Parting’s Such Sweet Sorrow (Not!)

Royalharlotfront_cover
by Susan/Miranda

I’m newly returned from vacation at the same place where Loretta is now (Cape Cod, Massachusetts.)  Like Loretta, my vacation involves much reading, plus a great deal of therapeutic knitting. Also like Loretta, I, too, am by nature the proverbial whiter shade of pale, and can cope with the beach only with copious amounts of sun block.  Bronzed goddesses, we are not.

But now that I’m home, I’ve been thrown into a whirlwind of frantic activity that is destroying any shred of lingering vacation tranquility. There’s endless laundry, endless packing, and endless trips to Staples, and Ikea, and the Home Depot, and Barnes & Noble, and every other place with smiling salespeople eager to relieve me of my charge card.  In short, it’s time to ship my son back off to college, with the vast quantity of worldly goods that teenagers seem to find essential for survival. 

And when the time comes to say good-bye, I’ll cry. 

There’s absolutely no good reason for this, of course.  Such separations are a necessary part of growing up. My son is happy, healthy, and handsome, and he has finally learned not to talk with his mouth full.  His school lies in an idyllic setting snugged in the mountains, deserving of its nickname of “Happy Valley.” He has plenty of friends and a steady, charming girlfriend, two part-time jobs he enjoys, and always makes the Dean’s List.  Thanks to the miracle of modern technology, he’ll call home often, and e-mail, too. 

(And my more reasonable side reminds me how much perilous things could be.  One of my closest friends just packed her youngest son off to West Point, where, as she says, “he has spent the summer playing with guns and grenades –– but under adult supervision, of course.” It’s what awaits after graduation that worries her the most, and with good reason, too.)

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Yet still I’ll cry, just as I cried when I first left him at nursery school.  In most matters, I’m sturdy and sensible, but there’s something about goodbyes that reduce me to sobbing water-works that would do a hired mourner at a Victorian funeral proud.  Goodbyes may mean the beginning of a new chapter in life, but they also signal the ending of another one, and that, I suppose, is the part that gets to me.  I cry whenever I see a bride and groom go off in their bedecked honeymoon car.  I cry at Romeo and Juliet, and at cheesy telephone commercials. I cry when I drive friends or relatives to the train or airport. Both Royal Harlot and Duchess ended with farewells (which I suppose shows that while they had romantic elements, they weren’t really romances), and I cried — sobbed! — as I wrote the last pages. When I worked at colleges, I’d cry at every graduation and reunion.

I don’t even want to consider how I would have handled the kind of farewells common in the past (and inLastofengland_3
our books) is beyond me.  In the time before globe-hopping and instant communication, any farewell could well be final.  A woman sending her beloved off to fight in the Crusades, or at Gettysburg, or the Crimea, might not learn his fate for months, or even years, after his departure.  Going off to make one’s fortune could be just as hazardous, whether that fortune lay in London, or the California gold mines, or halfway around the world with the East India Company.  For every new immigrant eager for the first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, there were others lamenting what was left behind, as in this famously poignant painting by Ford Maddox Brown, “The Last of England.

All of which is a roundabout way of saying that this is one more reason why historical romances can prove so satisfying for readers.  The French Thesailorsfarewell_2
Lieutenant’s Woman may still be waiting for her lover, but in our books, devotion is always rewarded.  Our heroines sleep with tear-stained love-letters beneath their pillows, but there’s never any doubt in our readers’ minds that the heroes will return.  No proper romance hero or heroine is faithless.  No one changes his or her mind, or gets too lonely and finds someone else.  Love will always survive the tests of distance, time, and bad communications.  The promise that “they lived happily ever after” carries with it the additional implication that they lived that way together, without any further goodbyes or separations.

If that’s only one more example of what makes a “sappy romance novel,” well then, so be it.  Among happy fantasies, surely always coming home must be one of the happiest, and the most satisfying, too.

