Original subtitles

Scott Paper Company

takes pleasure in presenting

Robert Young...

and Jane Wyatt with Elinor Donahue,

Billy Gray, and Lauren Chapin...

Bills, circulars, more bills.

Is that the best you can do for me, Harry?

Now, here's a letter you don't get every day.

It's from the principal of the school, Mr. Sheffield.

Well, what do you know?

What is it?

Just a little note from Mr. Sheffield

advising me that Kathy wrote

the best Thanksgiving poem of the fourth grade.

Kathy?

Say, she must be pretty good.

That's a big class she's in. 20 or 30 youngsters.

Oh, it's nothing, really.

All in a lifetime, Harry.

Oh, don't kid me, Jim.

I happen to be a father, too.

Well, see you tomorrow. So long, Harry.

Shall I compare thee with a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.

And summer's lease have all too short a date.

Sometimes too hot the eye of heaven shines.

And often is his gold complexion dim.

And every fair from fair sometime declines, by chance,

our ever changing course untrimmed.

William Shakespeare.

Kathleen Anderson.

Kathy wrote the best poem?

Out of 60 children at least.

I'd love to read it. Where is it?

Oh, I haven't read it myself.

They probably have it under lock and key.

I might be able to persuade Kathy

to give you an autographed copy.

Oh, that would be very nice, Mr. Anderson.

Somehow, I never pictured Kathy as a poet.

I think I've always known

that she has the soul of an artist.

My own sweet, delicate, gentle little Kathy.

Signals! 50! 22! Let it go! Hike!

- Signals! Set... - Kathy.

Yes, Mommy?

Well, if you have to yell, yell softly.

I'm developing my lungs.

And developing my nerves.

What are you gonna do to get rid of me?

I'm going to send you to the store for some bread.

Can I get some raisins, too?

Raisins?

I wanna build up my muscles for the football season.

Okay, champ.

Oh, really, Mother,

aren't you a little old to be playing football?

This belongs to Kathy, not to me.

When is she gonna start acting like a lady anyway?

Apparently not till after the football season is over.

Oh, I'll get it!

Betty! Every time that phone rings

you act as though someone's gonna run away with it.

I'm sorry, Mother.

Oh, signals. 2, 4, 6, 8.

Margaret? Jim!

What are you doing home so early?

Breathes there the man with soul so dead.

Who never to himself have said,

This is my own, my native land

whose heart within him ne'er had burned.

At home, his footsteps he hath turned...

Jim, are you coming down with a cold?

Nothing like that, my dear.

And where is the little celebrity?

Who?

Kathleen! Who else?

She's down at the store buying raisins for her muscles.

Mother, that was the newspaper.

They... hello, Father... Wanted to talk to Kathy.

There's nothing... hello, Betty... surprising about that.

Oh, they just probably want our predictions

on the Thanksgiving Day football game.

Why, Father, what are you doing home at this hour of the day?

I come bearing news of import.

Tidings of great merit.

Father, I just asked a simple question.

An announcement of great magnitude.

Hi, Dad. You home?

What do you think I am? An ice cube?

Bud, your father's not in the refrigerator.

Father, you haven't answered my question yet.

I just thought I'd drop in unexpectedly

with a little surprise for all of you.

Claude Messner's father dropped in unexpectedly one day

and surprised everybody.

Oh?

The painter was there and they forgot to tell him, see?

But when he walked into the hall,

the painter was painting over a door on a stepladder.

Boy, I guess everybody was surprised.

Jim, what is the surprise?

Well, Kathleen wrote

the prize winning poem of her class,

that's all.

Kathy? Mmm-hmm.

Why, she didn't say anything about it.

Well, she's modest.

Kathy? Modest?

Claude Messner won a contest. Never mind, Bud.

He was the only boy at Springfield High

that could hold a peanut between his toes

and turn a handspring at the same time without losing it.

Bud, we are discussing the subject of poetry,

not Claude Messner's toes.

Your little sister has brought honor and fame

to all of us.

And this may be just the beginning.

Next will be short stories then a novel.

She'll be famous. Recognized the world over.

I can see it now.

A mansion on a hill overlooking the ocean.

Quiet, secluded.

People will drive by, point to it and say,

"There lives Kathleen Louise Anderson."

Well, what do you say to that?

How soon do you think she can move out?

You don't seem to realize

that this is a memorable occasion.

In fact, I think it calls for a celebration.

I know. Tomorrow, being Thanksgiving,

instead of eating here,

we'll have our Thanksgiving dinner

at the most expensive restaurant in town.

Not eat here?

Well, the Littles are having a 15-pound turkey for their dinner.

Jim, I've already ordered ours.

Cancel it, Margaret.

