All language subtitles for The Waltons s04e04 The Prophecy.eng

My father was a gentle man.

One of the small things
I always remember about him

was a little trick he had of

spinning a half-dollar
with one hand.

Usually, without even
thinking about it.

One summer day,
almost 40 years ago,

he suddenly found
he couldn't do it.

As it turned out, it was
a traumatic day for both of us.

-Dr. Porter.
-Young man.

Young man,
I don't know who you are.

I'm sorry, sir. John Walton, Jr.
I'm a sophomore.

And what do you propose to do
with your life, Mr. Walton?

-What's left of it.
-I'm a writer, sir.

Well, I'm a writer myself,

and I don't think
you understand the question.

What do you mean to do
to make a living?

-Write.
-Good lord.

If you could do that,
you would be the envy of Chaucer

and Shakespeare, Milton,
and me and all the rest of us.

None of us could do that,
you know.

I'm not planning to be a writer,
sir. I am a writer.

At any given time, Mr. Walton...

Walton.

...the world is teeming
with people

who regard themselves
as writers.

In this country today,

possibly half a dozen
can support themselves

as writers only.

-And the others?
-They teach.

They work on newspapers.
They pick cotton.

They sell second-hand
automobiles.

Then, if there's time
left over...

What about Margaret Mitchell
and Gone With theWind?

That sold almost
half a million copies.

It's only been out four months.

Excellent. Now if you can
give me five others like that.

Edgar Allan Poe could write
rings around all six of them,

and he starved to death
in Baltimore.

At this moment, there are 10,000
unemployed writers on the WPA

getting $95 a month
from the government.

And possibly another 10,000
who are not on the WPA.

Now, if it's good writing
you are thinking about...

Yes, sir. I'm thinking
about serious fiction.

Well, that's not a job.
It's a sideline.

If you want to be an author

and eat two or three times
every day,

there's only one way to do it.

Marry money.

-Hey, Mama.
-John-Boy.

-What do you want?
-Nothing.

-What's the matter with him?
-I don't know.

He's been in a bad mood all day.

-Can I help?
-Can't find the wrench.

Here.

Who are you mad at?

Guess I'm mad at myself.

I'm all thumbs today.
I can't get anything done.

Today's not your best day.

-It's not my best week, either.
-So, you've had a bad week.

To tell you the truth, Liv,

if the whole year was starting
all over again,

I'm not sure I'd want
to go through with it.

-Daddy.
-What's your bad news?

I've been trying to do that
trick of yours, with the coin.

Son, you're using a quarter.

You gotta use a half-dollar,
I keep telling you.

Now watch.

No, no.

Jim-Bob.

Daddy, do you mind
if I practice with this?

Yeah, you practice, Son.

-Hurt your hand?
-No, I didn't.

Well, yeah. Thumb's been
hurting a little.

Probably a touch of
the rheumatism.

I don't have any rheumatism.

That's where it begins on you,
in your thumbs.

Rheumatism is for old people.

Last time I saw Dr. McIvers,

he said young people
can get arthritis, too.

It's certainly
the kind of weather for it.

Arthritis? I can't recollect
hearing that one before.

People nowadays,
you can't hardly turn around

but they've got
some new stylish ailment.

Just way for you to spend your
good hard-earned money.

It's just a new name
for it, Grandma.

If your joints ache,
it's arthritis.

If your shoulder aches,
it's bursitis.

Well, then, why don't
they say what they mean?

They're talking about
rheumatism, aren't they?

-Just plain old rheumatism.
-It is nothing but gout.

I hear all sorts of things like
that are gonna happen to you

when you begin to get old, which
I may do one of these days.

Excuse me.

John Walton! John Walton!
I saw you!

Mrs. Walton, Mr. Walton, Livie,
I have business with that man

and I need you for witnesses.

How are you, Eula Mae?

I have got a burden
on my shoulders

that was meant
for a bigger person than me.

Johnny Walton, now you
come out here right now.

Eula Mae, what are you doing
out here in the country?

Just checking up on my friends
that are too poor

to have a telephone and too
trifling to answer their mail.

