What Makes Me Cry

Patterns and values

I don’t easily cry. Ten-plus years ago when my brain chemistry was more turbulent I could tap that well a bit easier, but even still, instances were—and remain—few and far between. And really, a full sobbing simply isn’t in the cards… a welling up of emotion, a hint of wetness… that counts. If a lone drip manages a genuine trickle, that’s about as good as it’s going to get.

Now, I wish I could. It would be welcome. Cathartic. I’d love to have a more intimate relationship with a deep catalog of emotions—not just the anger or frustration that seem more easily accessed. So when opportunities arise and I feel a tingle in the ducts, I lean in. But rarely anything comes of it.

Though… sometimes.

Triggers can be random. The right song in the right moment. A laundry detergent commercial that hits. A sappy movie on an airplane—everyone cries a little easier on flights. But they also get weirder. And making sense of the more curious occurrences has been fun for Molly and I to try and unpack over the years. She and I have gotten mileage and laughs trying to understand the through-line of my minor waterworks.

Here’s a few notable moments and take-aways:

• A planetarium screening about NASA’s upcoming Artemis moon mission. Rocket launches already kinda get me, but I found myself welling through the crescendo of mission planning and burning engines. Lay some music over those launches and hammer home the scientific pursuit and the assembly of teams, triumphs, and national resources, and well…

• Watching a documentary on nuclear power. The bit about spinning up micro-reactor domestic manufacturing to power the country really got to me.

• Brotherhood often connects. War stories and firefighters and that sort of thing. Sacrifice and purpose and camaraderie. No real surprise there, but it’s worth noting. At the end of Band of Brothers when they interview the actual men and cement that this actually happened, I’m shook.

• Recently we visited The Field Station, an interactive research outpost in San Francisco’s Presidio. It’s adorned with botanical samples, maps and bones, microscopes and log books. It’s dripping in science and harkens to a yesteryear romantic version that called for exploration and adventure. Kinda reminded me of the artifacts in The Explorer’s Club. I stepped inside for the first time—unaware that the building existed—looked around, and immediately felt tears percolating. That was a weird one. Molly and I eventually reasoned that I was probably taken aback by such a well executed presentation of a collaborative effort to catalog the world and build our understanding of its truths.

• Watching The Pitt, an HBO hospital drama that takes place in a Pittsburg emergency room in real time. I’ve heard it referred to as competency porn. Episode 12 came around—a mass casualty event. This got to me like nothing else in recent memory—maybe because I watched the first four episodes on an airplane, I dunno. We’re talking multiple dewy beads running down my cheeks over the entire forty minute span. It wasn’t the plight of the patients or the tragedy or even the saving of lives… it was what happened once the news of the event came into the hospital: The seasoned veterans who staffed the ER snapped into action, deploying an absolutely dialed contingency plan. This meant new roles, new systems, color-coded vests, tool kits, emergency supplies, and well-oiled protocol. So much (fictional) groundwork paved the way for this (fictional) moment. Those who knew what they were doing really knew what they were doing. Everyone banded together in an effort to save lives, but more than that rosy intention, it was that they were truly getting shit done. Sweet, sexy, logistics…

It wasn’t totally clear at first, but taking these all together and picking apart their makeup, it’s grown obvious that I’ve got a type. It shouldn’t surprise—the themes support what I’ve pegged as my values, more or less. I’ve proselytized about workshops and barn raisings and I romanticize adventure and exploration. Even the call of the moon resonates… But still, this new understanding of what gets me going is satisfying to nail down, and helps to put a finer point on what really matters to me.

It seems I’ve got a deep appreciation for what I see as the best of humanity… Standing on the shoulders of giants and atop centuries of knowledge, expertise, and competency. Learning, and applying those lessons toward some aspirational project or goal. Daring to do something, and working—sacrificing—as a team to achieve the moment. Getting shit done.

For me, it doesn’t get much more impressive. Or important. And apparently—if the moonshot logistics are just right—it’s enough to make me cry.

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