So where do you stand on farewells?  Are you stoic, or a sentimental weeper like me?  And do you find a good farewell in a romance serves to heighten the magic of the reunion? Or do you prefer a good-bye on the last page that leaves the future more open for the characters — as in, say, Gone With the Wind?

90 thoughts on “Parting’s Such Sweet Sorrow (Not!)”

  1. Weeping (or not), for me, seems to be age-related. In my youth, I would cry at the slightest provocation and sometimes keep on crying for hours. It was ghastly. Puffy eyes, red nose, throbbing head… Hormones didn’t help — during pregnancy, I cried over reruns of Lassie. I spent a whole day weeping when we moved during high school and left my boyfriend behind. (Once the farewell was over, though, the tears dried quickly — out of sight, quite soon out of mind.) The older I get, the harder it is to cry. I’m not stoic; it’s just that crying takes too much energy, so it’s easier not to.
    In romance, I crave the happily ever after. My favorite farewell and reunion are in Tracy Grant’s Shores of Desire, because not only do the h&h part when he goes off to battle, but unbeknownst to her, he’s fighting for the other side… so the reunion is excruciating. It’s a wonderful story.

    Reply
  2. Weeping (or not), for me, seems to be age-related. In my youth, I would cry at the slightest provocation and sometimes keep on crying for hours. It was ghastly. Puffy eyes, red nose, throbbing head… Hormones didn’t help — during pregnancy, I cried over reruns of Lassie. I spent a whole day weeping when we moved during high school and left my boyfriend behind. (Once the farewell was over, though, the tears dried quickly — out of sight, quite soon out of mind.) The older I get, the harder it is to cry. I’m not stoic; it’s just that crying takes too much energy, so it’s easier not to.
    In romance, I crave the happily ever after. My favorite farewell and reunion are in Tracy Grant’s Shores of Desire, because not only do the h&h part when he goes off to battle, but unbeknownst to her, he’s fighting for the other side… so the reunion is excruciating. It’s a wonderful story.

    Reply
  3. Weeping (or not), for me, seems to be age-related. In my youth, I would cry at the slightest provocation and sometimes keep on crying for hours. It was ghastly. Puffy eyes, red nose, throbbing head… Hormones didn’t help — during pregnancy, I cried over reruns of Lassie. I spent a whole day weeping when we moved during high school and left my boyfriend behind. (Once the farewell was over, though, the tears dried quickly — out of sight, quite soon out of mind.) The older I get, the harder it is to cry. I’m not stoic; it’s just that crying takes too much energy, so it’s easier not to.
    In romance, I crave the happily ever after. My favorite farewell and reunion are in Tracy Grant’s Shores of Desire, because not only do the h&h part when he goes off to battle, but unbeknownst to her, he’s fighting for the other side… so the reunion is excruciating. It’s a wonderful story.

    Reply
  4. Weeping (or not), for me, seems to be age-related. In my youth, I would cry at the slightest provocation and sometimes keep on crying for hours. It was ghastly. Puffy eyes, red nose, throbbing head… Hormones didn’t help — during pregnancy, I cried over reruns of Lassie. I spent a whole day weeping when we moved during high school and left my boyfriend behind. (Once the farewell was over, though, the tears dried quickly — out of sight, quite soon out of mind.) The older I get, the harder it is to cry. I’m not stoic; it’s just that crying takes too much energy, so it’s easier not to.
    In romance, I crave the happily ever after. My favorite farewell and reunion are in Tracy Grant’s Shores of Desire, because not only do the h&h part when he goes off to battle, but unbeknownst to her, he’s fighting for the other side… so the reunion is excruciating. It’s a wonderful story.

