Original subtitles

[music playing]

The name of our town is Grover's Corners,

New Hampshire.

It's just across the line from Massachusetts.

Latitude is 42 degrees, 40 minutes.

Longitude is 70 degrees, 37 minutes.

Running right through the middle of the town is Main Street.

Cutting across Main Street on the left

is the railroad tracks.

Beyond the railroad tracks is Polish Town-- you know,

foreign folks who come here to work in the mills,

a couple of Canuck families, and the Catholic Church.

You can see the steeple in the Congregational Church.

The Presbyterian is just across the street.

The Methodist and the Unitarian are up a block.

The Baptist Church is down in the hollow, by the river.

Next to the post office is the town hall.

Jail's in the basement.

Bryan once made a speech right from those ruddy steps.

It's a nice town, you know what I mean?

Nobody very wonderful ever come out of it, so far as we know.

The earliest dates up there on the tombstones

up there in the cemetery say 1670.

There, Grovers and Cartwrights and Gibbs and Percys,

same names as you find around here now.

First, we'll show you a day in our town--

not as it is today in the year 1940,

but as it used to be in the year 1901.

All right, operator.

Let's start.

[gentle music]

Yes, sir.

That's the way our town looked back in the year 1901.

Along Main Street there's a row of stores

with hitching posts and horse blocks in front of them.

The first automobile is going to come along in about five years.

The date is June 7, 1901.

It's just before dawn.

[rooster crows]

Yeah, just about.

The sky is already beginning to show some streaks of light

in it, over there in the east, back of our mountain.

The morning star gets wonderful bright

the moment before it has to go.

The only lights on in the town are in a cottage

over in Polish Town where a mother

is just giving birth to twins.

And down in the depot, where Shorty

Hawkins is just getting ready to flag the 5:45 for Boston.

[train whistle]

There she is now.

Of course, naturally, out in the country all around,

there have been lights on for some time,

what with milking and so on.

But townsfolks sleep late.

Here comes Joe Crowell, delivering the morning papers.

So, another day's begun.

Here comes Doc Gibbs from that baby

case I was telling you about.

And this is Doc Gibbs' house.

His neighbor is Editor Webb.

There's Mrs. Gibbs coming downstairs to get breakfast.

Later on, about 1910, she's going out to visit her daughter

Rebecca in Canton, Ohio.

Mrs. Gibbs is going to die there, pneumonia.

But she's going to be brought back here.

She's going to be buried in the cemetery,

right here in our town, with a whole mess

of Gibbses and Percys.

In our town, we like to know the facts about everybody.

And there's Mrs. Webb coming downstairs

to get her breakfast too.

Mrs. Webb was a Grover before she married Editor Webb.

Yup.

Children?

Children, time to get up!

George?

Rebecca?

Emily, time to get up.

Wally, it's 7 o'clock.

HOWIE: Whoa, Bessie.

[cat meows]

Morning, Howie.

Morning, Mrs. Gibbs.

-Seems like you're late today. -Yep.

Something was wrong with the separator.

Don't know what it was.

[milk spilling]

There you be.

Thanks, Howie.

[cat meows]

Morning, Mrs. Webb.

Morning, Mr. Newsome.

Mighty fine day.

Yep.

How's Mrs. Newsome?

Good.

Emily!

Wally!

George!

Rebecca!

[horse neighing]

Come on. Get at it.

Bessie, come on.

What's the matter with you?

Oh, they've quit taken milk.

Now, come on.

Morning, Howie.

Come on.

Good morning, Doc.

Bessie acting up?

She's all mixed up about the route

ever since the Lockharts stopped taking a quart of milk a day.

She wants to leave them a quart just the same.

Keeps scolding me the whole trip.

Somebody sick?

Twins over at Mrs. Goruslawski's.

Oh, twins, huh?

This town keeps getting bigger every year.

Come on.

Now, come on, Bessie.

Morning, Doc.

Morning, Joe.

Want your paper now?

Yeah, I'll take it.

Anybody been sick, Doc?

No.

Twins over in Polish Town.

Joe, I see your teacher Miss Foster's going to get married.

Yes, sir.

To a fellow over in Concord.

Yeah.

How do you boys feel about that?

Well, of course, it ain't none of my business,

but I think if a person starts out to be a teacher,

she ought to stay one.

How's the knee, Joe?

Fine, Doc.

Never think about it at all.

Only like you said, it always tells me

when it's going to rain.

What's it telling you today? Gonna rain?

-No, sir. -Sure?

Yes, sir.

Knee never makes a mistake?

-No, sir. -Ah.

Doc.

Joe.

STAGE MANAGER: Want to tell you something

about that boy, Joe Crowell.

Joe was awful smart.

So he got a scholarship to Boston Tech.

Yes, he was going to be a great engineer, Joe was.

But the war broke out, and he died in France.

All that education for nothing.

Everything all right, Frank?

Yes.

I declare, easy as kittens.

Children, hurry up.

George?

Rebecca?

Bacon'll be ready in a moment.

Sit down and drink your coffee.

You can catch a couple hours' sleep this morning, can't you?

Mrs. Wentworth's coming at 11.

I guess I know what it's about too.

Stomach ain't what it ought to be.

All told, you won't get more than three hours' sleep.

Frank Gibbs, I don't know what's going to become of you.

We should go away someplace and take a rest.

I think it would do you good.

Children, hurry now.

Emily!

Wally!

I declare you'll have to speak to George.

Seems like something's come over him lately.

He's no help to me at all.

Can't even get him to cut me some wood.

Is he sassy to you?

Just whines.

All he thinks about is that old baseball.

George, Rebecca, you'll be late for school.

George!

George, look sharp.

GEORGE: Yes, Pa.

Don't you hear your mother calling you?

I guess I'll go upstairs and catch 40 winks.

Ma!

Ma, what dress should I wear?

MRS. GIBBS: I washed and ironed the blue gingham for you

special.

Oh, Ma, I hate that dress.

MRS. GIBBS: Oh, hush up.

Every day I go to school dressed like a sick turkey.

Why, Rebecca, you always look very nice.

Ma, George is throwing soap at me.

MRS. GIBBS: I'll come up and slap the both of you.

That's what I'll do.

Hurry up, children.

It's after 7 o'clock, and I don't want to call you again.

Ma.

Children.

Children, now, I won't have it.

Breakfast is just as good as any other meal,

and I won't have you gobbling like wolves.

It'll stunt your growth.

That's a fact.

Wally, put your book away.

Oh, Ma.

By 10 o'clock, I gotta know all about Canada.

You know the rules as well as I do.

No books at table.

As for me, I'd rather have my children healthy than bright.

