When Did You Last Cry?

162
turnbullac wrote:
LaSalle bon Dioxide wrote:Recently, I came across an MP3 of the blackbox recording of my Dad's flight going down. He was the co-pilot. 150 some people died. I heard him say, "We're going down, Jesus Christ!" and then an enormous boom. I could not fight the tears back.

It was numerous years ago.


Oh man, ben...

There is a picture of my dad and me on my first birthday that I can't even look at because it will totally break me down. He died on 1/17/06. Actually I'm a little warm in the face right now just thinking about it.


I'm sorry. It's tough stuff to handle.

When Did You Last Cry?

167
in february. i was walking back home from university and all of the sudden i realised that since yesterday i've been living more than half of my life without my dad, who died when i was eleven and a half. i can't really say why i reacted so emotionally, but the fact is i was walking with tears in my eyes and this distinct feeling in my stomach trying not to weep in front of other people.



btw, today is my dad's birthday.

When Did You Last Cry?

168
gio wrote:last night, in public, at a rock venue of all places!


Salut Gio! I no see you at this rock venue. If I saw, I'd say CIAO GIO!

But fear not, Longhairs. I too cry at this public rock venue. I cry because the musics, she is so beautiful!

Is this why you cry? The beautiful musics? Is no because you think to hurt yourself, no? Or because somebody else hurt you? Gio! Who hurt you? Why he do this to you! You show him to me. Si, I shame him.

When Did You Last Cry?

170
Well, I didn't cry myself, but I got pretty choked up when one of my students--a very gregarious 53-year-old African American woman named Thelma--said, "How could they do her like that? How could they do that?" and burst into tears. We'd been discussing the passage in the Frederick Douglass' autobiography where he details how his grandmother, after bearing twelve children (all sold into slavery) and working until she was old and frail, was banished to die in a little hut in the woods away from the rest of the slave population.

What followed was one of the most engaged class sessions I have ever been a part of. The class begged me to devote at least part of the next class session to Douglass--not because we hadn't done him justice today but because the material was "too juicy" (Markesha's words) not to savor a little longer.

This is one of those days I love being a teacher.

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