-Wish I could help you.
-I wrote you a letter.

You didn't extend the courtesy
of a penny postcard reply.

Now, why is that?

I've been meaning to answer you,
Eula Mae, but

it just keeps slipping my mind.

The 25th anniversary
class reunion

of the Rockfish High School
class of 1911.

Now how can something like that
slip your mind?

To tell you the truth, I'm not
sure I wanna go to that reunion.

To tell you the truth,
Johnny Walton, you're going.

Tell him, Livie.
Tell him he's going.

That's for him to decide,
Eula Mae.

Well, now there's 16 people
that are left out of that class

and eight of them coming home
for the reunion.

I mean, some as far away
as Manchester, Tennessee.

They're bringing their wives,
children, who knows what all.

Now you're not thinking of
sticking me with all that mess.

Now, Eula Mae, there are
other classmates around here.

Now, you get some of them
to help you.

Well, there are. There are two
besides John and me.

I don't think
that's much of a "them."

Especially when
one of them is Martin Renshaw

and the other is Zack Roswell.

I mean, it's getting towards
lean picking.

Fine boys, both of them.

Martin is gonna lend us that big
old house of his and his mama's

and he's gonna give us money if
we don't ask him to participate.

But he's awful bashful.

Nothing bashful
about Zack Roswell.

You don't expect me
to drive my good car

6 miles up that muddy old road.

And that man
is countrier than you are.

I wish I could help you, but I
think I've got rheumatism here.

What it boils down to, John,

is I'm the chairman of the class
reunion, you're the committee.

If that don't suit you, you'll
just have to sit on the blister.

Sit on the blister, huh?

Class of 1911!

I didn't know they had schools
around here in 1911.

they hadn't invented the wheel
yet, but they had a few schools.

Who needs a wheel?

Yeah, we're still
going to school.

I know they had schools
around the time of

President Ulysses S. Grant
because I was in one of them.

I made it out of fourth grade,
my teacher made it out of fifth.

Old man, you've had
a good education.

Stop teasing the children
like that.

Who is teasing?

Grandma, did you go to school?

I've been learning
every day of my life.

Who's gonna be
at the reunion, Daddy?

Everybody who didn't die in the
war or the flu epidemic.

Anyone important
gonna be there?

G.C. Cathcart from Washington,
D.C., ought to be there.

-I guess he will.
-Who's G.C. Cathcart?

Honey, you haven't even
touched those vegetables.

Come on. Eat up a little.

G. Cleveland Cathcart.
We called him Grover for short.

He was always running
neck and neck with John

about anything
that went on in school.

He's in the
Federal Trade Commission.

What was he like
when you all were young, Daddy?

Young.

Let's see, Miss Cathcart
liked to be along with him.

Yeah. Well, if they're
still together.

What was that woman's name?
Willie, huh?

-Winnie.
-You know, the snap beans

are better this season
than they've ever been.

Yeah. Tomato's been good, too.

Must have been all the rain
we've been having.

That was her maiden name,
Winnie Tatum.

You recollect Winnie Tatum,
don't you, Livie?

The vegetables this year are
better than they've ever been.

Don't care if we've any meat.

There's a fellow
at Boatwright

who doesn't eat any meat?
All he eats is vegetables.

I remember Winnie Tatum
very well, Grandpa.

She was what we used to call
a decided blonde.

-Why?
-Why what?

-Why did you call her...
-Would you eat?

A decided blonde?

Because that's the color of hair
she decided to be.

Jason. Zack, now there's
a man that's instrumental.

He likes music. He plays the
fiddle just like you do.

-She was stuck on your daddy.
-He's still got that violin.

I've seen him play it upside
down behind his back.

That's right. He claims he can
play it standing on his head.

-Who was stuck on Daddy?
-Winnie Tatum.

-Thanks anyway, John-Boy.
-Was Daddy stuck on her?

Kind of hard to remember,
I was so young then.

It seems to me he couldn't make
up which one he was stuck on.

The peroxide blonde
or one with the bangs.

-What was her name, John?
-I can't remember all that.

-Maybe there were others.
-Bangs. Rachel Stubblefield.

