Everytime I hear someone sing the National Anthem before any game my lip begins to quiver. Kinda lame, kinda not I suppose. Whatever. And I can admit what you're ALL hiding, Little House. There I said it.
I wept like a little girl at the end of the series. God, I loved that series. Those guys were absolute heroes. One of the greatest moments of my recent life was getting to meet Babe Heffron. I'd love to meet Bill Guarnere. If I'm fortunate to meet Babe again, I'm totally offering to buy them beers if I can hang out with them. Anything with dogs dying or getting lost forever will do it too. EDIT: Holy fuck, how could I forget that SPCA or Animal Group (not PETA) that uses the Sarah McGlaughlin video, and the pictures of the animals with things like 'why did you abandon me' etc. Holy fuck, I'm welling up now just thinking about it. I'm such a pussy, but in my defense... Anything with kids getting hurt just makes me laugh.
I have to admit Band of Brothers stirred up some emotions, but nothing strong enough to bring me to tears. The only time I've really teared up out of all the shit I've seen and dealt with is during the movie Rudy. The guy just wanted to play...
Now, I know that the following story isn't true. I know that some writer made it up one day because it sounded like a neat idea. That being said, I can't read this thing without wanting to openly weep. Spoiler They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street. But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did. But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new, tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike. For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls - he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to. I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it. He never really seemed to listen when I called his name - sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth of fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey. This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes. I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for the two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cellphone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for in the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "**** dog probably hid it on me." Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter. I tossed the pad in Reggie's direction and he sniffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction - maybe "glared" is more accurate - and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down. With his back to me. Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number. But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that, too. "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud, "let's see if your previous owner has any advice.".... ..... ____________ To Whoever Gets My Dog: Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this, it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab after dropping him off at the shelter. He knew something was different. I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it's like he knew something was wrong. And something is wrong, which is why I have to go to try to make it right. So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you. First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he's part squirrel, the way he hordes them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly. Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones - "sit," "stay," "come," "heel." He knows hand signals: "back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down - I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business. I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hotdog. Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning, and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand. He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car - I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows. Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially. Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new. And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you.... His name's not Reggie. I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything is fine. But if someone else is reading it, well... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems. His real name is Tank. Because that is what I drive. Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call the shelter... in the "event"... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word. Well, this letter is getting to downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family. But still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me. That unconditional love from a dog is what I took with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I had to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He was my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades. All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth. Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight – every night - from me. Thank you, Paul Mallory ____________ _________ _________ _______ I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer. I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog. "Hey, Tank," I said quietly. The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright. "C'mere boy." He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months. "Tank," I whispered. His tail swished. I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him. "It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?" Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth. Animal stories can make me cry. Animal stories about labs that encapsulate their personality and their effects on our lives? Open the floodgates.
I was kind of surprised to see someone on here mention Where the Red Fern Grows, but that one gets me too. I usually get teary-eyed at happy endings in things. For example weddings. During Jim and Pam's wedding episode I was going back and forth between almost crying and cracking up between the boat and dance scenes. Phoebe's wedding in Friends gets me too. House and even Scrubs (the good ones) can get me teary eyed a lot too. And, of course, Holocaust movies. Schindler's List, Life is Beautiful, The Pianist...they all get me. EDIT: How could I forget the Friends finale. And also, the second Scrubs finale.
We need a new warning label - NSFGRFW - Not safe for getting ready for work After THAT gut-wrenching little tale, I need to completely start my makeup over. That will be after I stop the post-sobbing hiccuping. I need a note for work.
I watched all five seasons of Six Feet Under over a two month span and I can say it was the most emotionally draining thing I have ever been part of. Multiple times throughout the show I got teary eyed but I totally lost it that last nine minutes of the finale. That is how a show should close up shop and I am hoping Lost doesn't disappoint with their final season. I've gotten a bit glassy-eyed with Lost a few times as well. Sometimes certain boxing fights give me chills and goosebumps because of the emotions it evokes. Corrales-Castillo and Gatti-Ward are definitely up there. HBO's Legendary Nights documentaries about Meldrick Taylor-Julio Cesar Chavez and Mike Tyson-Buster Douglas always make me tear up a bit. More recently, the documentary Kassim the Dream about this fighter from Uganda named Kassim Ouma who was turned into a soldier at eight years old and somehow escaped it to become a world champion in America. Real stories in boxing are often more amazing than anything you see in Rocky.
