Off-the-Shelf

Even Football Players Cry

Any writer that plumbs the depths, thus revealing his inner self, is like a medieval knight charging off into battle without his armor and without his weapon and without his noble steed (perhaps wearing only a loin cloth to keep the censors happy). It is truly a disrobing experience, this thing called writing.

So with that in mind, the subject of today's blog is "crying" and my ability these days to well up over anything from a beautiful piece of music to a memory of the past to even a sentimental TV commercial.

I don't know how I got to this mushy state. In my younger days I was always a rough-and- tumble kind of bloke. I played ice hockey (as evidenced by a small scar on my face and knees that crack when I bend them). I played football (as evidenced by a broken collarbone that didn't quite heal correctly and causes me some degree of discomfort on rainy days). And I got into a few fights in my day (as evidenced by the fact that one of my front teeth is a fake). Yet I don't recall crying over any of this. But something happened as I got older, to the point where certain things tend to tug at the heartstrings and cause me to get all misty eyed.

Oh sure, the loss of family members and friends - that's a given. The loss of a pet - another given. But soon I began to get emotional over simple things. Like anything Americana. Like anything nostalgic. When I heard Aaron Copland's "Appalachian Spring" for the first time, start to finish, awash in Americana themes, I found myself with tears streaming down my face. There must be something about Copland that strikes a nerve because his music to "Our Town" did the same thing to me.

Other music has a similar effect. Don't ask me why, but the opening credit music to the Star Trek Voyager TV series chokes me up. Come to think of it, there is something Coplandesque about it. See, I knew there was a logical explanation. The music to Dances With Wolves - the same thing. For some reason, the climatic music toward the end of the movie ET. The theme music to Jurassic Park. Hoagie Carmichael's "Stardust." Certain pieces of music by Vince Guaraldi. Certain pieces by George Winston. Billie Holiday's "Strange Fruit." Any patriotic music done slightly out of key by a middle school orchestra.

Movies really get to me. There are obvious ones, like United 93 which had me at blubber stage from the point when my son put the DVD in the player. Field of Dreams, at the end when Kevin Costner's character plays catch with his dead dad ... oh, boy! The unlikely Christmas movie Prancer - the scene in which the widowed father (played by a gruff Sam Elliot) tears up while telling his eight year old daughter that he can't bear to send her away to live with her aunt even though he can't make ends meet in order to give her the life she deserves - Phew! - It gets me every Christmas season.

And there's something about the Waltons, especially the early years when Grampa and Grandma Walton were still alive and kicking, that just opens the floodgates. Besides the nostalgia factor, and the Americana themes, it is interesting to note that the music is rather Coplandesque - which means that during any given episode I'm being hit from all sides.

Places also cause me to well up. Visiting my childhood hometown of Braintree, Mass makes me weepy. The mountains of New Hampshire. Haigis Beach down in Dennisport. And Washington, DC. My first visit was back in the early 1990's during a business trip. I had a chance to visit all the sites - and I think I welled up at each one. I was able to keep a handle on my emotions until I got to the Lincoln Memorial, where I found it impossible to hold back. Something about that Abraham Lincoln ... and that darn Gettysburg Address!

But the most powerful bit of crying I've ever done, outside of crying for a deceased family member, was following 9/11. I held it together for a couple of days, and then at one point I wandered off to a quiet area of the house, upstairs, away from the kids as I didn't want them to become frightened, and I wept. Even today, whenever I see footage of that day, the plane hitting the second tower, the towers coming down, the Pentagon, the field in Pennsylvania, I find myself fighting back tears.

So, guys of the 21st century - it's okay to cry. Heck, even football players cry when they lose the big game. Or even when they win the big game. But this week, if you see me with watery eyes don't be too concerned. It just means I've been doing my taxes ... perhaps with some Aaron Copland playing in the background.

Jack Sheedy