Original subtitles

Verdie asked me to help her trace her family ancestry.

- You gonna do it? - Why would she want me to help her?

There are doors open to you, Jason, that are closed to Verdie.

Verdie, the whole world outside isn't like it is here.

People won't be so kind.

Are you forbidding me to go?

I can't forbid you anything.

But if I could, I'd forbid you this.

Go. Now.

We're not going anywhere until we locate Miss Estelle Unwin.

You have located her, and you have heard her ask you to leave!

Verdie, don't.

Please, Jason. Let's go home.

A s the 1930s became the war years of the 1940s,

an a wakening came to our small community.

An awareness of the world beyond our Blue Ridge Mountains.

There began a reaching out, to touch people and places

and knowledge we ha d never considered before.

- What you doing? - Writing a letter.

Are you writing a soldier?

Well, why shouldn't I?

Arnold Kevin is lonesome at Camp Lee. He needs a friend.

A 12-year-old friend?

He doesn't have to know about that.

What are you saying to him?

None of your business.

Oh, come on, Elizabeth, I won't tell.

- Promise? - Promise.

Okay. How does this sound? "My Dearest Arnold..."

Too friendly?

Definitely too friendly.

Okay then.

"Dear Arnold, I saw your ad in the Rockfish paper,

"where you said you wanted a pen pal.

"I am a tall, beautiful 18-year-old girl

"with gorgeous wavy hair, and eyes like limpid pools."

Wait a minute, Elizabeth. You can't say that.

Okay, I'll take out "eyes like limpid pools."

No, I mean you can't tell him you're 18.

It just wouldn't be fair.

Well, he'll like it that way.

He wouldn't like it if I said, "Dear Arnold,

"I'm a 12-year-old, freckled-faced, little kid."

Well, Elizabeth, you write what you want. But I think it's kind of silly.

Erin.

Can I use some of your perfume to put on the letter?

No!

All right.

I have some old cologne in the top drawer. You can use that if you want.

Hey, Verdie. Do you want a lift?

If it doesn't take you out of your way. I'm going down to the church.

I'm going right past there.

Oh, good.

They're very pretty.

My daddy loved them.

You miss him a lot, don't you?

- I hope they take hold. - They will.

My grandpa always says he wants to be

buried where the flowers of Walton's Mountain will cover him.

A lot of people born here have a very special feeling

about this place, don't they?

My daddy wasn't born here, nor was I.

Where'd you come from?

Brightwood. When I was about three.

Was your daddy born there?

I don't know where he was born. He'd never talk about the past.

I don't even really know what his mama and papa were like.

I don't know any of that.

When he was alive, I never used to think about it much.

There was him, and there was me and my family, and I remember my mama.

And that was enough.

But now that he's gone...

You got all kinds of questions, and no one to go to for the answers.

It feels strange to be so alone.

I know I have a daughter and my sister, but they're both so far away.

You've got Harley and Josh and Jodie.

But I don't have myself.

I know it must sound stupid,

but suddenly I feel so unsure about who I am.

Doesn't sound stupid at all to me.

I know if I didn't have my daddy and my grandma and my grandpa

and know all about our family history, I'd...

I'd feel real strange. Kind of like I was adrift.

That's exactly how I feel.

You know, when someone lets go of a balloon,

and it drifts upwards towards the sky with the string dangling?

That's how I feel now.

I need something to hold me steady again.

I need to know where I came from.

Isn't there some way you can trace your family history?

I don't know.

My daddy always said nothing in the past was worth remembering.

All I've got left of his is one small wooden box,

filled with the things that he cherished.

I don't suppose you'd like to play detective with me?

Hey, Elizabeth. What can I do for you?

I'd like to mail a letter.

Okay, well, you're just in time 'cause the mail is just going out.

How long will it take this to get where it's going?

That depends on where it's going.

Let's see. Camp Lee, Virginia.

Well, it should get there, like, the day after tomorrow.

Maybe tomorrow, if you're lucky.

Mmm. Smells pretty.

You sending perfumey letters to soldiers?

Who, me? No. That's Erin's.

She's got a boyfriend who's a soldier.

Again?

I guess so.

Arnold Kevin. Don't think I ever heard of him.

Ike, can we just mail the letter? Please?

Oh, of course. We of the Postal Service,

through snow and sleet and dark of night,

nothing can stop our couriers from their appointed rounds.

- Grandpa? - Hmm?

Did you know Verdie's folks when they first moved here?

Verdie's folks? Well, sure I did. I knew her pa and her ma both.