The name of the one
with the bangs.

She was pretty as a spotted dog
on a red wagon.

She married well, too.

Was it two?
I thought it was three.

Grandpa's right. It was
definitely three for Rachel.

-John?
-Yes, Liv.

Sorry about teasing you at
supper tonight.

I feel kind of bad about it.

You sure you were just teasing?

I'm not jealous
of those old flames of yours.

Well, not as jealous
as I might have sounded, anyway.

It's alright, Liv.
I don't mind.

Where are you going?

I guess I'll go kick me
some weeds.

You've been sort of on edge
today, haven't you?

You're a fine one to talk.
You've been on edge yourself.

Yeah. It's just been one of
those things.

Any one thing in particular?

Yeah, the other day
at the university.

Yesterday, I ran into old
Dr. Porter,

you know, the former president?

He gave me a free lecture
on writing, not as a career.

According to him,
every writer in the world

has had to make his living
doing something else.

And that's not what
you had in mind, huh?

Certainly not the way
I had it planned.

Son, I guess if you've
to do something else,

you'd find a way to do it.

Yeah. From the way he sounded,
no matter which way I work it,

I'm not in much danger
of getting rich.

Let me tell you something.

If you ever get it
into your head to get rich,

there's two kinds of people
that you ought to stay away from

if you want advice
on how to do it.

Really?

One is one-horse
sawmill tenders like me.

The other is professors
like this Dr. Porter.

I'll keep that in mind.

In fact, this Dr. Porter
sounds a little bit like me.

-Guess you get that way.
-How's that?

You know, a man can go for
a long time without

taking the time
to stop and look around.

And when he does, he's apt
to find out he's nowhere.

Just treading water
and getting short of breath.

-What's got you down?
-I don't know.

Maybe it's this reunion.
25 years is a long time.

You stand to see a lot of old
friends, don't you?

I guess you can't avoid that.

What's the matter?
Don't you want to see them?

You know, Son,
they're just not like me.

One of them is always getting
his picture taken with FDR.

The other's getting rich
selling insurance

to people who can't afford it.

There's even a gal who owns a
real-estate office in New York.

Really?

I guess 25 years is a long time.

Especially when it hits
you all at once.

I've spent many a long hard day
on this place.

And nothing to show for it but
what I track home on my shoes.

-Isn't it Zack Roswell?
-It sounds like him.

Would have to be. It's their
car. He must be in it.

He's the only one on earth
fool enough to drive it.

-Zachary.
-Hey, Zack.

-John. John-Boy.
-Hey, Zack.

How's everything up your way?

If things get any better,

I'm gonna be tempted
to break down and cry.

We haven't had a tidal wave up
there, a volcano erupting,

or a yellow fever epidemic
in almost three weeks now.

Zachary,
I hope you're eating well

and putting plenty of money
in the bank.

What we haven't frivoled away

on side-meat and mortgage
payments, sir.

We've been subsisting
right well, Zeb,

these last couple of years
on skim milk and wild onions.

I'm proud that you appear
to be doing so well.

According to some of the papers
that I read,

hard times are going around.

I heard about that it seems
like, on the radio.

A depression, I believe that's
what they call it.

It'd be a pitiful thing
for you to wake up some morning

and find out that you missed out
on the depression altogether.

Well, I try to be patient
and not complain, Mr. Walton,

but that's the way
the world treats me.

See, no matter what's going
around,

I don't get my share till
everybody else has been served.

You might learn to like it.

I've been living on the rim-edge
of poverty for so long

I wouldn't know how to get along
in any other neighborhood.

Things may not be much around
here, but it is home sweet home.

Assist me.

Esther, Esther!
Water, girl. Water.

They treating you well
around here, John-Boy?

They're treating me fine, Zack.

-Don't let them know about it.
-Okay, I won't.

Anything special
on your mind, Zack?

I've been getting some mail from
some old people in Rockfish.

Something
about a school reunion.

I'd answer some of that, Zack.

Eula Mae's gonna put you on the
work gang just like she did me.

I don't rightly know
what to say to her, John.

Only one thing to say,
"Eula Mae, I will be there."

I don't wanna go
to the blamed thing!

It's just a reunion, Zack.

A chance to catch up
on your old childhood buddies.

There's no need
to go through all that again.

I'd rather be in perdition
with my back broke.

It's just about the only way
you're gonna get out of it.

John, I wouldn't feel sociable.

I'd feel kind of tacky
alongside some of those people.

I'll tell you what, you stand
next to me, we'll brazen it out.

Yeah.

Can't go in bib overalls,
brogan shoes. No.

-How about that old black suit?
-That's threadbare.

The cuffs are all frazzled,

the whole suit's turned
a wrong shade of green.

Maybe I ought to go out
and buy myself a new suit.

Where you gonna get the money
for a new suit, Zack?

Well, I'll ask my family.

They're all sitting
around up there,

looking at each other wondering
which one we're gonna eat first.

Henry David Thoreau says
to beware of all enterprises

requiring new clothes.

Oh, he said that, huh?

What else did
Henry David Thoreau say?

Oh, yeah.

He said the mass of men lead
lives of quiet desperation.

John.

If we'd had a David Henry
in high school,

I might have tried a year
or two of college.

Yeah, Henry David and the price
of car fare to get there, Zack.

John?

Yes?

It's Cleveland Cathcart.

Grover Cathcart. How are you?

It's been a long time, John.

-Well, how've you been, Grover?
-Fine, just fine, John.

World treating you alright?

I eat three meals a day,
sleep well.

Well, that's the main thing.

Plenty of work to do. If I ever
forget that, I just look outside

and there it is beckoning to me.

Well, I think that's just
wonderful. I really do.

Livie.

Livie.

Yeah, Grandma?

Isn't that the biggest
Cathcart boy out there?

McKinley
or whatever his name was?

Cleveland?

The one that left home
to join the New Deal.

What's he doing here?

He's doing the same thing
your husband's doing there.

Out there, smiling at each other

and pawing the ground
at the same time.

I tell you, Livie, it's just...

Liv?

Oh, that girl.

I've been reading about you,
Grover. You're doing real well.

I don't have to tell you
that Washington, D.C.,

is not like a Sunday afternoon
in Rockfish.

On the go all the time,
moving around in circles,

very thankless job.

Well, it's a pity Winnie
couldn't come with you.

-How is Winnie?
-Winifred's not here yet.

She stopped in Richmond to visit
her mother for a few nights.

She's not been feeling
very well lately.

Livie, did I ever tell you
about the time those...

John. Why didn't you tell us
we had company?

Grovie, you don't look
a day older.

No, Olivia,
that's a lie and you know it.

Wish we'd known you were coming.
I could have powdered my nose.

-How about a cup of coffee?
-That'd be just fine, John.

Olivia, you're as beautiful
as when you were in school.

I'm surprised you'd even
remember me.

By Monday, it'll have come
and gone and you can get back

to what you were doing.

Yeah. "Leading lives
of quiet desperation."

-What does that mean?
-I don't know.

It's a quotation
your oldest son taught to me.

I'd better talk to him, too.

I feel obliged to say, Olivia,

you're looking
uncommonly pretty these days.

Well, you'll just have to get
used to that, too,

until the reunion's over.

-I'll never get used to it.
-Good.

John-Boy?
Daddy had to go in to Rockfish,

something about
his high school reunion.

Do you knock before you come
slamming into a room or what?

I knocked about 112 times.

Something wrong, or you've just
got your brain turned off?

-Well, I happen to be thinking.
-If I'd known that was going on.

I'm just a mere girl, and we
don't do things like thinking.

It must be hard to get it all
started up again once it stalls.

What are you writing about,
anyhow?

I'm making a list.

Trying to think up writers who
spent their whole life writing,

and they make lots of money
doing it.

Margaret Mitchell,
Gone With the Wind.

Well, of course her.
I've got her, that's obvious.

There's H.L. Mencken,
but he's an editor,

so I don't know about that.

And Faulkner
and F. Scott Fitzgerald,

work in Hollywood, so I don't
know if that counts.

Maybe Thomas Wolfe.