Well, I'm both, Mama.

You know I am.

I'm the brightest girl in school for my age.

I have a wonderful memory.

Eat your breakfast.

Well, I'll have to speak to your father about it

when he's rested.

It seems to me like $0.25 a week is enough for a boy your age.

I declare, I don't know how you spend it all.

Oh, Ma, I got a lot of things to buy.

Strawberry phosphates.

That's what you spend it on.

Well, I don't see how Rebecca comes to have so much money.

She's got more than $1.

I've been saving it up gradually.

Well, dear, I think it's a good thing

to spend some now and then.

Ma, do you know what I like most in the world?

Do you?

Money.

MRS. WEBB: Eat your breakfast.

[school bell]

That's first bell.

I gotta go.

Yes, Wally.

Bye, children.

BOTH: Bye, Mama.

[interposing voices]

Now, walk fast, but you don't have to run.

Wally, pull up your pants at the knee.

Rebecca, give Miss Foster my best congratulations.

Can you remember that? -Yes, ma'am.

MRS. GIBBS: Rebecca, pick up your feet.

Here, chick, chick, chick, chick, chick.

Oh, fight, fight, fight, that's all you do.

Oh, where did you come from?

You don't belong to me.

What you so scared of?

Nobody's going to hurt you.

Morning, Julia.

Morning, Myrtle.

How is your cold?

Oh, still got that tickling feeling in my throat.

Told Charles I didn't know if I'd

go to choir rehearsal tonight.

Ever try singing over your voice?

Yes, but somehow I can't do that and stay on key.

Beans have been good this year.

Let me help you.

I decided to put up 40 quarts if it kills me.

Children say they hate them, but I notice they manage

to get them down all winter.

Myrtle, I've got to tell you something.

If I don't tell somebody I'll burst.

Why, Julia Gibbs.

One of those secondhand furniture men from Boston

came to see me last Friday.

At first I thought it was a patient

waiting to see Dr. Gibbs.

But he wormed his way right into my parlor.

Myrtle Webb, he offered me $350 for Grandmother Hershey's

highboy, as I'm sitting here.

Well, you're going to take it, aren't you?

I don't know--

You don't know? $350?

Well, what's come over you?

Well, if I could get the doctor to take the money

and go away someplace on a trip, I'd sell it like that.

You know, it's always been the dream of my life to see Paris,

France.

Crazy, I suppose.

For years, I've been promising myself,

if we ever had the chance...

How does Doctor feel about it?

Well, I did beat about the bush a little

said if I ever got a legacy-- that's the way I

put it-- I'd make him take it.

What'd he say?

You know how he is.

Haven't heard a serious word out of him since I've known him.

No, he says.

It might make him discontented with Grover's Corners

to go traipsing over Europe.

No, let well enough alone, he says.

Well, if that secondhand man is real serious about buying it,

you sell it to him.

And you'll get to see Paris.

Just drop a hint from time to time.

That's how I got Mr. Webb to take me to see

the Atlantic Ocean, you know.

I'm sorry I mentioned it.

But it seems to me once in your life before you die,

you ought to see a country where they don't speak in English

and don't even want to.

(Narrator) That'll do, ladies.

Thank you very much.

Now we'll skip a few hours.

Now, before we get on, I think we ought to have a little more

information about the town-- kind of a scientific account,

you might say.

So I've invited Professor Willard of our State University

to come here and kinda sketch in a few details

of our past history.

There he is now.

Am I late?

Right on time.

May I introduce Professor Willard

of our State University?

Now, just a few brief words, Professor.

Unfortunately our time is limited.

Yes.

Let me see.

Grover's Corners.

Grover's Corners lies on the old Pleistocene Granite

of the Appalachian Range.

I might say that's some of the oldest land in the world.

We're very proud of that around here.

Some highly interesting fossils have been found-- I might say

unique fossils, two miles north of town

in Silas Peckham's cow pasture.

These may be seen in the museum of the university at any time.

Well, that is, at any reasonable time.

Shall I tell them about the meteorological conditions,

the mean precipitation, et cetera?

I'm afraid we won't have time for that, Professor.

We might have a few words about the history of man here,

though.

Oh, anthropological data.

Yes.

Let's see.

Early Amerindian stock, Cotahatche tribes.

No evidences before the 10th century of this era, now

entirely disappeared.

Possible traces in three families.

Migration in the early 17th century of English

brachycephalic blue eyed stock and since then

some Slav and Mediterranean. And--

And the-- the population, Professor.

Within the town limits, 2,640.

The-- oh, is that so?

In that case, the population at the moment is 2,642.

The postal districts bring in 507 more,

making a total of 3,149.

Mortality, birth rates constant.

By MacPherson's gauge, 6.032.

Thank you very much, Professor.

I'm sure we're all very much obliged to you.

Not at all, sir. Not at all.

Move on.

Good day.

And now the social and political report.

Oh, Editor Webb?

Mr. Webb?

Charlie Webb's the father of Wally and Emily.

Emily is the smart girl with the good memory.

You know, we saw her at breakfast.

All right, Editor Webb.

It's your turn now.

Well, I don't have to tell you that we're run

here by a board of select men.

All males vote at the age of 21.

Women vote indirect.

Politically, we're 86% Republican,

12% Democrat, 4% Socialist.

The rest, indifferent.

Religiously, we're 85% Protestant, 12% Catholic.

The rest, indifferent.

Very ordinary town if you ask me,

but our young people here seem to like it well enough.

Lots of them settle down right here

to live, even after they've been away to college.

Now, is there anybody in the audience

who'd like to ask Editor Webb any questions about our town?

AUDIENCE: Is there much drinking in Grover's Corners?

Well, ma'am, I wouldn't know what you call much.

Saturday nights, the farmhands meet down at Ellry Goona’s stabl

and holler some.

We've got one or two town drunks,

but they're always having remorses every time

an evangelist comes to town.

No, I'd say that liquor wasn't a regular thing in the home

here, except in the medicine chest.

Right good for snake bites, you know.

Always was.

AUDIENCE: Mr. Webb?

Yes?

AUDIENCE: Mr. Webb, is there any culture or love

of beauty in Grover's Corners?

Well, no, ma'am.

Not much.

That is, in the sense you mean.

There are some girls that play the piano over

at the high school commencement, but they ain't happy about it.

No, there ain't much culture-- "Robinson Crusoe"

and the Bible and Handel's "Largo."

We all know that.

And Whistler's Mother.

That's about as far as we go.

STAGE MANAGER: Thank you very much, Mr. Webb.

AUDIENCE: Is there no one in town aware--

I'm sorry, but we haven't time for any more questions.

We must be getting on with the picture.

