All language subtitles for The Waltons S04E04 The Prophecy.DVDRip.Non-HI.cc.en

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.

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

And, uh, 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, uh, 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, uh... 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?

Oh, they teach.

They, uh, 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 the Wind?

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, uh, $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?

Ah. 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.

Ah!

Now watch.

No, no.

Jim-Bob.

Daddy, do you mind
if I practice with this?

Yeah, you... 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.

And this is certainly
the kind of weather for it.

Arthritis?

I can't recollect
hearing that one before.

Oh, people nowadays,
you can't hardly turn around

but they've got some
new stylish ailment.

Just... Just another 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 tell that 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.

Uh, 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?

Well, I'm 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 and
you didn't even extend me

the courtesy of a
penny postcard reply.

Now, why is that?

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

but, uh, 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, Eula Mae, I'm
not sure I want to 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 and
their children, and 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.

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

I mean especially when one
of them is Martin Renshaw

and the other is Zack
Roswell up the road here.

I mean, it's getting
towards lean picking.

Fine boys, both of them.

Yes. Well, Martin is going to lend us
that big old house of his and his mama's

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

But he's awful
bashful, you know.

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.

Eula Mae, I wish
I could help you,

but, uh, I think I got a
touch of rheumatism here.

What it boils down to, John,

is I'm the chairman of the class
reunion and you are the committee.

Now, if that don't suit you, well,
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.

Uh, well, 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
the fourth grade

and my teacher had
made it out of the fifth.

Old man, now 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?

Oh, everybody who didn't die
in the war or the flu epidemic.

Anyone important
going to be there, Daddy?

G.C. Cathcart from
Washington, D.C.,

ought to be there,
won't he, John?

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

Honey, you haven't even
touched those vegetables.

Now, come on.
Eat up a little, huh.

G. Cleveland Cathcart.

We called him,
uh, 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, isn't he?

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... Winnie Tatum.

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

In fact, the vegetables this year
are better than they've ever been.

I don't even care if we
have any meat on the table.

You know, there's a
fellow down 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? OLIVIA: Why what?

Why did you call her a...
Would you please eat?

A decided blonde?

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

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

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

She was sure
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.

But it seems to me

he never could make up his
mind which one he was stuck on.

The peroxide blonde or
the one with the bangs.

What was her name,
John? Oh, come on, Liv.

I can't remember
all that nonsense.

Maybe there were others.

Bangs. Rachel Stubblefield.

That was the name of
the one with the bangs.

Oh, 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?

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

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

It's all right,
Liv. I don't mind.

Where are you going?

Oh, 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, haven't you?

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 had to do
something else, you'd find a way to do it.

Yeah. Well, from the...
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?

Mmm...

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.

And 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 up in New York City.

Really?

I guess 25 years is a long time.

Hmm.

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.

Zeb. John. John-Boy. Hey, Zack.
How's everything up your way?

Well, if things get
any better, John,

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.

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

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

It would be a pitiful thing, Zachary,
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.

As for me, 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.

Oh...

They treating you well
around here, John-Boy?

They're treating me fine, Zack.

Well, don't let
them know about it.

Okay, I won't.

Anything special
on your mind, Zack?

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

Something about
a school reunion.

If I were you, I'd answer
some of that mail, Zack.

If Eula Mae has to
come looking for you,

she'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 want to 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.

Well, I'll tell you, 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.

Yeah.

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

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

How about that old
black suit of yours?

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? Uh...

Oh, yeah. He said the mass of
men lead lives of quiet desperation.

John. Uh-huh.

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, uh, fine, John.

World treating you all right?

Oh, 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. Uh, I really do.

Livie.

Livie.

Yeah, Grandma?

Isn't that the biggest
Cathcart boy out there?

McKinley or whatever
his name was?

Cleveland?

Well, 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 in the papers, Grover.

You're doing real well.

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?

Oh, Winifred's not here yet.

Uh, she stopped in Richmond to
visit her mother for a couple of nights.

She's not been
feeling very well lately.

Oh, 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.

I wish we'd known you were coming. I
could have at least powdered my nose.

Grover, 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.

Hmm, well, I'll
never get used to it.

Good.

John-Boy?

Daddy had to go in to Rockfish,

something about his
high school reunion.

Oh, do you knock usually 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.

Well, if I'd known
all that was going on.

