I'm ashamed to say I didn't cry during that story. It brings up so many nice memories from my own life. One day in this class I may cry. I've cried a total of five times in my life, most of them out of anger. You know, it's a privilege to cry.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Starting to see a pattern. Whenever one of the seniors says something especially moving, you just feel thoughts bubbling around the classroom table, and then soon, extremely soon, almost immediately, another senior would speak what's on his or her mind, and the spontaneous followup remark, no matter how short, would always be moving as well, in some unexpected way. I guess when Helen finished reading her story, "An Exciting Outing," I was still "in" it, so I was caught off-guard when Mo opened up to us. And remember, Mo is the guy who is proudly Irish and has the thick skin to prove it, who I know can strike up small talk with strangers at the bar or anyone anywhere really, but who has told me he finds it hard to open up to people about his feelings. (That's why here on our blog, he has a pen name - yup, he made up "Mo" for the purpose of this blog - which disguises his nickname, which disguises his real name.) So picture this, Mo, the biggest man at the table, saying this, teary-eyed: