[For the record (and for Barb), this is my 763rd post. One more than Barry Bonds 762 career home runs. I have no comment on how performance enhancers may have contributed to my impressive stats.]

On Sunday while I was whisking my best girl down to the Cape for a 21 hour mini-vacation (unsuccessfully interrupted by creepy crawling mildew), my lovely daughter Megan illegally unethically hijacked my Facebook account and wrote:

“Leo Daley<— Cried at Toy Story Three. Dad, stop logging onto FB on my MAC!”

In a clear case of piling on, “Work Joyce” (as opposed to “Play Joyce”) commented:

“Sobbed at Toy Story Three. On the other hand, I’m a post-menopausal mother-of-two. What’s your excuse again?”

Due to popular demand, I’ll tell you why, yes, I cried at “Toy Story 3.” I sniffled (it was borderline not even a cry) because there were (mostly) men (toys) in mortal danger, and they faced that peril like men (toys) with the same manly (toyly) courage that made me cry in “Saving Private Ryan.” OK, that’s only partly true. Mostly, what pulled my heartstrings was the possibility I might lose these characters as a connecting thread of my life with my children. There was also a part featuring Andy and his mom that that made me think of Joyce and her son Nick, but she hasn’t seen the movie yet and this ain’t no plot busting blog, but this is.

Three years and six days ago, I posted “72films,” which were not consciously ordered, but curiously 4 of the first 15 jerk tears from my ducts:

  • Field of Dreams“Dad, wanna have a catch?” The idea of “connecting” with your dad after a life of distance…
  • Brian’s Song“I love Brian Piccolo. And tonight, when you hit your knees, please ask God to love him.” I sometimes project myself onto the screen and “live” the film. The idea of losing my best friend when I was 12 was overwhelming.
  • It’s a Wonderful Life“Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives. When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?” Most days we go through this life not thinking of the impact we have on others. Being reminded that someday there will be that awful hole swarms the senses.
  • Forrest Gump“I miss you, Jenny. If there’s anything you need, I won’t be far away.” Oh, man. This special man who absolutely “knows what love is” finally gets his Jenny… then she dies.

Of course movies aren’t the only times I’ve cried, but I’ll simply say those other times involved losing people I loved, even temporarily, or thinking I might. Looking forward, I also see life-affirming experiences and tears of joy, but I’ll just stay right here in this blubbery moment.

So what’s my excuse? I love my life and the people in it. I feel it. I try to blend myself across a wide palette of creamy perception and colorful emotions that allow me to experience its unbounded dimensions. Crying cleanses the soul’s canvas anew for creating life experiences of increasing breadth and depth. Or maybe, as some of the people I love would say, “you’re just a mush.”