The other day, I cried for the first time in a very long time. A song came on the radio and in the span of three minutes and 19 seconds, I was reduced to tears. Thankfully, I was driving alone in my car when it happened so no one saw me.
My relationship with tears is a complicated one, to say the least. I would categorize myself as somewhat of a crybaby in my early years. I cried on my first day of school. I cried when I had to miss recess for talking too loudly. I cried when a tornado warning was issued on television. I cried when my dog died. So, as you can see I cried a lot.
That all began to change when I reached the age of 10. After my first decade, my father decided that it was time for me to grow up a little. My dad began to discipline me when he thought it was appropriate.
My dad hated crying and criers. When discipline would come my way, it would often be accompanied by my father saying, "I'm going to beat those tears out of you."
Heaven forbid I start crying before the discipline began. It would make the whooping tougher and in some cases would invite the corporal punishment. My dad loved the adage of giving you something to cry about.
Over the years, I grew up and cried less. It became somewhat of a shock to my system to feel tears on my face. I avoided those circumstances with the same vim and vigor as Hans Brinker's little Dutch boy plugging the dike with his finger.
I get uncomfortable when I see someone crying. It creates in me something of a fight or flight response. I do not know how to handle it in general so I try to remove myself from those situations as quickly as possible.
This brings me back to the song. The lyrics of the song were about a son speaking to his passed-on father. The son was wishing his dad could have met his wife and children. The son was projecting how much his dad would have loved his wife. The song then talked about how the grandchildren would have been so much better if they had known their granddad.
The song made me think of my mother. My mom never got to meet my wife, Victoria. They would have gotten along famously. They both are strong and loving. They both understand me and most importantly, they both made me a better man.
Neither of my two daughters met my mother. She passed on two years before my oldest daughter Ally was born. My girls both grew up somewhat spoiled but I can only imagine how rotten they would be if my mom was around.
I no longer consider myself a crier but that song moved me. Words from another human being who does not know me personally touched me. We share a common experience that allows us to have a connection.
Let us try to think about that when we communicate. Down deep, we all are the same. Yes, we may differ in ideology and experiences but we all share things that make us human.
Kind words can move mountains. Society is more divided today than ever. Kindness will bridge that divide. If we only allow it to.
If words can make an emotionally closed-off jerk like me cry, imagine what it could do for normal folks. It is worth a try.
"What we all have in common is an appreciation of kindness and compassion: all the religions have this. Love. We all lean towards love." -- Richard Gere