    Reply
  5. Weeping (or not), for me, seems to be age-related. In my youth, I would cry at the slightest provocation and sometimes keep on crying for hours. It was ghastly. Puffy eyes, red nose, throbbing head… Hormones didn’t help — during pregnancy, I cried over reruns of Lassie. I spent a whole day weeping when we moved during high school and left my boyfriend behind. (Once the farewell was over, though, the tears dried quickly — out of sight, quite soon out of mind.) The older I get, the harder it is to cry. I’m not stoic; it’s just that crying takes too much energy, so it’s easier not to.
    In romance, I crave the happily ever after. My favorite farewell and reunion are in Tracy Grant’s Shores of Desire, because not only do the h&h part when he goes off to battle, but unbeknownst to her, he’s fighting for the other side… so the reunion is excruciating. It’s a wonderful story.

    Reply
  6. Does anyone remember the Hallmark Christmas commercial, where the two brothers always sang together at Christmas, and then the older one went away to college, and it snowed really bad, so the little guy had to start singing alone, but then… the older brother arrives, just in time to do harmony on the chorus! F-A-LL ON YOUR KN-E-E-S! OH, HE-A-R THE ANGEL VO-I-CES!…If you did NOT cry during that commercial, you are a cold hard witch and I despair for your spirit,really. I wept into my keyboard just remembering it. Reunions involving kids are the ones that reduce me to tears every time..remember the end of “The Railway Children”? and “The Secret Garden”? And when Aslan dies, but comes back and greets Lucy and Susan? Sniffle City, folks, I swear. Happy tears are the only ones I like to shed for a story, though. I don’t like tragedy in my Romance novels. Love those sentimental reunions and satisfying closures!

    Reply
  7. Does anyone remember the Hallmark Christmas commercial, where the two brothers always sang together at Christmas, and then the older one went away to college, and it snowed really bad, so the little guy had to start singing alone, but then… the older brother arrives, just in time to do harmony on the chorus! F-A-LL ON YOUR KN-E-E-S! OH, HE-A-R THE ANGEL VO-I-CES!…If you did NOT cry during that commercial, you are a cold hard witch and I despair for your spirit,really. I wept into my keyboard just remembering it. Reunions involving kids are the ones that reduce me to tears every time..remember the end of “The Railway Children”? and “The Secret Garden”? And when Aslan dies, but comes back and greets Lucy and Susan? Sniffle City, folks, I swear. Happy tears are the only ones I like to shed for a story, though. I don’t like tragedy in my Romance novels. Love those sentimental reunions and satisfying closures!

    Reply
  8. Does anyone remember the Hallmark Christmas commercial, where the two brothers always sang together at Christmas, and then the older one went away to college, and it snowed really bad, so the little guy had to start singing alone, but then… the older brother arrives, just in time to do harmony on the chorus! F-A-LL ON YOUR KN-E-E-S! OH, HE-A-R THE ANGEL VO-I-CES!…If you did NOT cry during that commercial, you are a cold hard witch and I despair for your spirit,really. I wept into my keyboard just remembering it. Reunions involving kids are the ones that reduce me to tears every time..remember the end of “The Railway Children”? and “The Secret Garden”? And when Aslan dies, but comes back and greets Lucy and Susan? Sniffle City, folks, I swear. Happy tears are the only ones I like to shed for a story, though. I don’t like tragedy in my Romance novels. Love those sentimental reunions and satisfying closures!

    Reply
  9. Does anyone remember the Hallmark Christmas commercial, where the two brothers always sang together at Christmas, and then the older one went away to college, and it snowed really bad, so the little guy had to start singing alone, but then… the older brother arrives, just in time to do harmony on the chorus! F-A-LL ON YOUR KN-E-E-S! OH, HE-A-R THE ANGEL VO-I-CES!…If you did NOT cry during that commercial, you are a cold hard witch and I despair for your spirit,really. I wept into my keyboard just remembering it. Reunions involving kids are the ones that reduce me to tears every time..remember the end of “The Railway Children”? and “The Secret Garden”? And when Aslan dies, but comes back and greets Lucy and Susan? Sniffle City, folks, I swear. Happy tears are the only ones I like to shed for a story, though. I don’t like tragedy in my Romance novels. Love those sentimental reunions and satisfying closures!