Her ma was a pretty thing. She died of TB when Verdie was just little.

Verdie asked me to help her trace her family ancestry.

Are you going to do it?

I can't. I have a big recital coming up.

Verdie hasn't been the same since her daddy died.

You know, he was the only connection she had

with what she was and where she'd grown up.

Most people can't bear that. And it was real hard on Verdie.

But why would she want me to help her?

There are doors open to you, Jason, that are closed to Verdie.

You know that.

Evening.

Evening.

Where's Josh?

- In his room. - I'm starving. What's for supper?

Supper?

Yes, ma'am, supper.

You know, the meal I'm used to having after I get home from a hard day's work.

You remember?

Oh, Harley, I'm sorry, I...

I didn't realize it was getting so late. Nothing's ready.

It'll only take me a minute.

- You all right? - I'm fine.

I was just going through that box of my daddy's things.

Verdie, I know you miss Ned,

and it's only fitting that you should. But life's got to go on,

and you sitting here, moping over a boxful of bits and pieces,

isn't going to do you or me any good.

Maybe it will.

Harley.

I've decided something.

I'm going to find out all I can about my family.

I mean,

who they are, where they came from, who I am.

And where are you going to start?

Right here... with this.

Looks like some kind of gewgaw, probably belonged to your mama.

It's too heavy. A woman wouldn't wear it.

Just plain metal, couldn't be worth anything.

Then why did my daddy keep it all these years

if it didn't have some special meaning?

I don't know. And anyway, I don't see how this could have anything

to do with your family.

Maybe it doesn't,

- but I'll just have to find that out. - How?

Well, I know my daddy came from Brightwood. That's where I'll begin.

Maybe I'll find some folks there who remember him.

I'm against it.

- Harley. - Verdie,

all your life, you can remember living here.

Mostly, you've known only good people.

The whole world outside isn't like it is here.

People won't be so kind, won't be so helpful.

Are you forbidding me to go?

You're a grown woman, Verdie. I can't forbid you anything.

But if I could, I'd forbid you this.

Jason.

Verdie.

Harley thinks I'm acting foolish,

and I probably shouldn't be doing this,

but I think I found something.

What is it?

I've found a clue among my daddy's things.

- I thought... - How's 7:30 in the morning?

I'll be ready.

Thank you.

Reckon we should start at the Brightwood County Records Office first.

That's exactly where we're headed.

Jason, look.

I found this among my daddy's things.

It's beautiful.

It looks like it was meant to be worn around the neck.

- Was it your mama's? - I don't think so.

It's very unusual.

I think it's important.

Like a clue to what I'm looking for.

No...

Uh...

No, what you have there is all we've got for 1898.

- All right, thank you. - Young man.

I think you're just wasting your time.

Those people never bothered about registering birth information.

I mean, most of them can't even read or write.

Maybe some of them weren't able to read or write,

but Mrs. Foster can. So we're just gonna keep right on looking.

No offense intended, you understand?

"Verdie, daughter of Edward and Ethel Harris,

"born at 3:30 a.m. on October 11, 1898,

"at 12 Elm Place, Brightwood, Virginia."

Come on!

You looking at the want ads?

Are you looking for a job, Elizabeth?

These are not the want ads.

Arnold Kevin. Who's that?

You sure do ask a lot of questions!

Okay, forget it.

Arnold Kevin is a friend of mine.

You got a boyfriend?

He's a boy and he's a friend.

You know something, Elizabeth? You ought to send him your picture.

"Dear Arnold,

"I thought you might like to know what I look like,

"so I'm sending a picture of myself.

"This picture was taken out by the back of our barn

"by Grandfather."

Hello?

Hello?

Can I help you folks?

Well, maybe. I mean, I hope so.

I know you.

You do?

Upstairs...

You lived upstairs.

Ethel! Ethel Harris!

- No, you can't be. - I'm her daughter.

- I'm Verdie... - Verdie!

Oh, Verdie! Little Verdie who lived upstairs.

Lord, I can't believe it. I just can't believe it!

Wait till I tell... Frank! Frank!

It's hard to believe. That was almost 40 years ago.

Seems like yesterday.

You was a handsome devil then, weren't you?

I still am!

- Some more? - No, thank you, ma'am.

No, no, thank you.

I wish I could tell you more, Verdie, but like I said,

now, your mama and me, we liked to talk.

But your daddy, he was different. He stayed pretty much to himself.

You reckon maybe he was just shy about talking to the womenfolk?

