You can make me mad. You can call me names. You can be mean to me. Your actions may hurt my feelings but they do not make me cry.
Movies: The shark eats the swimmer. The unsinkable ship sinks and Leonardo DiCaprio freezes in the ocean. Oz's Dorothy's last words, "There's no place like home." The music from Ice Castles. These don't get me teary.
Falling, breaking my left arm in three places and breaking my right hand in three places. No tears. My husband's response when I called him at work and asked him to come home to take me to the ER, "I'll be there in 10 minutes." His job is 20 minutes away on an easy drive day. Tears of thankfulness.
Either of my kids getting in trouble. I'm mad but I don't cry. Anyone complimenting my children, reminding me how wonderful they are. I need a bucket.
Holding my granddaughters for the first time. The second time. The third time. Anytime. Buy stock in Kleenex.
Listening to a moving sermon in church. Seeing new believers baptized. Hearing an "only by the Grace of God go I" testimonial. I am probably sniffling and searching my purse for a fast food napkin to use as a tissue.
Situations in which I cry always catch me off guard. Blubbering, without a fast food napkin, and with eye makeup running down my face is not a public face I like to show.
However, I can count on crying every time at a particular event and I come prepared. Armed, if you will. Waterproof mascara. Plenty of tissue. Enough for my eyes and a lot more for the runny, stuffy nose that follows my crying episodes. No pretty crying here. I'm a wet slobbery mess.
I can count on a good cry a few times a year. At parades. Right out there in public. Parades are what gets me. A patriotic holiday parade. It doesn't matter if I am watching it on television, or from the curb in my hometown, hoping I am on the right side of the street to have the best view of my favorite flutist, or trombonist marching to Louie, Louie. I don't cry. Unless they are playing The Star Spangled Banner. The I'm just pound. Not teary and proud.
To get me crying you have to touch my heart. My granddaughters do. Patriotism does; patriotic holiday parades.