And, of course, Sinclair Lewis,
naturally,

with MainStreet and Babbitt
and Elmer Gantry all in a row.

I'll tell you who makes a lot of
money! Dorothy Dix!

Dorothy Dix!
Advice to the lovelorn?

-And Mary Roberts Rinehart!
-Oh, be serious.

I'm not talking about people
who write murder mysteries.

We're talking about writers
making money, and lots of it.

Mary Roberts Rinehart.

There you are, Helen.

Thank you. See you next week.
Say hello to Tom.

-Hey, old-timer.
-Hello, Martin.

John! Olivia!
How are you?

Can't complain
if they don't pin us down.

I just dropped in to say hello.
I've some chores.

-Where do I pick you up?
-I'll be at Eula Mae's.

If he's not, nobody's ever got
lost in Rockfish yet.

-Bye-bye.
-Bye, honey.

Johnny Walton,
am I glad to see you.

What's the matter? Something
wrong with your mother?

No, she hasn't had a drop
since Decoration Day weekend.

Glad to hear that.

She's out now.

Probably foreclosing
her mortgages all over town.

This place used to be Renshaw
and Son when papa was alive.

Now it's Renshaw and Mother.

Don't let it get you down.

Just think, you could be out
foreclosing those mortgages.

That's not it. It's all this
other stuff that's got me

all tied up in knots.
All this class of 1911 stuff.

Eula Mae been
picking on you, too?

The whole thing is just too much
for me to cope with.

I wouldn't have gone to school

if I'd known this was gonna
happen!

Martin, don't worry about it.

Everything is cut, stacked,
and dried.

There's nothing to worry about.

That's well enough
for you to say.

Eula Mae's gonna
keep everybody in line

until
after your mother's dinner,

and then you and me can sit back
and relax another 25 years.

You've got to help me, Johnny.

Alright.
What do you want me to do?

If you can. It's...

Well, it's about
the class dinner, Sunday.

Eula Mae says it's my house,
and I'm the host.

I've gotta get up
and stand there

in front of all those people
and ask the blessing.

Alright, I'll tell you what.

I'll make sure
you don't say grace

even if I have to say it myself,
alright?

From the first grade on, not
once have you ever let me down.

Alright, Martin.

Eula Mae...

You know,
you're a handsome devil!

Always were.

Rachel Stubblefield?

Come on in.

Honey, in New York City,
in East Side real estate,

a girl would have
to be awfully chic to get away

with a name like
Rachel Stubblefield.

Is that so?

Up there it's Rae.

Rae Stubblefield Wingfield
Galitzinoff Chester.

Sit down here
where I can look at you.

All those names mean you've been
married that many times, Rachel?

That middle one
was a Russian prince.

I'm paying alimony
in four directions.

For three husbands?

Two husbands and two wives.

My son Charles
has been married twice so far.

Only he's only 22.

You got any others?

A daughter in school in
Switzerland,

and we won't go into that.

A son at
Stone Mountain Military Academy,

if he hasn't escaped
since last Sunday.

Oh, well.

-Where's Eula?
-She'll be down,

if she ever gets off the phone.

What have you been up to,
since Taft was president?

I've just been trying
to make a living

running a little
back-country sawmill.

Most it does is keep me
out of mischief.

Sooner or later
something had to, John.

You weren't so bashful
around girls in those days.

Well, now, Rachel... I don't
know what you're talking about.

I was never, what you call,
forward.

Listen to him, Lord!

It's a miracle
we ever got engaged.

That's right, we did, didn't we?

All through seventh grade
and all through first year high.

One-woman man.

Except, the girls kept changing.

-Oh, stop blushing.
-Blushing...

You married that little girl,
the timid one,

with the long braids
and the Italian name.

-Right, Olivia. I sure did.
-Kids?

Four boys and three girls.

Well!

-I guess that takes care of her.
-She's busy, that's a fact.

It's been one thing
after another all day long.

Why don't you leave
the phone off the hook?

Then things really would start
happening.

Thank goodness you're here,
John Walton.

Tell me what you
want done, Eula Mae.

Well, now...

Eula Mae? You home?