It's getting on in the afternoon.

All 2,642 have had their dinners.

All the dishes have been washed.

There's an early afternoon calm about the town.

Charlie Webb is going home to mow his lawn.

One man in 10 thinks it's a privilege

to push his own lawn mower.

The afternoon session of school is over.

Doc Gibbs is in his office, tapping

people and making them say ah.

Ah.

I can't, Julie.

I have to go home and help my mother.

I promised.

Emily, walk simply.

Who do you think you are today?

Oh, Papa, you're terrible.

One minute, you tell me to stand up straight,

and the next minute, you call me names.

I just don't listen to you.

[kisses him]

Golly.

I never got a kiss from such a great lady before.

Hello, Emily?

Hello.

You made a fine speech in class today.

Well, I was really ready to make a speech on the Monroe

Doctrine, but at the last minute,

Miss Foster made me talk about the Louisiana Purchase instead.

I worked an awful long time on both of them.

Gee, it's funny, Emily.

From my window up there, I can see

your head nights when you're doing your homework

over in your room.

Why, can you?

You certainly do stick to it, Emily.

I don't see how you can sit still that long.

I guess you must like school.

Well, I feel it's just something

you have to go through.

What do you think, Emily?

We might work out a kind of telegraph

from your window to mine, and you

could give me a hint every once in a while

on all those algebra problems.

Well--

Oh, I don't mean the answers, Emily.

Of course not.

I mean, just some little hint.

Well, I think hints are allowed.

So-- if you get stuck George, just whistle to me,

and I'll give you some hints.

Gosh, you're just naturally bright, I guess.

Well, I-- I figure it's just the way a person is born.

Yeah.

But you see, well, I want to be a farmer.

And my Uncle Luke says, whenever I'm ready, why, I can

come over and work on his farm.

And if I'm any good at all, why, I can just gradually have it.

You mean the house and everything?

Oh, yeah.

Well, I guess I better be getting

off to the baseball field.

Thanks for the talk, Emily.

Afternoon, Mrs. Webb.

Hello, George.

So long, Emily.

So long, George.

MRS. WEBB: Emily, what you doing?

Nothing, Mama.

MRS. WEBB: Since you're doing nothing, you can come in here

and help me with this yarn.

Well, George Gibbs let himself have a real conversation,

didn't he?

He's grown up.

How old would George be?

Oh, I don't know.

Let's see.

He must be around 17.

Mama, I made a speech in class today.

I was very good.

You must recite it to your father at supper.

What was it about?

The Louisiana Purchase.

It was like silk off a spool.

I'm going to make speeches all my life.

You're holding it too tight, Emily.

That's better.

Mama?

Hm?

Will you answer me a question, serious?

Seriously, dear.

Not serious.

Seriously, will you?

Of course I will.

Mama, am I good looking?

Of course you are!

Both my children have gotten good features.

I'd be ashamed if they hadn't.

Oh, Mama, that's not what I mean.

What I mean is, am I pretty?

I've already told you yes.

Now, that's enough of that.

You've got a nice, young, pretty face.

Never heard such foolishness.

Oh, Mama, you never tell us the truth about anything.

I am telling you the truth.

Mama, were you pretty?

Yes, I was, if I do say it.

I was the prettiest girl in town next to Mamie Cartwright.

Oh, but Mama, you've got to say something about me.

Am I pretty enough to get anybody?

Well, to get people interested in me?

Emily, you make me tired.

Now, stop it.

You're pretty enough for all normal purposes.

It's evening.

You can hear the choir practicing

at the Congregational Church.

The children are all home, doing their schoolwork.

The day is running down like a tired clock.

[singing]

All right, that's better.

But it ain't no miracle.

Now, do it again.

And remember, ladies, music come into the world

to give pleasure.

Now, try it again.

[singing]

Softer!

Softer!

Now listen, everybody, get it out of your minds

that music's only good when it's loud.

You leave loudness to the Methodists.

You couldn't beat them, even if you wanted to.

Once again now.

Art thou weary?

Art thou languid?

It's a question, ladies and gentlemen.

Make it talk.

Oh, and remember.

On Sunday, take the second verse real soft.

Sort of die out at the end.

Ready?

[singing]

Psst, Emily.

Oh, hello.

Hello.

I can't work at all.

The moonlight's so terrible.

Emily, did you get the third problem?

Which?

The third.

Well, yes, George.

That's the easiest of them all.

I don't see it.

Emily, could you give me a hint?

Well, I'll tell you one thing.

The answer's in yards.

In yards?

What do you mean?

Square yards.

Oh, square yards.

Well, yes, George.

Don't you see?

Yeah.

Square yards of wallpaper.

Oh, I see.

Square yards of wallpaper.

Thanks a lot, Emily.

You're welcome.

My.

Isn't the moonlight terrible?

I think if you hold your breath, you can hear the train

all the way to Contoocook.

Hear it?

Well, what do you know?

Well, I guess I'd better get back now and try to work.

Good night, Emily.

Good night, George.

MR. GIBBS: Oh, George.

Could you come down a minute?

Yes, Pa.

Make yourself comfortable, George.

I'll only keep you a minute.

George, how old are you?

Me?

Oh, I'm past 17.

What do you want to do after school's over?

You know, Pa.

I want to be a farmer on Uncle Luke's farm.

And you'll be willing, will you, to get up early

and milk and feed the stock?

And you'll be able to hoe and hay all day?

Sure I will.

What do you mean, Pa?

Well, George, when I was here in the office today,

I heard a funny sound.

What do you think it was?

It was your mother chopping wood.

Now, there you see your mother getting up early, cooking meals

all day, washing and ironing.

And yet she has to go out in the backyard and chop wood.

I suppose she got tired asking you.

I suppose she just gave up and decided

it was easier to do it herself.

Yet,

You eat her meals.

You put on the clothes she keeps nice for you.

Then you run out and play baseball,

like she was a hired girl we kept around the house

but didn't like very much.

[sniffling]

I knew all I had to do was call it to your attention.

[sniffling]

Here's a handkerchief, son.

I wonder what's happened to your mother.

Choir practice never was as late as this before.

It's only half past 8:00, Pa.

I don't know what she wants in that choir anyway.

She hasn't got any more voice than an old crow.

Traipsing around the street, this hour of the night.

Just about time you retired, don't you think, George?

Yes, Pa.

My, it's late.

Real nice choir practice, wasn't it?

Myrtle Webb, look at that moon.

Potato weather, sure.

Well, naturally, I didn't want to say a word about it

in front of those others, but now we're alone, really,

it's the worst scandal that ever was in this town.

What?

Why, Simon Stimson.

Now, Louella!

