I Cry At Movies

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1066

Abstract

ace yet.Besides movies, I also have been known to cry while watching television, while reading a book or newspaper article, looking at old pictures, and, of course, at wakes and funerals. The tears flow for a myriad of reasons. Often it is due to me empathizing with the trials, tribulations, and tragedies of both real and fictional people. The reported death or abuse of a child will always turn on the flow. Mistreatment of animals will also do it.At funerals, it is often the case that it reminds me of the deaths of other friends and loved ones in the past. And as I get older, my own sense of fragility and vulnerability comes to the fore at these times, death is not down the road, it looms much closer than that. Also I appreciate more now my interconnectedness with all humanity. Hemingway’s “ Do Not Ask For Whom the Bell Tolls”, and Donne’s “No Man Is An Island” are not just abstract concepts to me anymore, they are my reality.At age fourteen, my fate as an unrepentant crier was sealed. It was at a fu

Options

neral for a young cousin of mine. Her father, my father’s brother, was walking stoically down the aisle behind the casket of his nine month old daughter. He had already in the space of eighteen months also buried a three year old daughter and his mother. I said to myself at the time, I never want to be that kind of strong. I much rather be like his wife, my aunt, who cried. I knew instinctively that if I didn’t cry at life’s sad events, I would never learn how to be happy.Irish-American men of my uncle’s generation were often raised with the understanding that to show emotion, especially crying, was a sign of weakness. For me, crying does not diminish my masculinity, it enhances it.Odd as it may seem, a good cry usually makes me feel better. In the very difficult times in which we live, with anger and hatred poisoning our very spirits, our environment is threatened, and a pandemic is raging, crying can provide a healthy release. I prescribe it as a good remedy for everyone. So let the tears flow.</article></body>

And At A Lot Of Other Things

I like movies that have happy endings, that way I can at least walk out after a tearjerker with a smile on my face. My younger daughter, whose face you see next to mine on my profile, is a fellow crier. She alerts me when she has already seen a movie that I have yet to see with “Dad, you are definitely going to cry when you see this one, probably two or three times at a minimum.” Even my grandkids when I take them to a movie now keep checking my face to see if Papa has water on his face yet.

Besides movies, I also have been known to cry while watching television, while reading a book or newspaper article, looking at old pictures, and, of course, at wakes and funerals. The tears flow for a myriad of reasons. Often it is due to me empathizing with the trials, tribulations, and tragedies of both real and fictional people. The reported death or abuse of a child will always turn on the flow. Mistreatment of animals will also do it.

At funerals, it is often the case that it reminds me of the deaths of other friends and loved ones in the past. And as I get older, my own sense of fragility and vulnerability comes to the fore at these times, death is not down the road, it looms much closer than that. Also I appreciate more now my interconnectedness with all humanity. Hemingway’s “ Do Not Ask For Whom the Bell Tolls”, and Donne’s “No Man Is An Island” are not just abstract concepts to me anymore, they are my reality.

At age fourteen, my fate as an unrepentant crier was sealed. It was at a funeral for a young cousin of mine. Her father, my father’s brother, was walking stoically down the aisle behind the casket of his nine month old daughter. He had already in the space of eighteen months also buried a three year old daughter and his mother. I said to myself at the time, I never want to be that kind of strong. I much rather be like his wife, my aunt, who cried. I knew instinctively that if I didn’t cry at life’s sad events, I would never learn how to be happy.

Irish-American men of my uncle’s generation were often raised with the understanding that to show emotion, especially crying, was a sign of weakness. For me, crying does not diminish my masculinity, it enhances it.

Odd as it may seem, a good cry usually makes me feel better. In the very difficult times in which we live, with anger and hatred poisoning our very spirits, our environment is threatened, and a pandemic is raging, crying can provide a healthy release. I prescribe it as a good remedy for everyone. So let the tears flow.