I recently had a day off. Did I spend it shopping, wrapping or baking up Christmas delights? No, well I was going to until I started watching a Walton’s marathon. What a wonderful afternoon and evening! My mind got a break from all of the hub-bub of today as I transported myself to Walton’s Mountain. Enjoy!
John Boy [Narrator]: Christmas is the season where we give tokens of love. In that house we received not tokens but love itself. I became the writer I promised my father I would be and my destiny led me far from Walton’s Mountain. My mother lives there still. Alone now, for we lost my father in 1969. My brothers and sisters, grown with children of their own, live not far away. We are still a close family and see each other when we can. And like Miss Maime Baldwin’s fourth cousins, we’re apt to sample the recipe and then gather around the piano and hug each other while we sing the old songs. For no matter the time or distance, we are united in the memory of that Christmas eve. More than 30 years and 3,000 miles away, I can still hear those sweet voices.
Olivia: What are we going to live on this coming week?
John: Love, Woman.
Elizabeth: Mary Ellen called us piss ants.
Olivia: Well you know better than that don’t you, Elizabeth?
Elizabeth: I don’t feel like a piss ant.
Olivia: There, you see?
Olivia: If John doesn’t get home soon with money, all we’ll have for Christmas dinner is my applesauce cake. We won’t even have that if I don’t get a move on.
Charlie Sneed: Ike, you got any Christmas cheer in this place?
Ike Godsey: I got a little of Miss Emily and Miss Maime’s recipe for snake bite.
Charlie Sneed: [Pretend a snake bit him] Hot doggies! I believe he got me just now. Looky there.
Olivia: What’s that you got in your hand?
John-Boy: It’s a present, Mama, from Miss Mamie and Miss Emily.
Olivia: Bootleg whiskey. Don’t those crazy old women know I don’t allow whiskey in this house? I’ve got young children in this house! What sort of example do they think we set here? You take it out yonder and pour it on the ground!
John-Boy: It’s not whiskey, Mama, it’s egg nog.
Olivia: [after pause] I ought to be ashamed of myself.
Whatever your special recipe is, may your Christmas be with loved ones, even the piss ants.