    Reply
  10. Does anyone remember the Hallmark Christmas commercial, where the two brothers always sang together at Christmas, and then the older one went away to college, and it snowed really bad, so the little guy had to start singing alone, but then… the older brother arrives, just in time to do harmony on the chorus! F-A-LL ON YOUR KN-E-E-S! OH, HE-A-R THE ANGEL VO-I-CES!…If you did NOT cry during that commercial, you are a cold hard witch and I despair for your spirit,really. I wept into my keyboard just remembering it. Reunions involving kids are the ones that reduce me to tears every time..remember the end of “The Railway Children”? and “The Secret Garden”? And when Aslan dies, but comes back and greets Lucy and Susan? Sniffle City, folks, I swear. Happy tears are the only ones I like to shed for a story, though. I don’t like tragedy in my Romance novels. Love those sentimental reunions and satisfying closures!

    Reply
  11. I weep copiously over sad books and movies. Just thinking about Rilla of Ingleside makes me teary, and Steel Magnolias, Life is Beautiful, and even Bambi make me cry every time I see them. Sad songs make me weep too–“Autumn Leaves,” “Tears in Heaven,” “I Will Remember You.” I cry at graduations and some weddings. But I turn stoical when confronted with the truly painful. I have come through the death and funeral of a loved one dry-eyed, only to disintegrate into helpless tears over an old shirt days later.

    Reply
  12. I weep copiously over sad books and movies. Just thinking about Rilla of Ingleside makes me teary, and Steel Magnolias, Life is Beautiful, and even Bambi make me cry every time I see them. Sad songs make me weep too–“Autumn Leaves,” “Tears in Heaven,” “I Will Remember You.” I cry at graduations and some weddings. But I turn stoical when confronted with the truly painful. I have come through the death and funeral of a loved one dry-eyed, only to disintegrate into helpless tears over an old shirt days later.

    Reply
  13. I weep copiously over sad books and movies. Just thinking about Rilla of Ingleside makes me teary, and Steel Magnolias, Life is Beautiful, and even Bambi make me cry every time I see them. Sad songs make me weep too–“Autumn Leaves,” “Tears in Heaven,” “I Will Remember You.” I cry at graduations and some weddings. But I turn stoical when confronted with the truly painful. I have come through the death and funeral of a loved one dry-eyed, only to disintegrate into helpless tears over an old shirt days later.

    Reply
  14. I weep copiously over sad books and movies. Just thinking about Rilla of Ingleside makes me teary, and Steel Magnolias, Life is Beautiful, and even Bambi make me cry every time I see them. Sad songs make me weep too–“Autumn Leaves,” “Tears in Heaven,” “I Will Remember You.” I cry at graduations and some weddings. But I turn stoical when confronted with the truly painful. I have come through the death and funeral of a loved one dry-eyed, only to disintegrate into helpless tears over an old shirt days later.

    Reply
  15. I weep copiously over sad books and movies. Just thinking about Rilla of Ingleside makes me teary, and Steel Magnolias, Life is Beautiful, and even Bambi make me cry every time I see them. Sad songs make me weep too–“Autumn Leaves,” “Tears in Heaven,” “I Will Remember You.” I cry at graduations and some weddings. But I turn stoical when confronted with the truly painful. I have come through the death and funeral of a loved one dry-eyed, only to disintegrate into helpless tears over an old shirt days later.

    Reply
  16. Like Janga, I’m a stoic in the face of the truly painful. In general, I try not to cry in public at all–nothing like being teased for a crybaby at the age of six to MAKE one a stoic! And when I do cry, it’s often about anger or embarrassment rather than grief or feeling moved.
    That said…I *cannot* watch the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life without weeping. Same for Shawshank Redemption, only if anything it’s worse. Also at the end of Glory where the white regiments are cheering on the 54th as they’re marching off to storm the fort. Maybe I’m a bigger sap than I thought…