Not just women.

'Course, when we went fishing down by the river,

he'd talk about this and that. Baseball and work.

Hardly ever said much about anything else.

Except...

Once. One time, a Saturday,

we was walking home,

and he said, if I remember rightly,

that when he was real little, both his folks died

in some kind of an epidemic.

And after that, he said he was shuttled around to a lot of different bad places.

Mr. Nelson, can you remember anything else?

That's all he said, as far as I can recollect,

but it was so long ago.

What's this?

I was hoping you would know. It belonged to my father.

Never seen it before.

Neither have I.

Heavy, ain't it?

It sure is.

Well, I think it's about time for us to be going.

- Thank you. - You're welcome, honey.

Mrs. Nelson, thank you for your hospitality.

I just remembered something else. Another time we was talking,

Ned and me, and he said after you was born, Verdie,

he got to feeling real sad about his folks.

So he got on the train to Scottsville and he went to visit their grave.

He wanted to tell them about you, that's what he said.

Scottsville, that's right. I remember it real clear now.

Honey,

if you get around this way again, come on back and visit with us.

I will.

Thank you, Mr. Nelson.

It's all right, darling.

It was nice to meet both of you.

Nice to meet you, son.

- Thanks again. - You're welcome. Goodbye.

- Bye-bye. - Bye-bye.

It really is like being a detective, isn't it, Verdie?

You know,

I think we're going to solve this mystery of your family.

Oh, I hope so, Jason. I really hope so.

Do you want to put this in the mail for me?

Another one?

I guess Erin likes to write letters.

Mmm.

She must be writing to a real Romeo over there at Camp Lee.

Guess so.

What's that on your hand?

Who's A.K.?

It's personal.

We're going to try Scottsville tomorrow, Daddy.

Why there, Son?

Well, we found out that Verdie's grandma and grandpa lived there.

And they were buried there.

So we thought we'd try the Hall of Records and see what else we could find out.

Afraid you're not gonna find much help there.

Why not?

I worked down in Scottsville one summer.

The summer of the flood, in fact. Most of that town was ruined.

As a matter of fact, I worked in the City Hall there.

The outside was standing, but the inside was all ruined,

washed away, and those records were destroyed.

I remember that.

Those records aren't going to be any help to you at all,

especially before 1915, anyway.

Well,

I reckon what we're gonna have to do is just go through the churchyards,

looking for headstones or markers,

or something like that, and hope the church has some records.

That would be the best way, son.

Driving home tonight in the car with Verdie,

I started going over some dates in my mind.

Years that people were born.

I realized something that really shook me.

Verdie's grandfather was born before the Civil War.

War between the States, son.

Sorry, Grandpa.

That means he must have been a slave.

Well, now, that's hard to believe.

Where you gonna wait for Jason?

He'll be along in a minute.

Verdie, I wish you'd quit doing this.

Harley, I can't.

Can't? Why not?

You already found the place where you were born, that's enough.

No, it's not. I need to find more.

Like what?

I need a place I can touch on a map and call home.

The further you go back, the deeper you dig,

the uglier you're going to find things.

I'm not afraid to see them. I want to see them.

If I can know the pain my people went through,

maybe I can understand what happened to them.

Please leave it alone. Don't go stirring it all up.

Oh, I'll see misery, I know that. But it doesn't matter.

All the threads that made up those lives

tangle with the threads of my own.

Whether I like it or not.

Verdie.

Look.

"Albert Harris, born March 15, 1831."

Jason. I think...

"Etta Harris, beloved wife of Albert."

I found my grandparents.

These are the only records we have.

Young man, do you mind putting that banner over there?

Sure.

Thank you.

There, there.

Now, when you finish with them, put them back over there.

- Thank you. - Sir?

Have you ever seen anything like this before?

Couple of times.

Where?

Hmm.

You don't see these around much anymore.

But I seen a couple.

- I seen a couple. - Who did they belong to?

Slaves.

Men that had been slaves.

Not born slaves, mind you.

But the ones brought here from Africa.

Some of them had ornaments like that.

These are the records for 1887.

Oh...

"Etta Harris, died the 23rd day of August, 1887.

"Buried at this church, the 25th day of August.

"A good wife and God-fearing woman."

"Albert Harris. Died at 18 Maxwell Road,

"the 28th day of August, 1887.

"Born a slave. Unwin. Died a free man."

If this came from Africa, it couldn't have belonged to my grandfather.

"Born a slave." That means born here.

Unwin.

"Slave, Unwin."