We'll have a party with no fuss, no muss,

and Kathy will be our guest of honor.

Suppose they don't have turkey.

It's Thanksgiving.

Of course, they'll have turkey.

I suppose Kathy would be very thrilled.

Mommy! She's home.

Stay where you are, Kitten.

Now remember, listen.

When Kathy tells us about the poem,

I want you all to show her how pleased we are.

And surprised.

Sure, Dad. You can count on me.

Mmm. Come on.

Oh, welcome home, Kathy.

Come on in, sweetheart.

Hello, Kitten.

Oh, hi, funny face.

Hi, Bud.

I ain't done nothin' to nobody.

This is a poet?

Bud.

Kathy, haven't you got something to tell us?

Who's been squealing on me?

Somehow the word squeal isn't, uh,

becoming to someone in your capacity now.

How about snitch?

Sweet are the nights in careless slumber spent.

The poorest states scorns fortunes angry frown.

Doesn't that remind you of something, sweetheart?

Uh-huh.

You're mad about something.

Mad?

Kathleen, why don't you tell us

about the poem you wrote at school.

You know, the one you wrote that won the contest.

Oh, that.

Oh, that, indeed.

Oh, honey, we're so proud of you.

And surprised.

Oh, Kathy. You didn't.

You didn't!

I'm surprised. I'm surprised.

My little sister. I'm surprised.

I'm surprised!

Bud!

You told me to be surprised.

I didn't ask you to unravel.

Why didn't you tell us about it, dear?

'Cause it's not much.

Just an old poem.

Well, I think it's utterly fascinating. Wasn't it hard?

No.

There, you see? It comes naturally. Real genius.

Are you gonna let us read it?

Well, if you want to.

We certainly do.

Here it is.

Just think.

The original manuscript.

It's a poem, Daddy.

It's more than that, Kathy.

This is a great moment.

That moment in an author's life

when talent is recognized.

It must've happened

to Emily Bronte and William Shakespeare.

And now to you.

This is a moment to be remembered.

Even rewarded.

Tell me, Kathleen,

what gifts can I shower upon you?

What prize can I lay at your feet?

I want some football spikes on my shoes like Bud's got.

They don't cost much, Daddy.

I'll go up and get Bud's shoes and show you what I mean.

You hear what she said?

What did you expect her to ask for?

The Encyclopedia Britannica?

I think I'll take a nap.

Don't you wanna hear Kathy's poem?

No, I'm awful tired from being so surprised.

"'Thanksgiving Day', by Kathleen Joy Anderson."

Kathleen Joy Anderson?

What's with that Joy business?

Her name is Louise, not Joy.

Jim, she changed it some time ago.

It's just a middle name.

Changed it? Why?

She didn't like the name Louise.

Well, it's my mother's name.

It's if good enough for my mother, it's good enough for her.

Dear, it's just a middle name.

My grandmother and her mother were both named Louise.

And there's no reason why she should want to change it.

All right, Jim. And she's not going to change it.

Read the poem, Father. You can fight over the name later.

You read it. You're the actress in the family.

Okay. And read it with feeling.

"Thanksgiving is a happy day

"for all the girls and boys.

"It isn't just like Christmas,

"when your parents give you toys.

"It isn't even like Easter

"when you get an Easter bunny.

"Or even like your birthday

when your uncle sends you money."

Wait a minute. Sends her money?

She's 9 years old. He's never sent her a box top.

Jim Anderson, I know you don't like him,

but he's been very good to my sister.

And if Kathy needs him for a poem...

Santa Claus, the Easter bunny

and now your brother-in-law.

What a combination.

Go ahead, Betty.

Where was I?

Your uncle was sending us money.

"It isn't like the Fourth of July,

"or Deco... Decoration Day,

or summer vacation, or Halloween..."

I thought this was a poem about Thanksgiving.

She'll get to it pretty soon.

It's the only holiday she hasn't mentioned.

Mother, make Father be quiet.

I'll be quiet.

Where shall I start?

Start after the funny part

where your uncle sends us money.

"Thanksgiving is a different day

"the day I like the best.

"It's even better than Sunday,

"which is called the day of rest.

"Thanksgiving is my favorite day,

"though skies are gray and murky,

"'Cause that's the day when I get to eat

the drumstick of a turkey."

Oh, you see? It's about Thanksgiving.

Oh, I'll get it.

Well...

Oh, she's only in the fourth grade, dear.

What did you expect? Shakespeare?

So I expected too much.

That's the privilege of being a father.

It's a very sweet poem.

It's just that I expect a Thanksgiving poem

to be about Thanksgiving, that's all.

Not about some money-squeezing, penny-pinching uncle...

That has nothing to do with it, dear, and you know it.