    Reply
  17. Like Janga, I’m a stoic in the face of the truly painful. In general, I try not to cry in public at all–nothing like being teased for a crybaby at the age of six to MAKE one a stoic! And when I do cry, it’s often about anger or embarrassment rather than grief or feeling moved.
    That said…I *cannot* watch the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life without weeping. Same for Shawshank Redemption, only if anything it’s worse. Also at the end of Glory where the white regiments are cheering on the 54th as they’re marching off to storm the fort. Maybe I’m a bigger sap than I thought…

    Reply
  18. Like Janga, I’m a stoic in the face of the truly painful. In general, I try not to cry in public at all–nothing like being teased for a crybaby at the age of six to MAKE one a stoic! And when I do cry, it’s often about anger or embarrassment rather than grief or feeling moved.
    That said…I *cannot* watch the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life without weeping. Same for Shawshank Redemption, only if anything it’s worse. Also at the end of Glory where the white regiments are cheering on the 54th as they’re marching off to storm the fort. Maybe I’m a bigger sap than I thought…

    Reply
  19. Like Janga, I’m a stoic in the face of the truly painful. In general, I try not to cry in public at all–nothing like being teased for a crybaby at the age of six to MAKE one a stoic! And when I do cry, it’s often about anger or embarrassment rather than grief or feeling moved.
    That said…I *cannot* watch the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life without weeping. Same for Shawshank Redemption, only if anything it’s worse. Also at the end of Glory where the white regiments are cheering on the 54th as they’re marching off to storm the fort. Maybe I’m a bigger sap than I thought…

    Reply
  20. Like Janga, I’m a stoic in the face of the truly painful. In general, I try not to cry in public at all–nothing like being teased for a crybaby at the age of six to MAKE one a stoic! And when I do cry, it’s often about anger or embarrassment rather than grief or feeling moved.
    That said…I *cannot* watch the ending of It’s a Wonderful Life without weeping. Same for Shawshank Redemption, only if anything it’s worse. Also at the end of Glory where the white regiments are cheering on the 54th as they’re marching off to storm the fort. Maybe I’m a bigger sap than I thought…

    Reply
  21. From age 13 when I cried because my dog had run away (NOT later when we found her), I did not shed one tear for six years. I’m a tough cookie, I am. I can see my kids off to any school at all with a cheerful wave and a “whew, what now?” But one afternoon when I was listening to a Christmas CD and “Lord of the Dance” came on (nothing to do with that Flatley guy), I sat down and BAWLED. And weddings get to me. Some sad things, some happy things; it’s an unfathomable mix. I’m sure there’s an underlying rationale, but I’m kind of scared to discover what it is! Some depths are better left unplumbed.

    Reply
  22. From age 13 when I cried because my dog had run away (NOT later when we found her), I did not shed one tear for six years. I’m a tough cookie, I am. I can see my kids off to any school at all with a cheerful wave and a “whew, what now?” But one afternoon when I was listening to a Christmas CD and “Lord of the Dance” came on (nothing to do with that Flatley guy), I sat down and BAWLED. And weddings get to me. Some sad things, some happy things; it’s an unfathomable mix. I’m sure there’s an underlying rationale, but I’m kind of scared to discover what it is! Some depths are better left unplumbed.

    Reply
  23. From age 13 when I cried because my dog had run away (NOT later when we found her), I did not shed one tear for six years. I’m a tough cookie, I am. I can see my kids off to any school at all with a cheerful wave and a “whew, what now?” But one afternoon when I was listening to a Christmas CD and “Lord of the Dance” came on (nothing to do with that Flatley guy), I sat down and BAWLED. And weddings get to me. Some sad things, some happy things; it’s an unfathomable mix. I’m sure there’s an underlying rationale, but I’m kind of scared to discover what it is! Some depths are better left unplumbed.