But Julia, to have the organist of a church drink.

And drunk year after year.

Louella!

Julia, you know he was drunk tonight.

Now, Louella!

We all know about Mr. Stimson, and we all know about

the troubles he's been through.

And Dr. Ferguson knows too.

And if Dr. Ferguson is willing to keep him on in his job

there, the only thing the rest of us can do

is just not to notice it.

Not to notice it?

But it's getting worse.

No, it ain't, Louella.

It's getting better.

I've been in that choir twice as long as you have,

and it doesn't happen anywhere near so often.

Oh, my.

I hate to go to bed on a night like this.

Well, good night, Louella.

Good night.

Good night, Julia.

Good night, Myrtle.

You can get home all right, Louella?

Oh, it's bright as day.

I can see Mr. Soames scowling at the window now.

You'd think we'd been to a dance the way the men folk carry on.

Good night, Julia.

Good night, Louella.

See you on Sunday.

See you then.

Well, we had a real good time.

You're late enough.

Frank, it ain't any later than usual.

You stopping to gossip with a lot of hens.

Now, don't be grouchy.

Smell my heliotrope.

What'd you do all the time I was away?

Oh, I read as usual.

Well, what did the girls gossip about tonight?

Believe me, Frank, there's something to gossip about.

Simon Stimson?

Far gone, was he?

Oh, worst I've ever seen.

Frank, how's all that going to end?

Dr. Ferguson can't forgive him forever.

I guess I know Simon as well as anybody in this town.

Some people just ain't made for small town life.

I don't know how that'll end.

But there's nothing we can do but leave it alone.

Get in.

Oh, no.

Not yet.

Frank, I'm worried about you.

What are you worried about?

Well, I think it's my duty to plan for you to get a real rest

and change.

And if I get that legacy, I'm going to insist upon it.

Now, now, Julia.

There's no sense in going all over that again.

Come on, it's getting late.

First thing you know, you'll catch a cold.

I gave George a piece of my mind tonight.

I reckon you'll get your wood chopped, for a little while

anyway.

You know, Frank, Mrs. Fairchild always locks

her front door every night.

All the people up in that part of town do.

All getting too citified.

That's the trouble with them.

They haven't got a thing fit to burgle, and everybody knows it.

Good e vening, Constable.

Evening, Mr. Webb.

Quite a moon.

Yeah.

All quiet tonight?

Simon Stimson is rolling around a little.

I just saw his wife moving out to hunt for him.

So I looked the other way.

There he is now.

Good evening, Simon.

Good evening.

Most of the town is settled down for the evening.

I guess we better do the same.

Can I walk along with you?

[dischordant music]

Good night.

I wonder how that's going to end.

Oh, Bill, if you see my boy smoking cigarettes,

you have a word to him, will you?

He thinks a lot of you, Bill.

I don't think he's smoking those cigarettes, Mr. Webb.

Leastways not more than two or three a year.

Well, I hope not.

Good night, Bill.

Good night, Mr. Webb.

Who's that out there?

Is that you, Myrtle?

No, it's me, Papa.

Why aren't you in bed?

I don't know.

I just can't sleep yet, Papa.

The moonlight's so wonderful, and-- the smell

of Mrs. Gibbs' heliotrope.

Can you smell it?

Mm, yes.

Haven't any troubles on your mind, have you, Emily?

Troubles, Papa?

No.

Well, don't let your mother catch you.

Good night, Emily.

Good night, Papa.

I never told you about that letter

Jane Crofut got from her minister when she was sick.

He wrote Jane a letter, and on the envelope,

the address was like this.

It said, Jane Crofut, the Crofut farm, Grover's Corners,

Sutton County, New Hampshire, the United States of America--

What's funny about that?

But listen.

It's not finished.

The United States of America, Continent of North America,

Western Hemisphere, the Earth, the Solar System,

the Universe, the Mind of God.

That's what it said on the envelope.

What do you know?

Yep, and the postman brought it just the same.

What do you know?

Well, three years have gone by.

The sun's come up over 1,000 times.

Summers and winters have cracked the mountains a little bit

more, and the rain's brought down some of the dirt.

Some babies who weren't even born before

have begun talking regular sentences already.

And some folks who thought they were right young and spry

have discovered they can't bound up a fight of stairs the way

they used to without their hearts fluttering a little.

All that can happen in 1,000 days.

Nature's been pushing and contriving in other ways too.

A number of young people fell in love and got married.

Most everybody in the world gets married.

In this town, there aren't hardly any exceptions.

Most everybody climbs into the grave married.

What you've seen was called The Daily Life.

Let's call what you're going to see Love and Marriage.

So it's three years later.

It's 1904.

It's July 7, just after the high school commencement.

That's the time most young people jump up and get married,

as soon as they pass their final examinations in solid geometry

and Cicero's orations.

That's the time most young people think themselves

fitted to get married.

It's early morning again.

Only this time, it's been raining.

It's been thundering and pouring.

I don't know.

It may start in again any moment.

[train whistle]

There's the 5:45 for Boston.

And there's Si Crowell, delivering his papers

like his brother before him.

And there's Mrs. Gibbs.

And Mrs. Webb, coming downstairs to get breakfast,

just as though this were an ordinary day.

I don't have to point out to the women in the audience

that both these ladies they see before them,

both these ladies have been cooking three meals a day,

one of them for 21 years and the other for 25,

and never took a summer vacation.

They've raised two children apiece,

washed, cleaned the house, and never had a nervous breakdown.

And here comes Howie Newsome and Bessie delivering the milk.

Morning, Howie!

Morning, Si.

Anything in the paper I ought to know?

Nothing much, except for losing about the best baseball pitcher

Grover's Corners ever had.

George Gibbs, huh?

I don't see how he could give up a thing

like that just to get married.

Would you have, Howie?

Can't say.

Never had no talent that way.

But in '95, we had a player, Si, that even George

Gibbs couldn't have touched.

Name of Hank Todd.

But he went down to Maine to become a parson.

Wonderful ballplayer.

Si.

Howie.

[cat meows]

Morning, Mrs. Gibbs.

Morning, Howie.

Ah, it's too bad it's so wet, but I

guess it's cleared up for good.

I certain hope it has.

But I have a house full of relations today, Howie.

Looks like I'll need three of milk and two of cream.

Three of milk and two of cream.

My wife says to tell you we hope they'll be happy.

I know they will. -Thanks a lot, Howie.

Tell your wife I hope she gets to the wedding.

Maybe she can.

She'll get there if she can.

Morning, Mrs. Webb.

Morning Mr. Newsome.

I told you four quarts, but I hope you can spare me another.

Yes, and I brought you a pint of cream too.