Sounds like my wife.

Honey, guess what?
Rachel Stubblefield is here!

Well, isn't that nice.

B.C. Graddy from Danville,
Virginia.

Anything you care to know about
insurance, I write more of it

than anybody else in
Pennsylvania county,

I don't care who!

Graddy's the name,
insurance is my game.

-My wife, Viola.
-John Walton, Jr.

I reckon you're here
for the reunion.

What do you think I drove all
the way from Danville for?

Melvin!
Do you want a whopping?

Me and your daddy
have been buddies

since we was both knee-high
to the bottom doorstep.

I expect you've heard him
speak of old B.C.?

Viola! Do something
with them children!

They don't listen to me!
You're their daddy!

I'm so aggravated
I could stomp all of them

through the bottom
of the floorboard.

B.C., let's light somewhere!

A hotel, a boarder port,
anywhere!

Hey!

B.C. Junior!

You aiming to kill
that poor thing?

B.C. Junior!

Now, cut that out!

Melvin, you and Ernestine!

Viola, I'm talking to you.
Do something!

Melvin, you want to end up
in the state pen?

I'm trying! But they don't pay
me no never you mind!

I can't hear myself thinking!

I'm gonna take off my belt

and flay the living fire
out of all of you.

Now what line were you
figuring on getting into, son?

Writing.

-Writing?
-Yes.

You know,
things for people to read.

Well, I expect
that beats farming.

I met a man one time who was
in the paper clip business.

Really? Listen, I'll tell
my daddy you came by

looking for him, alright?

-Much obliged.
-My pleasure.

No more shoving out...

-Get them kids in the car.
-Get in the car!

I'm tired of fooling with you
all, a bunch of apes!

-Get in that car!
-Get down! I'm tired of this.

Be quiet!

Melvin!

From Boatwright University.

-Must be important.
-Not this time of the year.

Ten thousand what?

I said, 10,000 what?

Ten thousand unemployed writers
in this country today.

Well, that's silly.

What's silly
about 10,000 unemployed writers?

Just because you're 19 years old

doesn't mean
everybody else is dumb.

I never said you were dumb.

The way you tell it,
a writer's somebody

who thinks things up and puts
them on paper.

What's that got to do
with anything?

Somebody like that is working
for himself, isn't he?

Of course he is.
He has to work for himself.

If he's working for himself,
how can he be out of a job?

Come on, Blue.

-Right on time.
-Give me a hand, John?

Yeah.

You'll have to tell me what I
can do. I don't know what to do.

-Whatever am I gonna do?
-What's happened?

It's not the end of the world!

I'll tell you, that would help.

Now, Eula Mae, we can't lose you
till the day after tomorrow.

Tomorrow? You're gonna have to
just cancel tomorrow.

I mean,
it's Martin Renshaw's mother.

She's gone and had another one
of her spells.

One of her usual spells?

Two days inebriated
and a week drying out?

Mr. Walton, it's worse
than that this time.

She's gone broke her hip. They
can't get her up the stairs.

She's bedded down in the parlor
with a doctor and two nurses,

and hollering obscenities that
I wouldn't even repeat

to my dearest friends.

Her cussing would sure put
a damper on the dinner.

She's peculiar even when she's
sober. Mean, you might say.

-How's Martin taking it?
-You'd have been proud of him.

He really told her.
He said he hoped that the next

time she'd fall and break...

It's supposed
to be a pretty day tomorrow.

And us just standing here.
What are we gonna do, John?

There's still plenty of time.

-Well, me? Why me, Eula Mae?
-Because I can't cope.

And Martin Renshaw never could
cope, people turn to you

-when things go wrong.
-We could do it.

Don't you think we could?
How do you feel about it?

I don't mind telling you,
I'd feel better

if we could've gotten started
this morning, but...

-I suppose...
-What're you two talking about?

Eula Mae, we'd be proud
to have his graduating class

come here for dinner tomorrow.

Olivia, stop and think, please.

John, hush. Eula Mae, you go
home. We got some things to do.

-Wait a minute.
-I'll escort you.

Now wait and listen to me.
Olivia!