Now what's bothering you? Nothing's bothering me.

Jim, what is it?

Oh, it's just that I called practically everybody in town

and bragged a little too much.

Father, that was the newspaper calling again.

And they said the school Thanksgiving program's gonna be televised.

Televised?

Well, that's very nice.

And they want Kathy to recite her poem!

This poem? Tomorrow at 2:30.

You mean she has to read this... this nonsense

for the whole world to hear?

That's right. Why?

Because it's the best poem in the fourth grade.

Oh, no.

Jim Anderson, I've never seen you so unreasonable.

Well, I guess it's better

than watching her play left end for Notre Dame.

Well, Margaret, how does it feel to be

a lady of leisure on Thanksgiving Day?

Fine.

Funny thing, I offered to drive Kathy down to the station,

and she turned me down.

Well, she promised to go down with Patty Davis.

I don't know. Something seemed to be bothering her.

She was so polite to me at breakfast.

I guess that's what's worrying me.

She's never been on television before.

I think she was nervous.

Well, maybe.

Bye, Dad. Bye, Mom.

Bud?

What're you doing? Moving out?

I just thought I'd borrow your suitcase, that's all.

I have to have something to carry the football letters in.

They're gonna give 'em out at the dinner and...

Take it back where you got it.

Well, it's not gonna hurt anything.

That isn't the point. You have no right

to take anything without asking first.

Well, you were busy.

I tried it a while ago when you were shaving, remember?

I said, "Dad." Then you said

you thought it would be wonderful for us to have Thanksgiving dinner

at a restaurant for a change.

And then, I said, "Dad."

And you said, "It's about time Margaret got a vacation from cooking."

And I said, "Dad." And then you said...

Bud? Yes, sir?

Take the suitcase.

And next time, ask me first.

I tried to. I said, "Dad..."

Bud.

Okay. So long.

Sometimes, Margaret, I wonder.

Wait a minute.

If Bud's gonna have dinner with the football team,

how could he eat with us?

I forgot to tell you.

He said that as long as we're eating out,

he'd like to have dinner with the team.

Oh.

Well, then, just the four of us.

Well, three of us.

The Littles asked Betty to eat with them.

Oh?

Oh, she didn't think you'd mind,

as long as we were eating out.

No, no, of course not.

I still think it's a good idea, eating out.

Oh, I do, too.

Quiet, isn't it?

Mmm. Very.

It... it does us good to get the kids out once in a while.

Gives us a chance to relax and take things easy,

read the papers, things.

I know what you mean, dear.

All that shouting and excitement,

and running up and down stairs

is absolutely unnecessary, isn't it?

I suppose so.

You standing over a hot stove

all Thanksgiving Day.

I never minded that, dear.

Basting a turkey.

That was always sort of fun.

Good heavens! The program started.

Oh.

Thank you very much, Deborah Grady.

That was very nice.

Our next winner is a young lady

by the name of Kathleen.

Kathleen Joy... oh, I guess it's Louise.

Kathleen Louise Anderson.

Miss Anderson will read the poem that won her

the competition in the fourth grade.

Oh, why don't they just do it and get it over with?

Don't be so impatient.

You'd think she was Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

the way he's introducing her.

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Miss Kathleen Louise Anderson.

She's only half on the screen.

Maybe she'll just read half the poem.

Jim, she looks scared.

Take a look at me.

Come on, little lady.

Now, read your poem, Kathleen.

Thanksgiving is a happy day.

Go ahead.

Why doesn't she say something?

Go ahead, Kathleen.

You can't shut her up at home.

I'm sure you can do it, Kathleen.

I don't like the way he's talking to her.

After all, he doesn't have to force her.

Please, Miss Anderson. Say something.

I want my mommy and daddy.

Oh, my poor little baby.

Oh, Jim, how awful.

Oh, there.

I'm going down to the station and bring her home.

Oh, poor darling.

Miss Anderson just remembered a previous engagement.

In the meantime, we're happy to present...

Where's my hat?

I don't know where your hat is.

No wonder she didn't know what to say

the way they scared her half to death.

You'd think their announcer had better sense.

Shouting at her.

Just a youngster.

Children have to be treated differently.

Jimmy Durante would be upset on that program.

He was practically screaming at her.

Jim, you don't have to go. Why not?

They're going to send her home from the studio

in a studio car.

Oh.

Oh. I feel terrible.

Oh, Kathy will be all right, dear.

By the time she's working on her second drumstick,

she'll have forgotten all about it.

I'll get my coat,

and be all ready to leave the moment she arrives.

Margaret. Yes, dear?

Do you mind terribly if we, uh...

Don't eat out?

I don't mind, dear, but...

