litmus test

i met a hard-living rancher from west texas who cried at the drop of a hat. our conversations were odd. as he told me about his cattle, the drought and old-world things, he would get choked up and have to look away.  my father, a large man, cried all the time. as an adolescent, it drove me nuts.

i spent a few years reacting against my father's emotionalism (among other freudian behaviors). i didn't, or acted not to cry throughout high school and college.

the more recent fact is that i have less problems with the boohoo-ing. maybe i've matured a bit.  maybe i'm learning to accept the parts of my father in me that drive me nuts.  these are logical explanations.

but i'd prefer to confess this as my litmus test:  if it's beautiful, then it's worth my emotion.  most weeks i celebrate the genius of modern family with a laugh, but ever so often, it's with reddened, moist eyes.  sometimes, after a hard month, i drive and let'em roll, which can be just as dangerous as texting...

today, i'm feeling moved by a good story. creativity does that.


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