-Cocktails, gentlemen?
-Cocktails?

Gee.

This punch is pitiful mild,
John-boy.

Mama says to tell you
it better stay that way, too.

Yeah. That's why they call us
running-water Baptists.

Cocktails?

No thanks, Son. Go ahead, Zack.

-Thank you, John-Boy.
-Welcome.

Smile. Don't you think
you ought to mingle?

I have told you and told you
to look after them young ones.

I've been looking!

-What's the matter, B.C.?
-I'm worried.

I wonder what
the kids are up to.

Usually, when they're this
quiet, it ain't good.

I think grandpa's got them
buffaloed somewhere over there.

I get the whole dasher, now?

I don't have to share
with anybody?

-Not unless you break the spell.
-I wanna go look at the party.

Well, don't let my grandpa see
you. He might still be hungry.

I don't believe your granddaddy
eats kids at all.

Well, I didn't say
he eats all of them.

Just the wild ones, B.C. Junior.

And the ones that
makes a lot of noise.

-Boy! He was looking at me.
-That old man don't scare me.

I'm one of them quiet ones.

I gotta hand it to you, Johnny.

This party is the highlight of
the whole reunion.

Olivia will be happy
to hear that.

If you wanna get rid of
the sweet taste

Zack knows where
the jug is buried.

Don't let Olivia know
where that jug is buried.

Cleve, I'm so sorry
Winnie couldn't make it.

Well, you know how it is,
Rachel.

She hasn't been
in the best of health.

Still, she shouldn't let
a good-looking thing like you

go wandering around
the world alone.

Rachel, what's wrong
with Winnie?

Honey, she's got an incurable
disease called hypochondria.

Enjoys poor health
wherever she can find it.

Seems to take her mind
off other things.

-That's terrible.
-It is.

Besides, she's missing the best
party of the whole season.

-Pass the butter.
-Pass the punch.

-You got little...
-It's really good.

Look how perfect it is.

-Not that I just can't...
-You need some butter?

Let's have our own reunion, huh?

B.C. Junior, now eat.

Stop that.

How come we have to eat in here
and they get to eat out there?

There's been a mistake.
The committee will rectify it.

Who did you go to
school with, grandpa?

Me? Oh, with various people.

There was Captain John Smith
and Pocahontas

and then there was Esther.

Erin, what about Jason
and the musicians?

When are they expecting to eat?

I don't know, Grandma,
I called them three times.

Jason'll stay and play as long
as people will listen to him.

Yeah, well, he gets that
from his grandpa.

Look at that.

Yes?

-Everything alright?
-Sure, fine.

Why did you leave the party?

I didn't think anybody would
miss me. You enjoying it?

Some.

All those people.
All those years.

-Makes you wonder.
-You don't sound happy about it.

What you got there?

It's a letter from old
Dr. Porter down at Boatwright.

-Didn't have a chance to read.
-No bad news, I hope.

No, no.
It's a very nice little note,

sort of easing back on that
conversation

that I had with him
a couple of days ago,

about poor writers, you know,
including himself, he says here.

Anyway, he enclosed this
interview with Sinclair Lewis.

You know Sinclair Lewis? He's an
American writer with integrity.

He's the first American writer
to win the Nobel Prize.

-I heard of him.
-Anyway, he's in this interview.

He was determined from the age
of 11 years old to be a writer.

And he says he even worked
on a small hometown newspaper

for no money at all
when he was a little fellow.

There's a part here. I'd...
Can I read it to you?

Sure.

Now, he's talking about writing.

He says, "It's a good job, and
not for gold

"would I recommend it as a
career

"to anyone who cared a hoot
for the rewards,

"for the praise, for the prizes,

"for the embarrassment of being
recognized in the restaurants,

"or for anything at all,
save the secret pleasure

"of sitting in a frowsy dressing
gown before a typewriter,

"exulting in the
small number of hours

"when the words come
invigoratingly out

"and the telephone doesn't ring,
and lunch may go to the devil."

I don't know much about frowsy
bathrobes or words coming out.

I think I know
what that fellow's getting at.

I kind of thought you would.