What do you suppose that means, Jason?

It must be the name of the family who owned him.

Pardon me.

Do you know of a family around here called Unwin?

Old Fluvanna County family.

Own a big place over by the river.

How far?

Five, six miles down the main road.

- Thank you. - Thank you, thank you very much.

Verdie,

I feel embarrassed.

Why?

I know it's dumb, but it's just the way I feel.

I've known you my whole life, and I... It never even occurred to me...

That if this were a different time, you'd be able to buy me

and sell me?

It had never occurred to me before, either.

It's terrible to think about it, and there's no easy way to talk about it.

Sam, I want you to replant those azaleas.

- Yes, ma'am. - And I want them

to be put outside. One on the right side of the gate, the red one,

and on the left side, I want the white one.

Yes, ma'am.

Ma'am?

What are you doing here?

Ma'am, I'm Jason Walton. This is Mrs. Verdie Foster.

In that case, I would appreciate it

if you and Verdie were to leave my property.

If we could just have a moment...

You are trying my patience, sir.

Now, go!

We're not going anywhere until we locate Miss Estelle Unwin.

You have located her, and you have heard her ask you to leave!

Please, ma'am.

I'm looking for information about my family,

and I've been told that you may know.

My grandfather was called Albert. Albert Harris.

He was a slave. He worked for people called Unwin, your family.

My family owned many slaves.

We heard that.

We were hoping we might be allowed to look at the records if there are any.

We were told slave records were kept.

Certainly they were.

We thought if we could examine the records,

we might be able to find out how far back my people go.

There is nothing here that can do you the slightest bit of good.

I don't think you're being very fair, Miss Unwin.

"Fair"? When I was a child,

we were engaged in a war that ruined my family

because someone else came along

and was proclaiming the rights of other people.

The result was the loss of everything for us,

everything we loved and cherished. Everything that we were.

And what has she gained?

Nothing, so far as I can determine.

Now, I suggest you leave.

Verdie, don't.

Please, Jason. Let's go home.

Harley was right.

I never should have started this.

Elizabeth, there's no sense you hanging around here.

The mail doesn't come in for another hour.

Then I could always call you if you get something.

I'll wait.

Okay.

Well, hello there, soldier. Can I do something for you?

I'm looking for the Walton place.

The postmaster at Rockfish said they lived, uh, close to your store.

Well, he's right, they live right down the road. You a friend of the family?

No, I have a letter from Elizabeth Walton.

I came up to see her.

Camp Lee.

Well, uh, there was a member of the Walton family

here just a few minutes ago. I...

I wonder where she went.

Well, uh, I tell you what.

You just go out the door and go down to the right.

When you past the pond,

you just can't miss the house. It's right there.

Thank you. Much obliged.

- Okay, bye now. - Bye-bye.

Erin, you got to help me! He's coming!

- Who's coming? - Arnold Kevin!

Oh, you're kidding.

Erin, what'll I do?

Go answer the door.

Elizabeth, answer the door.

Hello.

My name is Arnold Kevin. Does Elizabeth Walton live here?

Yes.

Is she at home?

Yes.

Are you Elizabeth?

Supper's on the table! Come on, everybody!

- Oh, good, chicken! - I'm going to put you over here,

next to Grandpa. Nobody's sat here since our eldest son went to New York.

It's an honor. I appreciate you asking me to stay.

It's our pleasure.

Ah, look what we have here. Hello, young man.

When a young man travels across the state of Virginia to see a young, tall,

beautiful, 18-year-old girl, the least we can do is feed him.

Daddy! I already told him I was sorry.

Well, I'm not sorry.

I'll be honest with all of you.

My family live on a farm in Ohio.

I have four sisters.

One like you, Elizabeth.

My grandpa...

Well, I haven't been home in almost a year.

Well, this here grandpa welcomes you heartily.

Let's all hold hands in spirit of reverence and pray. It's our custom, young man.

Father in heaven, him omnipotent, with all our heart to thee we call.

Our house is a haven, a refuge, in times of darkness and light.

We're grateful that the trailing arbutus is still with us here on the mountains.

Elizabeth can wander down to the pale, green, piney woods.

Ah, Jason, you're going to wear that cow's hide out if you keep on like that.

- I think she likes it, Grandpa. - Hmm.

You're still worried about Verdie, aren't you?

I can't take my mind off it.

That woman, Miss Unwin, was so contemptuous of Verdie.

And the worst part about it is, it made Verdie give up what she was doing.

Yes, that's the part that's troublesome to me, too.

