Father Knows Best (1954–1960): Season 1, Episode 8 - Thanksgiving Day - full transcript
The family prepares for Thanksgiving. Kathy has to write a poem for a school project. She is selected as the winner in her class and the family is proud. But when she reads the poem to her parents, Jim realizes the poem is not her own work.
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
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