Mrs. Newsome told me special to tell you as how we hope

they'll both be very happy.

Know they will.

Thank you, Mr. Newsome.

And thank Mrs. Newsome.

We're counting on seeing you at the church.

Yes, we hope to get there all right.

Wouldn't miss that.

Well, Ma, the day's come.

You're losing one of your chicks.

Frank Gibbs, don't you say another word.

I feel like crying any minute.

Sit down, drink your coffee.

Groom's upstairs shaving himself.

Only there ain't very much to shave.

He's whistling and singing like he was glad to leave us,

every now and then saying "I do" to the mirror.

But it don't sound convincing to me.

Honestly, Frank, I don't know how he's going to get along.

I've always arranged his clothes for him,

seen to it that his feet were dry and he had warm things on.

They're too young, Frank.

Emily will never think of those things.

He'll catch his death of cold within a week.

I remember my wedding morning, Julia.

Don't start that, Frank Gibbs.

I was the scaredest young fellow

in the state of New Hampshire.

Thought I'd made a mistake for sure.

And when I saw you coming down the aisle,

I thought you were the prettiest girl I'd ever seen.

The whole trouble was, I'd never seen you before.

There I was, right in the Congregational Church

getting married to a total stranger.

Well, how do you think I felt?

I tell you, Frank, weddings are perfectly horrible things.

Farces, that's what they are.

Made something for you.

Why, Julie Hersey.

French toast.

It ain't hard to make.

Besides I had to do something.

How'd you sleep last night, Julie?

I heard a lot of hours struck off.

I get a shock every time I think of George

setting out as a family man, that great gangling thing.

I tell you, Julie, there's nothing in the world

so terrifying as a son.

A relation between a father and a son

is the dangedst, awkwardest--

Well, mother and daughter is no picnic, I can tell you.

I do.

I do.

I do.

He'll have a lot of trouble, I suppose,

but that's none of our business.

Everybody's got a right to their own trouble.

You know one thing that scared me when I married you?

Go along with you.

I was afraid we didn't have material for conversation more

than would last a few weeks.

[chuckling]

I was afraid we'd run out and have

to eat our meals in silence.

That’s a fact!

Well, you and I have been conversing for 20 years

without any noticeable barren spells.

Good weather, bad weather.

It ain't very choice.

But I always find something to say.

Did you hear Rebecca stirring around up there?

No.

This is the only day of the year when she isn't managing

everyone's affairs up there.

She's hiding in her room, and I have an idea she's crying.

Land's sakes, this has got to stop.

Rebecca!

Rebecca, come and eat your breakfast.

[sniffling]

Good morning, everybody.

Only four more hours to live.

George Gibbs, where are you going?

I'm just stepping across the grass to see my girl.

Now, George, put your rubbers on.

It's been raining torrents.

You don't step out of this house unless you're prepared for it.

Oh, Ma, it's just a step.

You'll catch your death of cold and cough all through service.

Aw!

George, do as your mother tells you.

From tomorrow on, you can kill yourself in all weathers.

But when you're in my house, you'll live wisely, thank you.

Maybe Mrs. Webb ain't used to callers at 7 o'clock

in the morning.

Here, have a cup of coffee first.

Be back in a minute!

Good morning, George.

Good morning, Mother Webb.

Goodness, you frightened me.

George, I hate to say it, but you

understand I can't ask you in.

Why not?

You know as well as I do, a groom can't see

his bride on his wedding day, not till he

sees her in church first.

Oh, that's just a superstition.

Good morning, Mr. Webb.

Good morning, George.

You don't believe in that superstition, do you?

There's a lot of common sense in superstitions, George.

Millions have followed it, and don't you be the first to fly

in the face of customs.

How's Emily?

She hasn't waked up yet.

I haven't heard a sound out of her.

Emily's asleep?

Well, no wonder.

We were up till all hours, sewing and packing.

I tell you what I'll do, George.

You sit down here with Mr. Webb for a minute

and drink that cup of coffee, and

I'll run up and see that she doesn't

come down and surprise you.

There's some bacon there.

Now, don't be too long about it.

Well, George, how are you?

Fine, fine.

Mr. Webb, what common sense could there

be in a superstition like that?

Well, George, on the wedding morning,

a girl's head is full of-- well, you know,

clothes and one thing and another.

Don't you think that's probably it?

Well, I--

I guess I never thought of that before.

A girl's apt to be a mite nervous on her wedding day.

Gee, I wish a person could get married without all

that marching up and down.

Every man that's ever lived has felt that way, George.

But it hasn't been any use.

It's the women folks who have built up weddings, my boy.

All those good women standing shoulder

to shoulder, making sure that the knot's

tied in a mighty public way.

But you believe in it, don't you, Mr. Webb?

Yes.

Oh, yes.

Now, don't misunderstand me, George.

Marriage is a wonderful thing.

A wonderful thing.

Don't you forget that, George.

No, sir.

Mr. Webb, how old were you when you got married?

Well, you see, I had been to college,

and I’d taken a little time to get settled.

But Mrs. Webb wasn't much older than what Emily is.

Oh, age hasn't much to do with it, my boy-- that is,

compared with other things.

What were you going to say, Mr. Webb?

Hm?

Oh, I don't know.

Was I going to say something?

George, I was remembering the other night the advice

my father gave to me when I got married.

Yes, he said.

Charles, he said.

Start right off by showing her who's boss.

Best thing to do is to give an order about something,

even if it don't make sense, just so she'll learn to obey,

he said.

Then he said, if anything about her irritates you,

conversation or anything, get right up and leave the house.

That'll make it clear to her.

And oh yes, he said.

Never tell your wife how much money you have.

Never.

Well, I couldn't exactly do--

So I took the opposite of his advice,

and I've been happy ever since.

Let that be a lesson to you, my boy.

Never ask advice of anybody on personal matters.

George, Emily's got to come down and eat her breakfast.

She sends her love, but she don't want to lay eyes on you.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Myrtle, I guess you didn't know about that older superstition.

What do you mean, Charles?

Since the caveman, no bridegroom

should see his father-in-law on the day of the wedding

or near it.

Remember that.

Now, before we get on with the wedding,

I think we should see how it all began, this plan

to spend a lifetime together.

I'm awfully interested in how such big things begin.

You know, you're 21 or 22 and then you're 70.

You've been a lawyer for 50 years.

And the white haired lady beside you has eaten 50,000 meals.

How do such things begin?

Now, George and Emily are going to show you the conversation

they had when they first knew, as the saying goes,

they were meant for one another.

Now, it all happened last year on the way home from school.

George had just been elected president of the senior class,

and Emily had just been elected secretary and treasurer.

