There's something in my eye

09/11/14
I think about the Jimmy V "Cancer" speech often.  Sure, some of it's rah-rah-rah stuff.  But this was a man on the edge of death, and he knew his time was very limited.  Facing eternity--head on--must be extremely difficult.  To die suddenly, yes, it's tragic.  But if you can see death approaching from a bit far off, then the anticipation and worry must be seismic. 

Anyhow, he said that there three things you should do every day.  Laugh.  Think.  Cry.

Laughing, I know I do that each and every day.  I enjoy making people laugh, and I enjoy having people make ME laugh.  Laughter is the most unexplainable phenomena.  Things strike us and we make jovial noises.  As babies, we do this.  So it's instinctual--not taught.  I plan on laughing as often as I can because it makes me happy to be alive.

Thinking, I try to do this.  I'm reading a book about Hitchcock's life right now.  Once I was done with teaching AP Language, I instantly loathed the oncoming "cottage cheese" brain which I get doing just broadcasting stuff all day.  Mental stimulation is tantamount to oxygen in day-to-day occurrences, and I don't want to feel like I'm suffocating.  So, I will continue to force myself to think.  Even when the day doesn't require it consistently.

But CRYING.  Crying?!?  I can't just summon tears at a moment's notice.  It takes a huge event to push me to tears--

Well, it used to.  Until recently.  Now, I see a video of a dog's last day at the park before its owners had it put down (like, a slide show) and I well up.  I see a video about a guy with a red bandanna who died on 9/11 today and I well up.  Videos about cancer patients.  Well up.  Autistic kids making three pointers in high school games.  Well up.  Cry.  Cry.  Cry.  I seriously am feeling a lot more in the past few months.  Some may want to revoke the "man card" here--but I think Jimmy V was right.  Crying allows you to feel.  To wholeheartedly feel.  Unabashed.  Calm yet disquieting.

This Welles Crowther--he was a younger man who helped 11 or 12 people out of the south tower on Sept. 11th.  He kept going back INTO the burning building to try to help more people get out.  Eventually, it collapsed and he died.  But seeing his parents--his mother and father--hold back tears;  I don't know.  It just hit me a bit.  You realize how short life can be and that one man helped so many, leaving his family to only hold to his memory as a hero.  Such a tragic story.  But such a great story. 

I think this is just going to happen as I get older.  I'm not sensitive about me.  But I'm sensitive about things around me.  So many times, we are forced to hide our true emotions.  Especially as a male.  I think it's hammered into your brain.  You just shouldn't cry.  Ever. 

But Jimmy V, at the end of his life, had it figured out.  Life is a privilege.  Love is a privilege.  Tears are a privilege.  I see no reason to not indulge, if the mood strikes.