and wit that watching television and commenting on it-sometimes, commenting directly to it-became her job. There was
