I'm a cryer. I have to admit it. There are some Hallmark and AT&T commercials that make me cry. Beautiful music can move me to tears.
The first time I ever recall crying over a book was when Beth dies in "Little Women". I was probably in fourth/fifth grade, and I remember sitting at the kitchen table reading. Mom was making dinner. I distinctly remember getting to that part in the book, feeling the tears welling, and escaping to my room so no one would see I was crying over a book. Since then, I've cried over lots of books: sad parts, happy parts...
I was deeply honored when a review of my first book indicated readers should keep plenty of tissues nearby. To be able to move someone else to tears with my words is an unbelievingly humble thing.
Certain movies make me cry no matter how many times I've seen them. In college my roommate and I watched the movie "Beaches" with Bette Midler. We each lay on our respective dorm room beds, crying silently until the movie was over. It was then we turned to each other and saw tears streaming down the other's cheeks. To this day, if I even see or hear something about that movie, I call my roommate to say hello and tell her how much her friendship means to me. (I'm going to have to give her a call.)
"Apollo 13" is another one that does it for me. The tears start to trickle as soon as the space craft enters the atmosphere. And we wait. And we wait. And the time comes for them to have reemerged, and still we're waiting. When they finally splash down, the tears are coursing in earnest with the sheer cathartic relief of having the crew safely back on Earth.
The first time we saw "Titanic" - the James Cameron version - in the theater, I cried for half the movie. Now this is a three hour and then some movie, so basically I was crying for over an hour and a half. I started when Jack gets accused of stealing the "Heart of the Ocean" necklace and gets carted off. I didn't stop until the credits rolled. Now the tears start in various places: when the sweet old couple is laying on their bed wrapped in each other's arms; when the Irish immigrant mother is reading to her children on a third class bunk: when Jack slips away beneath the waves...
You know...sometimes a good cry is just the thing.
Until next time,
Happy Reading and Happy Thanksgiving!