Will You Weep, Can You Weep, and Why I Weep

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Abstract

you the parts he said that made me weep:I will never understand the desire of wanting to take something away from someone that obviously matters to them, for no reason, so you can play the victim, while also pretending to be superior.I will never understand the fascination with blaming those who have less institutional power, less influence, for your problems; never understand kicking down for no good reason, blaming anybody who’s different, right?When I was young, both my father and mother (neither of whom really had much wisdom to impart, or at least could not impart it wisely), told me that boys did not cry. For most of my life, I followed this “wisdom.” But then came the wonder of children, and their periodic achievements, occasional very sad relationship implosions, and such-like events. There were tears, some happy and some sad.What makes me weep these days? These days — it’s odd, but I can slice off a part of my thumb (another story, a bit more funny than sad, I suppose), and shed not a single tear. But if my big dog, Thor, has an obviously painful time climbing the stairs, well I have some real sadness and tears.</

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p>I wept when my ma cher amio went back to where her family and friends were, leaving me alone with the dogs; but (of course) only after she had driven away. It would never do to have anyone see me weep, right?When I think about my newest grandchild, whom I’ve never yet held, I can weep. When my youngest son and his lady were here at Christmas and informed me they were engaged and pregnant, I wept.I still weep sometimes when I hear certain music. Music from my youth — REO Speedwagon; Bread; Elton John (that’s Sir Elton to you). Opera — Con te Partiro by Bocelli and Brightman; Ognuno Soffre by Paul Potts. These, and a few, a very few, others still can make me weep.So, what is it about Beau’s video that so struck me in this way that I could shed tears? Simple. It was so right about how we are so wrong. That is enough to make any thinking and feeling person weep. Or it should be.I’m not sure how many words are in this article, or how many minutes it would take to read it. I don’t care. I barely got through writing it without drowning my keyboard, and that’s enough for the moment.</article></body>

Will You Weep, Can You Weep, and Why I Weep

It is March 4th. I am writing this, having just watched a video by Beau that struck me through the heart and caused tears to run. I am hoping I can get through this in one sitting, without being told I must rewrite it because of improper use of ellipsis; or that I should use Grammarly to write it better; or that somehow, having spoken of emotion in a prior article, this somehow runs afoul of the “duplicate” policy.

I hope you will watch the video, the whole thing. It’s an examination of “other” awareness days in light of comments he’d received triggered by Black History Month. Evidently, a number of people thought focusing on Black history was unfair. You can hear Beau address these comments, but I will tell you the parts he said that made me weep:

I will never understand the desire of wanting to take something away from someone that obviously matters to them, for no reason, so you can play the victim, while also pretending to be superior.

I will never understand the fascination with blaming those who have less institutional power, less influence, for your problems; never understand kicking down for no good reason, blaming anybody who’s different, right?

When I was young, both my father and mother (neither of whom really had much wisdom to impart, or at least could not impart it wisely), told me that boys did not cry. For most of my life, I followed this “wisdom.” But then came the wonder of children, and their periodic achievements, occasional very sad relationship implosions, and such-like events. There were tears, some happy and some sad.

What makes me weep these days? These days — it’s odd, but I can slice off a part of my thumb (another story, a bit more funny than sad, I suppose), and shed not a single tear. But if my big dog, Thor, has an obviously painful time climbing the stairs, well I have some real sadness and tears.

I wept when my ma cher amio went back to where her family and friends were, leaving me alone with the dogs; but (of course) only after she had driven away. It would never do to have anyone see me weep, right?

When I think about my newest grandchild, whom I’ve never yet held, I can weep. When my youngest son and his lady were here at Christmas and informed me they were engaged and pregnant, I wept.

I still weep sometimes when I hear certain music. Music from my youth — REO Speedwagon; Bread; Elton John (that’s Sir Elton to you). Opera — Con te Partiro by Bocelli and Brightman; Ognuno Soffre by Paul Potts. These, and a few, a very few, others still can make me weep.

So, what is it about Beau’s video that so struck me in this way that I could shed tears? Simple. It was so right about how we are so wrong. That is enough to make any thinking and feeling person weep. Or it should be.

I’m not sure how many words are in this article, or how many minutes it would take to read it. I don’t care. I barely got through writing it without drowning my keyboard, and that’s enough for the moment.