barely contain his laughter as he walked up and saw the impromptu vigilante
mob that had formed. “Boy, you’re either not from around here or you’re the dumbest
criminal I’ve ever met,” he said to the man with his face in the dirt. “This has got
to be the safest road in the county. These people would give the shirt off their backs
or the bullets out of their guns for each other.”
The men all silently nodded and smiled to themselves in a rare moment of recognition
about how wonderful life was on their little road. The officer continued, “Normally
I’m called out to protect the homeowner, but in your case,I actually think I’m here to protect you.” The men all laughed as the would-be robber
was put into cuffs.
Now, as I saw the same worried glance on my grandmother’s face, I knew exactly what
it meant: Grandpa would be personally checking out the Johnsons’ place—and he’d likely
be bringing David Bauer and some of the other neighbors, along with a few Winchester
lever-action rifles, with him.
I went to bed early, but I was afraid to sleep. My mother had been a character in
some of my dreams before, but always in a dull, black-and-white way. I’d never had
a dream so vivid as what I’d experienced on the road that day—and I didn’t want them
to start now.
Unlike the Ashtons, my grandparents had an old color console Zenith television set
that they’d bought at an auction. About fifteen minutes before we were going to watch
a show, my grandfather would say, “I’m gonna go in and warm up the set.” It took forever
before the picture finally came on and looked right (with “right” in this casemeaning colors that always made everyone look a little seasick).
The one show that my grandparents never missed was Lawrence Welk’s. Grandma loved
him, but now that I’d seen Taylor’s TV, Lawrence Welk only annoyed me. The show was
anything but “Wonderful, wonderful!” and watching him was a constant reminder that
I wasn’t able to see Starsky and Hutch or even Happy Days, which Grandma called a “cute” show, except for “that Fonzie Boy.”
But while I hated Lawrence Welk, I loved the idea of television. It amazed me that
a camera somewhere in Welkland captured him leading an orchestra and that a moving
image somehow made it through the air to the big device humming in the living room.
When Grandma turned the television off, I would keep watching as the picture collapsed
on itself until nothing was left but a fading dot in the center of the screen.
That night, after tossing and turning in bed for an hour, I snuck down to the family
room and turned the television on. The control made a thunk so loud that I wassure one of my grandparents would come to see what the noise was. I didn’t dare turn
the channel selector; it made even more noise than the power switch.
As I waited for the picture to materialize, I noticed for the first time how old their
TV set was. I wondered if it bothered my grandmother that Grandpa couldn’t afford
a new one. It sure bothered me.
I sat right next to the screen—way too close to avoid getting cancer or going blind.
That was when the cast of characters in my new life at the farm became complete: There
were my grandparents; Taylor and his folks; the stranger next door; and my three newest
friends—Johnny, Ed, and Doc.
I watched The Tonight Show that night and, at least for an hour, escaped the farm and my thoughts. I would have
watched all night, but the station signed off after the show ended, leaving me with
an American flag waving as “The Star Spangled Banner” played in the background.
Then there was just an Indian head on top of an odd circle—and I was alone again.
Ten
W hen I told Taylor that my grandparents only watched TV once a week and when we did
it was Lawrence Welk, he was shocked. His parents let him watch whatever he wanted,
as long as he finished his chores in
mob that had formed. “Boy, you’re either not from around here or you’re the dumbest
criminal I’ve ever met,” he said to the man with his face in the dirt. “This has got
to be the safest road in the county. These people would give the shirt off their backs
or the bullets out of their guns for each other.”
The men all silently nodded and smiled to themselves in a rare moment of recognition
about how wonderful life was on their little road. The officer continued, “Normally
I’m called out to protect the homeowner, but in your case,I actually think I’m here to protect you.” The men all laughed as the would-be robber
was put into cuffs.
Now, as I saw the same worried glance on my grandmother’s face, I knew exactly what
it meant: Grandpa would be personally checking out the Johnsons’ place—and he’d likely
be bringing David Bauer and some of the other neighbors, along with a few Winchester
lever-action rifles, with him.
I went to bed early, but I was afraid to sleep. My mother had been a character in
some of my dreams before, but always in a dull, black-and-white way. I’d never had
a dream so vivid as what I’d experienced on the road that day—and I didn’t want them
to start now.
Unlike the Ashtons, my grandparents had an old color console Zenith television set
that they’d bought at an auction. About fifteen minutes before we were going to watch
a show, my grandfather would say, “I’m gonna go in and warm up the set.” It took forever
before the picture finally came on and looked right (with “right” in this casemeaning colors that always made everyone look a little seasick).
The one show that my grandparents never missed was Lawrence Welk’s. Grandma loved
him, but now that I’d seen Taylor’s TV, Lawrence Welk only annoyed me. The show was
anything but “Wonderful, wonderful!” and watching him was a constant reminder that
I wasn’t able to see Starsky and Hutch or even Happy Days, which Grandma called a “cute” show, except for “that Fonzie Boy.”
But while I hated Lawrence Welk, I loved the idea of television. It amazed me that
a camera somewhere in Welkland captured him leading an orchestra and that a moving
image somehow made it through the air to the big device humming in the living room.
When Grandma turned the television off, I would keep watching as the picture collapsed
on itself until nothing was left but a fading dot in the center of the screen.
That night, after tossing and turning in bed for an hour, I snuck down to the family
room and turned the television on. The control made a thunk so loud that I wassure one of my grandparents would come to see what the noise was. I didn’t dare turn
the channel selector; it made even more noise than the power switch.
As I waited for the picture to materialize, I noticed for the first time how old their
TV set was. I wondered if it bothered my grandmother that Grandpa couldn’t afford
a new one. It sure bothered me.
I sat right next to the screen—way too close to avoid getting cancer or going blind.
That was when the cast of characters in my new life at the farm became complete: There
were my grandparents; Taylor and his folks; the stranger next door; and my three newest
friends—Johnny, Ed, and Doc.
I watched The Tonight Show that night and, at least for an hour, escaped the farm and my thoughts. I would have
watched all night, but the station signed off after the show ended, leaving me with
an American flag waving as “The Star Spangled Banner” played in the background.
Then there was just an Indian head on top of an odd circle—and I was alone again.
Ten
W hen I told Taylor that my grandparents only watched TV once a week and when we did
it was Lawrence Welk, he was shocked. His parents let him watch whatever he wanted,
as long as he finished his chores in
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