I know, I promised you dinner, but...

well, I'd just rather eat here.

I'm afraid there isn't anything to eat.

Well, I saw some hamburger in the ice box.

Hamburger on Thanksgiving?

Well, to be perfectly honest,

it just doesn't seem like Thanksgiving.

It was always a special sort of day to me.

Even when I was a boy.

A time when the whole family got together and had fun.

I know.

We used to do that, too.

In fact, there was so many of us,

we had to eat in shifts.

We used to play games after dinner.

So did we.

Then we'd gather 'round the piano and sing.

There's something different about Thanksgiving.

It's more than just a holiday,

I think that's what

Kathy was trying to say in her poem, Jim.

Didn't she say something about it being a happy day?

She did say that, didn't she?

She said, "Thanksgiving is a happy day

"for all the girls and boys.

"It isn't just like Christmas

"when your parents give you toys,

"it isn't even like Easter

"when you get an Easter bunny

"or even like your birthday

when your uncle..."

See what you can do with the hamburgers, will you, honey?

I'll be, um, reception committee for Kathy.

All right, dear.

Hello, Kitten.

Hi, Daddy.

Hello, darling.

Hi, Mommy.

Oh, there, there, honey.

What's an old poem anyway?

Daddy didn't think it was any good!

Oh, Kitten, that's not true.

Yes, it is. I heard him say it.

Oh!

Listen to me, honey. You're right.

I... I didn't think it was too good,

but I was wrong.

You see, I... I expected it to be perfect.

Let me tell you something that happened to me once

when I was in school.

I was asked to give my opinion of a poem.

I did. I said it was the worst thing

I ever heard in my life.

You know, that poem was written

by William Shakespeare.

Probably one of the greatest poets who ever lived.

I never did live that down.

Then I guess you don't know too much about poetry,

do you, Daddy?

Not a thing.

That's okay. I forgive you.

Anybody home?

Hi, sis.

Hi, Bud.

What? What are you doing home?

Ooh, I don't know.

Bunch of goofs sitting around talking about football.

What good is that?

What about your dinner with the team?

I guess I just wasn't hungry.

Wasn't hungry? You?

I am now, though.

Anybody home?

Hi, sis.

Hi.

Betty, have you had dinner? Nope.

I thought you were gonna tackle turkey

with the Littles.

Well, I was, but...

suddenly I got an awful headache.

There were too many people around.

And so after the program was over,

I decided I'd come home.

Did they watch me on television?

Mm-hmm.

Did they laugh at me?

Oh, of course not.

I better not hear anybody laughing at you.

I'd punch 'em right in the nose.

You would, Bud?

I sure would, knot-head.

Besides, uh, I thought it was a swell poem.

Kinda short, but great.

Why didn't you finish it, honey?

'Cause it was Thanksgiving.

I wanted my mommy, my daddy,

my brother and my sister.

I was lonesome.

Gee.

You have us now, honey.

Mother, I was lonesome, too.

Oh, Jim.

Margaret, not you too?

Yes, me, too.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

What's the matter with you, Bud?

Nothing.

I just felt like blowing my nose, that's all.

Then blow.

Good grief.

We all sound like the third act of Uncle Tom's Cabin.

What are we waiting for?

Betty, get some plates. Kathy, you sit there.

Bud, pull up a chair.

I'll get this one for Mommy.

There's nothing like hamburgers for Thanksgiving.

Oh, I'm starving. So am I.

You know something,

this is the happiest unhappy Thanksgiving

I've ever spent.

I feel I'd like to say

thanks in a rather special way.

O Lord, we give thee thanks

from the depths of our humble hearts.

For all the blessings thou has seen fit to bestow upon us.

We thank thee for the food, which graces our table,

the roof which covers our head.

We thank thee for the privilege

of living as free men in a country

which respects our freedom,

and our personal rights to worship and think

and speak as we choose.

We thank thee for making us a family,

for giving us sincerity and understanding.

But most of all, Dear Lord,

we thank thee for giving us the greatest gift

a family may know...

The gift of love for one another.

Amen.

Amen.

Mommy, when can I wear lipstick?

When you turn in your football suit, you can.

Do you know what Bud did?

He used my good cologne on his hair.

Morning, Betty. Two drops. That's all I used.

You used the whole bottle. Good morning, Betty.

I did not. Betty?

Yes, Father?

Good morning.

Good morning, Father.

You know, there's one thing I'm going to enjoy

about our Thanksgiving dinner yesterday.

What's that?

We're probably the only family in Springfield

that won't be eating leftover turkey for a month.

What are we having for dinner, mom?

Leftover hamburger.

Oh, no.

Closed-Captioned By J.R. Media Services, Inc. Burbank, CA