-Let's get back to the party.
-Alright.

You know, being able to look
across the lawn

and seeing a writer
sitting over there,

may make some sense
out of these 25 years of living.

Honestly, I wish somebody

could find a copy
of the class yearbook.

-Did we even have one?
-Of course we did.

I remember writing
the class history.

That's right and John Walton
had to read it for you

at commencement,
'cause you was too bashful.

It was a limited edition of 25
copies, I think it was.

I ran it off myself on the
Edison mimeograph machine.

I remember on graduation day
I kept saying to myself,

"You've gotta be happy, this is
the beginning of everything."

And then another part of me kept
saying, "Oh, boy, you've had it.

"It's downhill from now on."

I laughed and cried
that whole day long.

It all turns out,
no matter what you do.

Yeah, it all
turns out alright,

but not always
the way that you planned it.

Hey, who was class prophet?
Would anybody remember?

-Hermine Willebrant.
-Right.

-Yeah.
-And you remember

-the senior superlatives?
-Not really. No, I don't.

I remember that the biggest
bull shooter was Zack Roswell.

Time sure does change people,
don't it, huh?

-No!
-No, it doesn't.

And I remember the most original
girl was Ethel Barnsdale.

And the most original boy,
Grover Cathcart.

-Prettiest girl, Winnie Tatum.
-Yeah.

Biggest heartbreaker,
Rachel Stubblefield.

Who was the biggest
heartbreaker boy?

That was me.

Rachel, I remember,

that you were also voted
the girl most likely to succeed.

At what?
Eula Mae, don't answer that.

The boy most likely to succeed,
who was that?

Who was that?

The boy most likely to succeed
was John Walton.

-I would've sworn it was Grover.
-No, it was John.

If anybody would
remember that, it's me.

-Why, Grover?
-That's the way it always was.

Six years in grade school,
five years in high school,

everything I ever ran for,

I was always running against
the same Johnny Walton.

-Isn't that right?
-If you say so, Grover.

Boy, the greatest day
of my life was

when I beat John Walton out
for senior class president.

I don't think he ever lost any
sleep over it.

Now, I'm an ambitious man,
some would say successful,

and probably
it's all John's fault.

I was always running,

and he was always
going past me at a walk.

And here it is 25 years later,

here I am, and there is John.

Then look at me,
and some of you,

still running.

Still wearing ourselves to a
frazzle

for all sorts of things that
John Walton has accumulated

while he was out walking.

A warm, happy home.

Fine wife and children.

We're sitting here well-fed
at John's table,

and I'm still boy enough to be
graveled at the sight of him.

Maybe if you saw as much of him
as we do, Grover.

We've gotten used to him.

John, the boy most likely
to succeed.

Well, he's the boy that did.

Hell's bells. Things sure are
going to the dogs when a man

can't sit down to a free meal
without longwinded speeches.

Now, I don't have a mind to
badmouth John, but fair's fair.

-John married lucky.
-Now come on, it wasn't luck.

I picked her out myself,
didn't I?

That's the luck part.

Everybody at this
here table knows

that you weren't smart enough
to pick one like that.

* Smile the while *

* You kiss me sad adieu *

* When the clouds roll by *

* I'll come to you *

* Then the skies *

* Will seem more blue *

* Down in Lover's Lane,
my dearie *

* Wedding bells *

* Will ring so merrily *

* Every tear *

* Will be a memory *

* So wait *

* And pray each night for me *

* Till we meet again *

* Smile the while *

* You kiss me sad adieu *

* When the clouds roll by *

* I'll come to you *

* Then the skies
will seem more blue.. **

Success is often measured
in terms of how much money

or fame one accumulates
in a lifetime.

My father knew
little of either,

yet, he was the most successful
man I have ever known.

He lived each day with zest,
a sense of adventure,

and a twinkle in his eye.

He loved his family well
and we miss him.

-Mama?
-Yes, Elizabeth?

I never did get it
figured out today.

Which one was stuck on Daddy?

It looked to me like they were
all kind of stuck on him.

I've always heard tell it's them
quiet ones you've got to watch.

John?

I'll be along, Liv.

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