- Narrator: [narration as John 'John Boy' Walton, Jr. reading from his journal] When I was growing up on Waltons Mountain, I had a tendency to think of myself and my immediate family as the only Waltons, but that wasn't true, we were part of a great clan. There were other mountains and many other Waltons who lived farther up in the Blue Ridge. They were part of the family whose way had scarcely been touched by the passing of time. We were a family born to share a kinship with the seasons, always gratefully accepting that which the land gave, but living in the knowledge that weather and misfortune could take it away. One summer we were to learn that man also could take away what the land had given.
- Jim-Bob Walton: There was a tattooed lady at the carnival in Charlottesville. Mama wouldn't let us look but I peeked. She had snake tattoos.
- Wade Walton: What kind of snakes?
- Jim-Bob Walton: Poisonous.
- Wade Walton: Maybe iffen writers and wood carvers ran this country, instead of lawyers and politicians, we'd be better off.
- John-Boy Walton: Well, amen to that.
- Narrator: The house is gone now, along with the animal shelters and the outbuildings. The forest has grown up and there is no sign that once a man and a woman struggled there to raise a family and make a life for themselves. Only the tiny graveyard endures, not far from where the house itself stood. With Martha Corinne's eviction from Blue Rock Creek, our link with our pioneer past was broken, but it remains with us today in our heritage, in our history, and in our pride.