Heaven Can Wait Page #12

Listen, dear, if I take five drops

three times a day...

and if you don't

worry about me too much...

we'll both live to celebrate

our golden anniversary.

Now, come on. Let's dance.

I didn't know it then...

but this was our last anniversary.

It was the last time we danced together.

There were only a few more months

left for Martha...

and she made them the happiest

of our lives together.

Sixty. Yes, I was 60.

Jack insisted on celebrating.

And here are my relatives

who came to make this birthday...

an occasion of riotous gaiety.

Cousin William- 73.

Aunt Minnie,

who admitted to 81.

The total age

of this scintillating assemblage...

was over 1,400 years.

I believeJack gave this party

on purpose...

to remind me that I was contributing

60 years to that 1,400.

- Good morning.

- Good morning, Miss Ralston.

- Is Mr. Van Cleve down yet?

- He's having his breakfast.

Oh. Thank you.

- Good morning, Mr. Van Cleve.

- Good morning, Miss Ralston.

Sorry to get you up so early, but I want

these two letters to leave on the 9:30 plane.

Yes, Mr. Van Cleve.

When you get back to the office, please see

that I get a complete domestic report...

from every department before noon

because I may go to Chicago.

Very well.

Now, uh, there's just

one little thing.

It's, uh -Well, a letter came in from your father

addressed to the board of directors, and -

Is he trying to go over my head again?

- Oh, I'm sure he didn't mean it that way.

- What does he want?

We live together in the same house,

and then he writes letters to the board of directors.

What's the old gentleman

trying to put over this time?

He wants the board of directors

to vote him a bonus.

- A bonus?

- He talked to me yesterday, confidentially.

In case that bonus doesn't go through...

he wanted me to persuade you to give him

at least an advance on his monthly check.

He shouldn't go to you, Miss Ralston.

Well, I'm gonna give him a lesson.

And, Miss Ralston, if my father

ever talks to you again...

tell him he ought to be ashamed and that

you are in no position to deliver any messages.

Yes, Mr. Van Cleve.

- Why, Mr. Van Cleve -

- Shh!

- Is he in a bad mood?

- Terrible.

Now, look here, Miss Ralston,

would you do me a very great favor?

- Father.!

- Ohh.

- Good morning, Jack.

- Good morning.

I'd like to talk to you.

Father.

I heard a very funny story. You'll love it.

It'll start your day off with a laugh.

You ought to be ashamed, coming home

at all hours, making a wreck of yourself.

How much longer do you think

you can keep this up?

- Please, Jack, don't scold me.

- Someday you're gonna collapse.

- Do I look that bad?

- You look like a ghost.

I know you're right, Jack.

I know I should change my way of living.

But, my boy,

put yourself in my position.

I'm lonesome.

You're always away somewhere on business.

Being alone in this big house night after night,

you don't know what it's like.

Neither do you

because you're never at home.

But I can imagine what it's like,

and, Jack, it's horrible.

Now, my boy, I want to talk to you.

I'm not fooling myself.

I'm not getting any younger.

I think the time has come for me

to change my way of living.

You know, Jack, when a man

gets to be - gets to be 60...

the blood doesn't flow

as fast anymore.

Instead of a wild mountain stream,

it becomes a quiet little brook.

The other day, when I was sitting here all alone,

you know what I felt like doing?

- What?

- I felt like I wanted to sit...

in a nice, comfortable chair...

and read and read and read.

Well, why didn't you? The library is full of books,

and I'm sure you haven't read one of them.

Jack, the eyes can't take it anymore.

Why don't you go to an oculist?

Uh, yes...

that might do.

Yes, that might do.

But, uh...

on the other hand...

what do you think of the idea

of having, well, some kind of reader?

You know, someone with

a pleasant voice, nice diction.

I know just what you want. You mean one of

those nice, quiet fellows from Yale or Harvard.

Oh, they're easy to get.

- Now, who is she?

- Jack, you have the most suspicious mind.

Come on.

How old is she?

Well, uh, she's an unusually adult

young woman.

I met her at old Wilson Weatherby's.

She was his reader.

Hmm. The whole thing

sounds a little fishy to me.

Now, Jack, why do you want to deprive

your old father of a little cultural pleasure?

I can think of nothing

more dignified and homelike...

than sitting in front of a fireplace

and having someone read a fine book to me.

Something worthwhile.

Something -

Father, her last thought

was that you should be happy.

I promised her I'd see to it.

So, if you want this young lady to read to you,

go ahead with my blessing.

No, I couldn't do it.

When a man gets to be 60,

his life -

Isn't over, Father.

Doesn't have to be over.

If a man is lonely

and he feels that he needs, well -

You mean, the feminine touch?

That's natural.

But I think he should find someone

closer to his own age.

Maybe.

Not a girl of, uh -

Twenty-four.

Well, that is a little

out of proportion.

I'm afraid so.

But if, on the other hand,

he should meet a cultured woman of-

Right.

Someone with real dignity?

A woman of about 50 or 51.

Or 52 or 53, or even 55.

That's more like it.

Jack, my future

looks pretty depressing.

Mr. Van Cleve,

you're wanted on the telephone, sir.

Hello.

What?

Oh, uh, just a moment.

It's for you, "poochie. "

As a man grows older,

his medicine cabinet grows bigger.

This is me at 70.

Now, really, there's nothing to worry about.

But, Mrs. Van Cleve, please -

I know, but it was

his 70th birthday yesterday...

and I didn't have the heart to keep him

from celebrating a little.

I hate to go to that banquet

and leave the old man alone.

- I'd just as soon stay home.

- No, it's perfectly all right for you to go.

In fact, the fewer people around him,

the better off he'll be.

Now, Mr. Van Cleve, I'm sorry to wake you up,

but it has to be done.

Oh, if I could just -

- Now, open your mouth, please.

- Oh, go away. Go away and leave me alone.

What was that dream all about?

Oh, I was having such a good time.

- Just open your mouth.

- What was that all about?

Oh, yes.

The door opened

and a man stepped out of a rowboat.

He said, "Henry...

I've come to take you on a trip

from which you'll never come back. "

Now, please, don't get excited.

And I said, "My good fellow...

"if I ever take a trip like that,

it'll be in a deluxe cabin...

and not in a dinky little rowboat

that doesn't even have a bar. "

So I threw him out,

rowboat and all.

Good. Good.

And what do you think he did?

He came back with a big luxury liner...

floating on an ocean

of whiskey and soda.

And instead of funnels...

there were big, black cigars.

And on top of the bar,

sitting in a lifeboat...

was the most beautiful blonde...

wearing a Merry Widow costume.

She dived into the whiskey

and swam right over to my bedside.

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