I Swallowed A Lightning Bug

Citizens:

If there is one thing I'm really good at it's crying. I'm a Level 4 expert - and in a perpetual state of dehydration.

At Level 1 the tears flow freely at the usual events: giving birth, attending weddings, funerals, graduations, and really good or bad movies; and when your 18-year-old beagle dies.

Level 2 involves crying at hellos and goodbyes, Olympic medal ceremonies; when other people cry even when you're not sure why, when you're delirious and have a fever of 102, you're really pissed off, and of course, crying while simultaneously laughing in a fetal position (we've all done it).

The more complex Level 3 consists of crying before and after you back your car into a fixed object, wishing you could help someone who is really screwed up when you know you can't, upon hearing your mom's voice when you've had a bad day (yes, even when you're 40), and when your husband buys a mid-life crisis motorcycle. Note: My plan for revenge is to save my tears in a Tupperware container until enough to make a cocktail - and then serve them to Steve McQueen in a martini glass - straight up.

Level 4 goes beyond the norm and consists of crying after 9/11 at the joy of seeing a rat - yes, a filthy rodent - scurrying in the bushes outside your office (an affirmation that life goes on), and crying in 2nd grade while explaining to your teacher that the reason was because you're going to die from accidentally swallowing a lighting bug (firefly) you had trapped in a coke bottle the night before when the real reason was your parents were getting a divorce.

I've cried in every place imaginable - airports, sidewalks, Chinese restaurants, the mall (have you seen the shoe department at Nordstrom?), flower gardens, parking lots, The Louvre, on a swing set, and yes, even at work. Anyone who says there's no crying in Insurance Claims - they lie. Bathroom stalls obviously have more than one purpose and toilet paper is good for trapping the tears, snot and spit that form like a spiderweb over your face - the unfortunate physical side effects of an honest to goodness cry. The one highlight is your eyes appear greener when the swelling goes away.

Before you go off thinking I'm unstable, please know the crying at work thing happens only 1.5 times per year - totally in line with the national average for women crying in the workplace. It's sad but I'm fairly normal.

As an expert, I also have the ability to make grown men cry. I wish I could say it's my voluptuous figure that kills them; it just happens during regular conversation. Just this week I made two men cry.

The first was an encounter with an ex-coworker.

CitizenB: Gosh, I remember when you adopted the stray dog who took up residence in our parking lot - the unofficial office mascot. How is he?

Co-worker: Tearing up. Gulp. He died.

CitizenB: Oh, no. I'm sorry.

Co-worker: Yes, he had an undetected tumor and it erupted causing massive internal bleeding. He couldn't be saved. Now I'm left with my other two dogs and I really don't like them that much.

CitizenB: Yikes. It was nice seeing you.

The second encounter was with a Philadelphia attorney in mediation. I'll spare you the details but yes, I managed to evoke emotion and a tear in the eye of a hardened and burned out insurance defense attorney.

And now to the latest episode of CitizenB weeping:

Last night was a perfect storm for tears. What can I say, it was a typical Friday night.

First, it was the book I've been reading forever A Fraction of the Whole. Here's the excerpt (page 531) that made me cry:

"Dad, I forgive you."
"What for?"
"For everything."
"What everything? What did I ever do to you?"
Who is this irritating man? "It doesn't matter."
"OK."
"Dad, I love you."
"I love you too."
There. We said it. Good.

Or not so good - strangely unsatisfying. We'd just said "I love you." Father and son, at the deathbed of the former, saying we love each other. Why didn't that feel good? This is why: because I knew something that nobody knew or would ever know-what a strange and wonderful man he was. And that's what I really wanted to say.

Tears are spurting and I'm backhanding them out and away so I can see to read and continue to torture myself. After more dying, son throws father's body overboard from the people-smuggling vessel (you have to read the book) and into the sea where he bobs up and down a little like "a carrot thrown whole into a boiling stew." Sniff. Sniff.

Second, it was the book (again). I'm exhausted. And nauseous. But it's finally over. I'm finished. The book is closed but the story is still shooting from the pages - much like hairs sprouting from my husband's nose. Okay, so I can see up his nose as he sleeps next to me. It's a distraction. The book is actually vibrating from so many freaking words (247,962 - my estimate- using the same method as counting jelly beans in a jar to win a door prize) so I threw it across the bed and dried my tears.

Next I decided to watch "Friday Night Lights" on the DVR. I should have known better since I cried during last week's episode when former QB1/current paraplegic Jason Street's girlfriend buckled under the pressure of young motherhood, bundled their baby, packed up the U-Haul and moved to New Jersey to live with her parents leaving Street in his wheelchair behind in the street.

This week Street and current tailback Tim Riggins (the Jordan Catalano of Dillon Football) take a trip to New York City where Street manages to gain a job at a sports agency and an opportunity to be with his son.

Here's the scene when they make it to New Jersey:

Riggins stands by the cab while Street wheels up the walk and stops at the steps to the front door. This is as far as he can go. Fortunately, the girlfriend and baby come out and he doesn't have to yell "Stella!" Street holds his son and through tears gives the most heartbreaking plea ever on a network television drama. There's no way the girlfriend can say no and she doesn't. Cue to Riggins with tears in his eyes - his best friend finally has a shot at real happiness. He'll miss him, heck, the whole state of Texas will miss him.

Okay, I'm wiping returning tears into my ears and squelching weird primal noises coming from within all in an effort not to wake up the sleeping nose. Even Level 4 experts try to hide their tears.

Between the book, TV show, and real life, the father and son drama forced open the flood gates. What a rush.


CitizenB