I've never cried watching TV or movies. I don't know if that means I'm somehow broken, or detached from my feelings, but I know that what's happening in the show isn't happening to real people, so what's to get upset about? I guess part of it too, is that I don't get attached to characters in movies, so I really don't care too much what happens to them. If I'm watching something that's non-fiction, it's usually ruined for me, because the producers are trying so hard to drag an emotional response from you, rather than just telling the story and letting you have your own natural reaction. I know that's all part and parcel of television, but it just has the opposite effect on me....it makes me less interested in what's happening. In order for me to cry, it would need to be something that directly happens in my life that I'm emotianlly invested in, like my family or friends.
Animal stories really get me. This is a true one that can get me going: http://marilynshideaway.com/oogy.html
Focus: Requiem For A Dream, the part in the end with Spoiler the two old ladies crying on the bench gets me every single time. This kid is AWESOME! Seriously, I kind of want to be friends with him just so I can watch him lose his shit. I don't think I'd ever get bored. That is, until he shoots up his high school this fall. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 (go figure, they're Cowboys fans) I can't figure out if these are fake or not, but they're awesome either way.
I'm as human as anyone else, I suppose, but I hardly ever cry openly. It's as though that bodily function just doesn't work for me. I've even gotten shit for it, when I was comforting a weeping woman, feeling absolutely crushed but completely unable to express it with waterworks. However, when I thought my cat had escaped into the snow, I did scream a lot. And when I was 11, and saw the dancing shoe get dipped in turpentine (in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?), I was deeply disturbed.
Jesus dude...I almost started crying right here in my office. I forget about those types of stories getting to me, but anything about a man and his dog like that really gets me.
Ugh. Extreme Makeover: Home Edition gets me every time. If I watch it, I have to watch it alone because I know the waterworks are coming.
I mentioned Saving Private Ryan on the other thread. But other than that, the only other fictional story that has ever made me cry is Of Mice and Men. I haven't read it since junior high, but I remember crying like a little girl at the end when George (I think that's his name) shoots Lennie in the back. To make it even worse, my dad came in the room when I had tears rolling down my cheeks and gave me shit for crying over a book. It was more embarrassing than the time he caught me pounding my pud. Oh yeah, Dumbo too. I just saw it again about a year ago and fought back the tears when Dumbo's mom is in jail and she puts her trunk out the window and rocks Dumbo and the music is all sad and stuff.
Dammit, people. Why must y'all do this? This place is supposed to be happy, cynical, and inappropriately sexual. Let's lighten the mood a bit, shall we?
Just so you know, that elephant was taken from its mother at birth. It has no mommy and no daddy and no one to love it. Oh and its not playing with water. It's the aftermath of being water boarded. In Somalia. By pirates. Sorry I had to make it relevant to the thread somehow.
Stepmom makes me weep. Spoiler Isabel: You know every story, every wound, every memory. Their whole life's happiness is wrapped up in you. Don't you get it? Look down the road at her wedding. I'm in a room, alone with her, fitting her veil, fluffing her dress, telling her no woman has ever looked that beautiful. And my fear is that she'll be thinking, I wish my mom was here. Jackie: And mine is, she won't. Floodgates successfully opened. Also... Videos of soldiers coming home to their kids and/or pets. Every book that Nicholas Sparks has ever written. ASPCA commercials.
Wow, I wasn't gonna reply and out myself as a total pussy but you reminded me of a very specific moment from an episode of ER. There was one episode where this guy came in and I don't even remember what his problem was (and the rest of this may not make sense because all my knowledge of medicine comes from ER) but his heart would not pump on its own, and so the doctors kept having to keep doing chest compressions the whole time to keep blood flowing to his brain, and if they stopped he would die. This went on for so long, and the doctors were getting tired, and the guy's family eventually came in I think, and after he said goodbye to them the patient eventually told the doctors to stop working on him, and he died. There was such a confluence of factors there I just had tears streaming down my cheeks throughout the entire scene. I've had a few teary-eye moments from ER before, but that one was the most intense.
Alt-Focus: I think the most hilarious cavalcade of assholes was watching all the sob sisters walking out of TITANIC at any given moment at any theatre in the world twelve years ago. Leo didn't have the sense to push Winslet off the floating door, so he froze to death and was crushed to a pulp by the ocean depths. Get over it. You probably flipped past any footage of Haiti on CNN at the speed of light, so don't get so choked up just because isn't wasn't you getting painted like one of his French girls. Focus: The opening kickoff for the Wasshington Redskins every season, because I know what's coming next: Catastrophic failure.