For my mother, our trips to Sawyer Depot were serene occasions-fresh air and girl-talk with Aunt Martha, and some doubtless n her; she would nod off to sleep in her wheelchair, wherever Germaine had left her, sometimes facing into a corner. Dan Needham suffered from my mother's affliction: he, too, couldn't keep his hands off Owen Meany. the exact falsetto, the permanent scream, of Owen Meany.
Kenmore feared he would fall through the slats. It was Sunday, July , . What would my grandmother and Owen Meany have said about that ? LIBERACE! Owen would have cried. What struck me was my memory of how easily and gracefully she had told that little lie about the store burning down, how she had fretted so convincingly about the red dress.
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