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

But 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.

I'm trying to think up writers who
spent their whole life just 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 Main Street 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,
Martin. I've got some chores to do.

Where do you want
me to pick you up, John?

I'll be at Eula Mae's, probably.

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, Martin.

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 even have
gone to high school

if I'd known something like
this was going to happen!

Oh, Martin, don't
worry about it.

Everything is cut,
stacked, and dried.

There is 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.

All right. 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 have got to get
up from the table,

and stand there in
front of all those people

and ask the blessing.

All right, I'll tell you what.

I'll make sure you
don't say grace,

even if I have to say
it myself, all right?

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

All right, 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.

Oh, but 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?

Oh, 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. Yeah, I sure did.

Kids?

Four boys and three girls.

Well!

I guess that takes care of her.

Sure does. She's
busy, that's a fact.

Oh, it's been one thing
after another all day long.

Well, why don't you just
leave the phone off the hook?

Then things really
would start happening.

Thank goodness you're
here, John Walton.

Just tell me what you
want done, Eula Mae.

Well, now...

Eula Mae? You home?

Sounds like my wife.

Honey, guess what? Uh,
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.

Oh.

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

Hmm?

Writing.

Writing? Yes.

You know, things
for people to read.

Well, I... 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, all right?

Much obliged. My pleasure.

No more shoving out...

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

I'm tired of fooling.
You're a bunch of apes!

Melvin! 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? Huh?

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 supposed to be somebody who
thinks things up and puts them on paper.

What... What's that
got to do with anything?

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

Of course he's working for
himself. 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 gonna have to
tell me what I can do.

I just don't know what to
do. Whatever am I gonna do?

Eula Mae, what's happened? You're
acting like it's the end of the world!

Well, 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?

Uh-uh. Two days inebriated
and a week drying out?

Oh, no, Mr. Walton, it's
much worse than that this time.

She's gone broke her hip.

They can't get that
lady up the stairs, even.

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.

Uh, her cussing would sure put a
damper on the dinner, wouldn't it?

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

How's Martin taking all of this?

Oh, you'd have
been proud of him.

I mean, he really told her.

He said he hoped
that the next time

she crawled into a liquor
bottle, she'd fall and break...

It's supposed to be a
pretty day tomorrow.

And us just standing here. I
mean, 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,

and you're the one that people
turn to when things go wrong.

We could do it.

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

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

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

I suppose... Now 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.

Now, wait a minute.
I'll escort you.

Now wait and
listen to me. Olivia!

Cocktails, gentlemen?

Cocktails? Mmm.

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 kind of worried.

I just... I just 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 straight 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 want to get rid of
the sweet taste, Grover,

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?

Erin, what about Jason
and the musicians?

When are they expecting to eat?

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

Jason will stay out there and play
as long as people will listen to him.

Yeah, well, he gets
that from his grandpa.

Look at that.

Children.

Yes?

Everything all
right? 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
too happy about it.

What you got there?

Oh, it's a letter from old, uh,
Dr. Porter down at Boatwright.

I didn't have a chance
to read it before.

No bad news, I hope.

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

sort of, uh, easing back
on that conversation

that I had with him a
couple of days ago, uh,

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

Anyway, he enclosed this
interview with Sinclair Lewis.

You know Sinclair Lewis?

He's a very fierce American
writer with a lot of... lot of integrity.

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

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

He says that, uh, 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.

Uh, 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."

Hmm.

Well, 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.

All right.

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.

The yearbook 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,

"Oh, you've gotta
be happy, girl,

"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 all right,

but not always the
way that you planned it.

Hey, who was class prophet?
Would anybody remember?

Hermine Willebrant. Ah!

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! WOMAN: No, it doesn't.

Oh, and I remember the most
original girl was Ethel Barnsdale.

And the most original
boy, Grover Cathcart.

The prettiest girl,
Winnie Tatum.

Yeah.

Biggest heartbreaker,
Rachel Stubblefield.

Who was the biggest
heartbreaker boy?

That was me.

Oh, 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 Cathcart.

No, it was John.

If anybody would
remember that, it's me.

Why, Grover?

Well, 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 Walton, but, uh, fair's fair.

John married lucky.

Oh, 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 lovers lane

♪ My dearie ♪ Wedding bells

♪ Will ring so
merrily ♪ Ev'ry 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.