Now, you all know how important that is.

Emily, can I carry your books home for you?

Oh, thank you, it isn't far.

Bob, if I'm late, start practice and give

Herb some long high ones.

All right.

Awfully glad you were elected too, Emily.

Thank you.

Emily, why are you mad at me?

Oh, I'm not mad at you.

You've been treating me so funny lately.

Well, since you asked me, I might as well say it right out,

George.

Goodbye, Miss Corcoran.

Emily.

Bye, Miss Corcoran.

George.

What is it?

I don't like the whole change that's

come over you this last year.

I'm sorry if that hurts your feelings,

but I've just got to tell the truth and shame the devil.

Change?

What do you mean?

Well, up to a year ago, I used to like you a lot.

I used to watch you while you did everything.

Because we'd been friends for so long, and-- then

you started spending all your time at baseball,

and you never stopped to speak to anybody anymore.

Not to really speak.

Not even to your own family, you didn't.

And George, it's a fact.

Since you've been captain, you got

awful stuck up and conceited and all the girls say so.

It hurts me to hear them say it, but I have to agree with them

a little because it's true.

Oh, gosh, Emily.

I never thought that such a thing was happening to me.

I guess it's hard for a fella not to have some faults

creep into his character.

I always expect a man to be perfect,

and I think he should be.

Well, I-- I don't think it's possible to be perfect, Emily.

Well, my father is.

And as far as I can see, your father is.

And there's no reason on earth why you shouldn't be too.

I feel that it's just the other way around.

Men aren't naturally good, but girls are.

Well, you might as well know right now that I'm not perfect.

It isn't as easy for a girl to be perfect as a man

because well, we girls are more nervous.

Oh, I'm sorry I said that about you.

I didn't know what made me say it.

Emily--

No, I can see it isn't the truth at all.

And suddenly I feel it isn't important anyway.

Emily, would you like an ice cream soda or something

before you go home?

Thank you.

I would.

Hello, George.

Hello, Emily.

Hello, Mr. Morgan.

Now, what can I do for you?

Why, Emily Webb, what you been crying about?

Well, she got an awful scare, Mr. Morgan.

That-- that hardware store wagon almost ran over her.

Everybody says that Tom Huckins drives like a crazy man.

Well, here.

Let me give you a glass of water.

Gracious, you look all shook up.

Well, I tell you, you've got to look both ways before you

cross Main Street these days.

It's getting worse every year.

What'll you have?

I'll have a strawberry phosphate, Mr. Morgan.

Oh, no, Emily.

Have a soda with me.

Well, I--

Two strawberry ice cream sodas, Mr. Morgan.

Two strawberry ice cream sodas.

Yes.

Yes, sir.

I want to tell you something.

There are 275 horses in Grover's Corners this very moment

I'm talking to you.

State inspector was in here yesterday.

Now with all these automobiles coming along,

looks to me like the only safe place to stay was the home.

Gracious, I can remember the time when a dog would lie out

in the middle of Main Street all day long without anything

coming along to disturb him.

There you are.

Howdy, Mrs. Ellis.

What can I do for you?

Got a prescription.

Yes?

Well, let's see.

It shouldn't take long to fill that.

You just sit down here.

I'll be with you in just a minute.

So expensive.

No, Emily.

Don't you think about that.

We're celebrating our election.

Emily, I want to ask you a favor.

What?

If I go away to State Agricultural College next year,

will you write me a letter once in a while?

I certainly will.

I certainly will, George.

It certainly seems like being away three years,

you'd get out of touch with things.

Maybe letters from Grover's Corners

won't seem so interesting after a while.

Grover's Corners isn't a very important place when

you think of all New Hampshire.

But I think it's a very nice town.

Well, the day wouldn't come when I wouldn't want to know

everything about our town.

Well, I know that's true, Emily.

Well, I'll try to make my letters interesting.

You know, Emily, whenever I meet a farmer,

I ask him if he thinks it's important to go

to agricultural school to be a good farmer.

Why, George!

Yeah, and some of them even say it's a waste of time.

You can get all that stuff anyway in the pamphlets

the government puts out.

Uncle Luke's getting pretty old, and he's about ready for me

to start taking over his farm.

Tomorrow, if I could.

Oh, but George, maybe it's important for you

to go and learn all that about cattle judging

and soils and those things.

Of course, I don't know.

Emily, I'm going to make up my mind right now.

I won't go.

I'll tell Pa about it tonight.

But George, you don't have to decide right now.

It's a whole year away.

Emily, I'm glad you spoke to me about that--

that fault in my character.

Everything you said was right, but there

was one thing wrong with it.

It was when you said I wasn't noticing people.

You, for instance.

You say you were watching me when I did everything.

I was doing the same thing about you all the time.

Why--

Sure, I always thought about you.

You're one of the chief people I thought about.

I always made sure where you’re sitting on the bleachers, who

you were with.

For three days now, I've been trying to walk home with you,

but something always got in the way.

And yesterday, I was standing out by the wall

waiting for you, and I walked home with Miss Corcoran.

Oh, George.

Life's awful funny.

How could I have known that?

I thought--

Emily, I'm going to tell you why I'm not

going to agricultural school.

I think once you found a person you're very fond of,

a person who's fond of you too, likes you well enough to be

interested in your character, I think

that's just as important as college is, and even more so.

That's what I think.

I think it's awfully important too.

Emily?

Yes, George?

Emily, if I do improve and make a big change, would you be--

I mean, could you be--

Why, I am now.

I always have been.

So I guess this is a pretty important

talk we've been having.

Yes.

Yes.

SHOP KEEPER: So long, Mrs. Doris.

Good day.

If you will wait a minute, I'll walk you home.

Mr. Morgan.

Yes?

I'll have to go home to get the money to pay you for this.

Why, George Gibbs, do you mean to tell me that--

But Mr. Morgan, I had a reason.

Look, I'll leave my gold watch with you till I get back.

No, no. You keep your watch, George.

I'll trust you.

But I'll be back in five minutes.

I'll trust you for 10 years, George.

Not a day more, though.

Feeling all right now, Emily?

Oh, yes.

Thank you, Mr. Morgan.

It's nothing.

I'm ready.

Well, now to get on with the wedding.

There's a lot of things to be said about a wedding.

We can't get them all into one wedding, naturally.

Especially not a wedding in Grover's Corners,

where weddings are mighty short and plain.

People think a lot of thoughts during a wedding.

The bride, the groom, the relatives, and the guests.

And even the minister.

Yes, a lot of thoughts go on during a wedding.

MINISTER (VOICEOVER): I've married 200 couples in my day.

M marries N. Millions of them.

