Lelia's Character Analysis

The office that had been his dad’s, and his grandfather’s before that, was now Sam’s alone. He proudly rattled off his accomplishments to Lelia, about serving in the Navy for four years during the war, and after that he’d continued on with school, studying and passing the law exam in 1946, then the following year he was admitted to practice before the Federal District Court and two years later he was admitted to practice before the United States Supreme Court. In addition to his law practice, he was extremely involved in local government, serving on the town council. Not bragging, mind you, Sam simply wanted his old friend to know how hard he’d worked. Sam had often wondered if the pain of losing Lelia had been behind his need to study and
Life between Owen and herself wasn’t terrific, but indeed much better than it had been. Perhaps Lelia’s “near-miss” of a nervous breakdown before Olivia was born, coupled with her thoughts of suicide, may have actually alarmed her husband, or it could have been that her dad had spoken to Owen about his behavior. Nevertheless, a tiny slice of Lelia’s life had unquestionably changed. One explanation, rather intentional or unintentional, was that Owen had curbed his appetite a bit for whiskey, he now drank mostly Dawson’s Ale. One couldn’t help but notice the cases of the stuff; always stacked up beside the washing machine to the left of the back door. Without a doubt, he still got drunk, but at least he didn’t become as nasty and ruthless as he had with the whiskey. In fact, months had gone by since he last struck Lelia.

“Hey, Mama, Daddy’s home, and he’s gota big box!” Ten year-old Skipper hollered as he ran past his mother, his bare feet making a flip-flap sound on the pine boards of the kitchen floor. The boy then yanked the back door open with all his might, crashing the doorknob into the wall. Again.
Skipper surfaced as the “happy-go-lucky” one of the bunch. He reminded Lelia somewhat of herself as a child, creating a special bond between them.
The dream she had for her son was a simple one; not to lose his gusto for life through a series of damaging decisions as she
“Get down here, quick, we’re gettin’ something, and it looks really big.”
Hearing the hubbub, Stephen slid, full tilt down the banister rail, even though he’d been told a million times not to do that. As usual, the entire house seemed to shake as the young teen landed with a jumping thud. Timmy came running into the mix as Lelia quickly grabbed Jessie’s hand, fearing her four-year-old might be trampled when the stampede had reached the gigantic box. Thank heavens baby Liv was napping in her crib.
All of the ruckus was about quite an unexpected surprise. Upon returning from a three-week-stretch away from home, Owen had purchased a brand new television set. None of the children had even seen one before, and none of the Bauer neighbors had one either.
The set came with an oddity nicknamed “rabbit ears,” (since they sort of resembled a rabbit’s ears). As Owen worked on the new set, he said, “Don’t worry about that foolish looking gadget: I’ll put an antenna up on the roof next spring. It will give us a clearer picture.”
Lelia didn’t know what “an antenna up on the roof” meant, nor did she care about the thing called “rabbit ears.” She loved the set just the way it