I'll tell you something, Grandpa.

I don't think I could go back there again

and face that woman, even if Verdie changed her mind.

No, I don't think you'd do a particle of good.

It might help if I went back to talk to her.

You?

Yes, I think she might be more accommodating

if she got to talking to someone that remembers

some of the same things that she remembered.

Did you know her once?

Yeah, everybody around here knows Miss Estelle.

You know, the Unwins, they lost everything

after the War between the States and the Reconstruction.

She's done her level best ever since to try to hold everything together,

her heritage and all.

She's a brave woman.

I don't see anything very brave about her. It seems to me like she's wasted her life.

Maybe.

But you've got to remember she comes from a time when position

and tradition meant everything.

Does that give her any right to hurt Verdie?

No, it don't.

Tell you what, let's get dressed up and go and see her again.

We'll take Verdie with us.

Grandpa...

You may think that Estelle is a mean, narrow-minded woman,

but the main thing is,

you just gotta call attention to that fact that she's a human being.

I think it'll work. Come on, let's try it.

Come on, get dressed. Leave that cow alone!

Where do we find Miss Unwin?

I reckon she's down at the greenhouse.

Thanks.

I asked you to keep away from here.

Miss Unwin,

I beg your pardon for this intrusion. I fetched them here.

This is my grandson and I am Zebulon Walton.

I'm sure that's all very interesting, but not to me, I'm afraid.

Zeb Walton from Walton's Mountain, you can see it most anywhere

from your place.

My family have lived on that mountain for generations,

and I know everything about them.

How they come there in the first place. How they lived and how they died.

And my grandson knows the same things and his grandchildren will, too.

I am going into my house, and when I get there,

I want not to see you here.

You do that, Miss Unwin.

You go into your house.

I reckon your house is something like our mountain.

It's been in your family for generations.

My grandfather has told me you've spent your whole life

trying to preserve the heritage of your family.

That is true.

You've been very lucky to be able to do that.

Lucky?

I think Jason means that you're lucky to have had facts.

And things to look at and live with that describe your family

and always will.

Whatever there is for Mrs. Foster to know is in your house,

tied up with your memories and traditions. It's her heritage, too.

It is not true.

It is.

Your family owned mine.

In my house, the attic is at the top of the stairs.

On the left-hand side, I haven't been in there in years,

I hope you'll find what you are looking for in there.

Thank you.

If you do find anything, I'd be happy to hear about it.

"Unwin Estate Records.

"1803 to 1832."

Wasn't your grandfather born in 1831?

You can't read any of it.

Rain's got to them.

"January, 1830. February.

"March."

There's nothing's left of it.

We're not going to find anything.

This is where it began.

This is where it ends.

Is there anything in the desk?

Letters.

Some old bills.

This looks like some kind of a drawing book.

Sketching was very popular in those days, especially with the rich ladies.

This looks very old.

Could you get the light?

"1828.

"Sketches executed by Mary Emma Unwin.

"Portrait of my father, Thomas Unwin,

"January 2, 1829."

"Portrait of my dear sister, Alice Ann Unwin, June 10, 1829."

"Edward Newby, houseboy,

"bought 1827."

"Nelly Newby, laundress, bought 1828."

"Biddy Lawson, cook, bought from Colonel Chester Lawson, 1825."

"Abraham, field hand."

"Seth Adu,

"renamed Randolph Harris,

"with his baby son

"called Albert,

"September, 1832."

The medallion.

That baby must be your grandfather.

With his father.

My great-grandfather.

Verdie, I'll, uh... I'll meet you outside.

I think you ought to have this book.

I'm going to talk to Miss Unwin about it.

Someday,

I'll search further.

Someday, I'll cross the ocean and find my deepest roots,

and if I can't go,

then my children, or their children, will go in my place.

And then

all the names and faces

and places of our history will be known to them

and to their children, too.

All the dreams that were born in those early years

on Walton's Mountain were not fulfilled.

But whatever we people on the mountain may or may not have accomplished in life,

we were held together, and still are,

by the knowledge of ourselves as families.

Our roots go deep, and we try our best to keep them nourished

and healthy for the generations yet to come.

About time to turn in, Jason.

I was just thinking about today, Daddy.

Verdie finding all her relatives.

She won't ever again have that all-alone feeling.

That's something nobody in this family has to worry about.

Including John Curtis, we have four generations under one roof.

Grandpa, do we have a family tree?

Have it? Elizabeth, we live in it.

Goodnight, everybody.

English -SDH