The cottage, the go cart , the Sunday afternoon drives

in the country, the first rheumatism, the grandchildren,

the second rheumatism, the death bed, the reading of the will.

Once in 1,000 times it's interesting.

MRS. WEBB (VOICEOVER): I don't know why

on earth I should be crying.

I suppose there's nothing to cry about.

This morning at breakfast, it just come over me.

There was Emily, eating her breakfast

as she's done for 17 years.

She's gone out of my house.

I suppose that's it--

EMILY (VOICEOVER): I never felt so alone in my whole life.

I don't want to get married.

Why can't I stay for a while as I am.

Papa, darling, don't you remember

what you used to say all the time, that I was your girl?

I don't want to get married.

GEORGE (VOICEOVER): OK, I'm gonna get married.

I'm growing up.

I'm getting old.

I don't want to get old, taking on all these responsibilities.

Why is everybody pushing me so?

All I want to do is be a fella.

I'm gonna get married.

Cheer up, Ma.

I'm getting married.

Come on, Ma.

Now, Ma, you save Thursday nights.

Emily and I will be over for supper every Thursday night.

You'll see.

Come on, Ma.

We've got to get ready for this.

Got the ring?

Oh, yes, sir.

Uh-huh.

Come on.

[wedding march]

Such a lovely wedding.

Loveliest wedding I ever saw.

Oh, I do love a good wedding, don't you?

Doesn't she make a lovely bride?

Dearly beloved, we are gathered together

here in the sight of God and in the face

of this company to join together this man and this woman

in holy matrimony.

Don't know when I've seen such a lovely wedding.

I always cry.

I don't know why it is, but I always cry.

I just like to see young people happy.

They're such a lovely couple.

I've never been to such a nice wedding.

I'm sure--

--to love and to cherish, till death you do part,

according to God's holy ordinance, and there

to plight her your troth?

I do.

Do you, Emily, take George to your wedded husband,

to have and to hold from this day

forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer,

in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish till death

you do part, according to God's holy ordinance,

and there to plight him your troth?

I do.

What token does thy give of thy sincerity?

With this ring.

With this ring.

I thee wed.

I thee wed.

For as much as George and Emily have consented together

in holy wedlock and have witnessed the same before God

and this company and have declared the same by giving

and receiving a ring, I pronounce

that they are husband and wife.

Amen.

Forever.

Forever and ever.

[wedding march]

Pay you the first of the month, like usual.

Hey, Howie.

A man his age shouldn't be driving one of those things.

Not when he's got a lot of young fellas to do it for him.

Howie likes to deliver the milk himself,

says he gets the feel of the town that way.

You know, in all these years, he never kept a book.

He carries all the accounts in his head.

I hear he's been doing so well, he's begun locking

his front door at nights.

Afraid of burglars.

Ain't no burglars in this town yet.

No, but Howie's heard about them.

This time, nine years have gone by, friends.

It's the summer of 1913.

Gradual changes in Grover's Corners.

Horses are getting rarer.

Farmers are coming into town now in Fords.

Still, you'd be surprised, though, on the whole.

Things don't change much around here.

This is an important part of Grover's Corners

up here in this hilltop.

Lots of sky, lots of clouds, often

lots of sun and moon and stars.

Certainly a beautiful spot up here.

I often wonder why people want to be buried in Woodlawn

or Brooklyn when they might pass the same time up

here in New Hampshire.

Up here are the old stones-- 1660, 1670.

Strong-minded people who come a long ways to be independent.

Over here are some Civil War veterans.

Iron flags on their graves.

New Hampshire boys.

They had a notion that the union ought to be kept together,

although they'd never seen more than 50 miles of it themselves.

All they knew was a name, friends--

the United States of America.

The United States of America.

And they went and died about it.

This is the new part of the cemetery.

There's Mrs. Soames, who enjoyed the wedding so much, remember?

And there's our friend, Mrs. Gibbs.

Yeah, Doc Gibbs lost his wife three years ago,

just about this time.

And Editor Webb's boy, Wallace, whose appendix burst on a Boy

Scout trip to Crawford Notch.

And there's Mr. Stimson, the organist

at the Congregational Church.

He drank a lot, they used to say.

Hung himself in the attic.

They tried to hush it up, but of course it got around.

He wrote his own epitaph.

It ain't a verse exactly.

It's just a lot of notes.

I wouldn't know what it was.

It was all writ up in the Boston papers at the time, though.

A lot of sorrows kind of quieted down up here too.

All important things, mother and daughter,

husband and wife, enemy and enemy, money and miser.

All those terribly important things.

The earth part kinda burns away.

Burns out.

And what's left?

What's left when memory is gone, and your identity, Mrs. Smith?

Something eternal.

We all know down in our bones that something is eternal,

and that something has to do with human beings.

All the greatest people that have

lived for the past 5,000 years have been telling us that.

And yet you'd be surprised how we lose sight of that fact.

There's something eternal about every human being.

I guess I'm thinking these thoughts today on account

of our friend, Emily.

Another baby's expected down at that happy home we saw started.

It's Emily's second.

There’s a little boy about six years old.

But this time, Emily's pretty sick.

Doc Gibbs is going around these days

with a mighty worried face.

EMILY (VOICEOVER): I want to live.

I want to live.

Who's coming now, Julia?

My daughter in law.

Emily Webb.

What ails her?

Trouble bringing a baby into the world.

MRS. SOAMES: I remember Emily's wedding.

Wasn't it a lovely wedding?

I remember I called on George and Emily at their farm

just before I died.

It's a beautiful farm.

Dear friends, as we gather here in the last tribute

of memory to our loved one--

EMILY: Hello, Mother Gibbs.

MRS. GIBBS: Hello, Emily.

MRS. SOAMES: Hello, Emily.

EMILY: Oh, Mrs. Soames.

WALLACE: Hello, sis!

EMILY: Hello, Wally.

Eternal in the heavens.

EMILY: Mother Gibbs, they're going.

MRS. GIBBS: Yes dear.

EMILY: Father Gibbs is bringing some of my flowers

to you, Mother Gibbs.

Mother Gibbs, I never realized how troubled and sad he looks.

MRS. GIBBS: I loved him so.

EMILY: Father Gibbs?

Father Gibbs?

I'm so tired, Mother Gibbs.

Mother Gibbs, when does this feeling go away?

Of being strange here?

How long does--

Hush, dear.

Just wait.

Be patient.

How do you do, Mr. Stimson?

How do you do, Emily?

Mother Gibbs, George and I have made that farm into just

the best place you ever saw.

We thought of you all the time.

We wanted to show you the new barn

and the great long cement drinking

fountain for the stock.

We bought that out of the money you left us.

I did?

Mother Gibbs, don't you remember?

The legacy you left us.

It was more than $350.

Oh, yes.

Yes.

It won't be the same to George without me.

But it's a lovely farm.

My boy is spending the day at Mrs. Carter's.

Oh, Mr. Carter, my little boy is spending the day at your house.

He is?

Yes.

He loves it there.

Mother Gibbs.

One can go back.

In memory and live each of those days over again.

Why, just then for a moment I was thinking about the farm.

For a moment, I was there.

And my baby was in my arms, as plain as day.

Yes, but when you've been here longer,

you'll realize that our life here is to forget all that.

To think of what is ahead and be ready for what is ahead.

But Mother Gibbs, how can I ever forget that life?

It's all I know.

It's all I have.

One can go back and live all those days over again.

I feel it.

I know it.

You not only live it.

You watch yourself living it.

I'll choose a happy day.

Oh, Emily, it isn't wise.

Really, it isn't.

I'll choose the day I first knew I loved George.

Why should that be painful?

Because it's the happiest days that are the hardest

to relive and to forget.

I must.

I must.

Then choose an unimportant day.

Choose the least important day in your life.

It will be important enough.

I'll choose-- I'll choose--

Yes, Emily.

Think hard.

Remember.

I remember.

I remember.

I remember.

But there's Main Street!

Why, that's Mr. Morgan's drug store before it changed.

And there's the livery stable.

That's the town I knew as a little girl.

And look, there's the old white fence that

used to be around our house.

Oh, I'd forgotten that.

I love it so.

There's Mama coming downstairs to make breakfast.

Mama!

HOWIE: Whoa, Bessie!

Look, there's Howie Newsome.

Why, there's Joe Crowell!

Morning, Howie!

Morning, Joe.

Children?

Emily, Wally, time to get up!

Morning, Miss Webb.

Morning, Mr. Newsome.

It sure is cold.

Yes'm.

Ten below by my barn, Mrs. Webb.

Keep yourself wrapped up, Mr. Newsome.

Yes'm.

Oh, tell Emily many happy returns of the day.

Now I know.

It's my 16th birthday.

EMILY: Mama, I can't find my blue hair ribbon anywhere.

Just open your eyes, dear.

That's all.

I laid it out special for you on the dresser there.

If it were a snake, it'd bite you.

How young Mama looks.

I didn't know Mama was ever that young.

MR. WEBB: Morning, Howie.

HOWIE: Morning, Mr. Webb.

There's Papa.

HOWIE: You're up early.

MR. WEBB: Yeah, I've been back from my old college in New

York State to make a speech.

Any news here?

Yeah, the constable was called up this morning

to rescue a Polish fella.

Darn near froze to death, he was.

I'll put that in the paper.

Morning, mother.

Well, there you are back at last.

How'd it go, Charles?

Oh, fine, I guess.

I told them a few things.

Everything all right here?

Yes.

Can't think of anything that happened special.

Been mighty cold.

Howie Newsome says it's 10 below down at his barn.

Yes, well, it's colder than that at Hamilton College.

Students' ears are falling off.

It ain't Christian.

Paper have any mistakes in it?

MRS. WEBB: None that I noticed.

Well, you can have your coffee when you want it, Charles.

Don't forget, it's Emily's birthday.

Did you remember to get her anything?

I got it right here.

Where's my girl?

Where's my birthday girl?

MRS. WEBB: Don't interrupt her now, Charles.

You can see her at breakfast.

She's slow enough as it is.

I can't bear it.

Why did they ever have to get old?

Mama, I'm here.

I'm grown up.

Oh, I love you all.

Everything.

I can't look at everything hard enough.

Hurry up, children.

It's 7 o'clock.

I don't want to call you again.

Morning, Mama.

Well, now, dear.

A happy birthday to my girl and many happy returns.

Surprises waiting for you on the table there.

Oh, Mama.

You shouldn't have! -I can't.

I can't.

Birthday or no birthday, I want you to eat

your breakfast good and slow.

I want you to grow up and be a good strong girl.

That and the blue package is from your Aunt Carrie.

Good morning.

George!

Good morning, George.

I brought this over for your birthday, Emily.

Many happy returns of the day.

Thank you.

It's only a photograph album.

Oh, George.

I'd forgotten.

Oh, it's beautiful!

Oh.

It's just an album.

I'm going out to my Uncle Luke's farm today.

I like it out there.

George, we grew up and were married.

Don't you remember?

Uncle Luke gave you the farm!

Well, goodbye.

Goodbye and thanks.

Chew this bacon good and slow.

It'll help keep you warm on a cold day.

Mama, just look at me for one minute

as though you really saw me.

Mama!

12 years have gone by.

I'm dead.

I married George Gibbs, Mama.

Wally's dead too.

Mama, his appendix burst on a camping trip to Crawford Notch.

We felt just terrible about it, don't you remember?

Just for a moment now we're all together.

Mama, let's be happy, just for a moment.

Let's look at one another!

MRS. WEBB: That and the yellow package

is something I found in the attic

among your grandmother's things.

You're old enough to wear it now,

and I thought maybe you'd like it.

EMILY: Oh, and this is from you.

It's lovely.

It's just what I wanted.

It's beautiful.

MRS. WEBB: I hoped you'd like it.

Wally has a present for you too. -Wally.

MRS. WEBB: He made it at manual training class.

Be sure and make a fuss over it.

Your father's got a surprise for you too.

I don't know what it is myself.

Here he comes.

MR. WEBB: Where's my girl?

Where's my birthday girl?

Oh, I can't.

I can't go on.

It goes so fast.

We don't have time to look at one another.

I didn't realize.

So all that was going on, and we never noticed.

Must I go back to my grave?

Wait!

One more look.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, world.

Goodbye, Grover's Corners.

Mama and Papa.

Goodbye to clocks ticking, my butternut tree

and Mama's sunflowers.

And food and coffee.

And new ironed dresses and hot baths.

And sleeping and waking up.

Oh, earth, you're too wonderful for anybody to realize you.

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?

Every, every minute?

Oh, I want to live.

I want to live.

I want to live!

Of course you do, Emily.

Of course.

[baby crying]

Most everybody's asleep in Grover's Corners.

Oh, there are a few lights on.

[train whistle]

Down at the depot, Shorty Hawkins has just

watched the Albany train go by.

And of course out in George and Emily's farm,

they're still up, talking over the new baby, I suppose.

It's like what one of those Midwestern poets said.

You've got to love life to have life.

And you've got to have life to love life.

11 o'clock in Grover's Corners.

Tomorrow's another day.

Everybody's resting in Grover's Corners.

You get a good rest too.

Good night.