    Reply
  24. From age 13 when I cried because my dog had run away (NOT later when we found her), I did not shed one tear for six years. I’m a tough cookie, I am. I can see my kids off to any school at all with a cheerful wave and a “whew, what now?” But one afternoon when I was listening to a Christmas CD and “Lord of the Dance” came on (nothing to do with that Flatley guy), I sat down and BAWLED. And weddings get to me. Some sad things, some happy things; it’s an unfathomable mix. I’m sure there’s an underlying rationale, but I’m kind of scared to discover what it is! Some depths are better left unplumbed.

    Reply
  25. From age 13 when I cried because my dog had run away (NOT later when we found her), I did not shed one tear for six years. I’m a tough cookie, I am. I can see my kids off to any school at all with a cheerful wave and a “whew, what now?” But one afternoon when I was listening to a Christmas CD and “Lord of the Dance” came on (nothing to do with that Flatley guy), I sat down and BAWLED. And weddings get to me. Some sad things, some happy things; it’s an unfathomable mix. I’m sure there’s an underlying rationale, but I’m kind of scared to discover what it is! Some depths are better left unplumbed.

    Reply
  26. Fascinating discussion! Maggie, like Sherrie “G”, may be my soul sister. I can weep copiously over ads and books and sentimental songs, but the only farewells I wept over were ones where I didn’t know for certain the person would be returning. (My husband was shipped overseas, for instance. Tears nightly) Perhaps I cry when things are beyond my control? I knew I could visit the kids in college. I always know I can visit friends whenever I want, no matter how far away. I don’t weep over those farewells. But one cannot bring back a dead loved one.
    Although what control has to do with sappy commercials, I can’t say!

    Reply
  27. Fascinating discussion! Maggie, like Sherrie “G”, may be my soul sister. I can weep copiously over ads and books and sentimental songs, but the only farewells I wept over were ones where I didn’t know for certain the person would be returning. (My husband was shipped overseas, for instance. Tears nightly) Perhaps I cry when things are beyond my control? I knew I could visit the kids in college. I always know I can visit friends whenever I want, no matter how far away. I don’t weep over those farewells. But one cannot bring back a dead loved one.
    Although what control has to do with sappy commercials, I can’t say!

    Reply
  28. Fascinating discussion! Maggie, like Sherrie “G”, may be my soul sister. I can weep copiously over ads and books and sentimental songs, but the only farewells I wept over were ones where I didn’t know for certain the person would be returning. (My husband was shipped overseas, for instance. Tears nightly) Perhaps I cry when things are beyond my control? I knew I could visit the kids in college. I always know I can visit friends whenever I want, no matter how far away. I don’t weep over those farewells. But one cannot bring back a dead loved one.
    Although what control has to do with sappy commercials, I can’t say!

    Reply
  29. Fascinating discussion! Maggie, like Sherrie “G”, may be my soul sister. I can weep copiously over ads and books and sentimental songs, but the only farewells I wept over were ones where I didn’t know for certain the person would be returning. (My husband was shipped overseas, for instance. Tears nightly) Perhaps I cry when things are beyond my control? I knew I could visit the kids in college. I always know I can visit friends whenever I want, no matter how far away. I don’t weep over those farewells. But one cannot bring back a dead loved one.
    Although what control has to do with sappy commercials, I can’t say!

    Reply
  30. Fascinating discussion! Maggie, like Sherrie “G”, may be my soul sister. I can weep copiously over ads and books and sentimental songs, but the only farewells I wept over were ones where I didn’t know for certain the person would be returning. (My husband was shipped overseas, for instance. Tears nightly) Perhaps I cry when things are beyond my control? I knew I could visit the kids in college. I always know I can visit friends whenever I want, no matter how far away. I don’t weep over those farewells. But one cannot bring back a dead loved one.
    Although what control has to do with sappy commercials, I can’t say!

    Reply
  31. I cry when I’m angry. The tears of frustration rise unbidden. I cry at loved ones’ funerals. The only farewell tears I remember were when I took my daughter, my eldest, to college some 1000+ miles from home and had to leave her there.

    Reply
  32. I cry when I’m angry. The tears of frustration rise unbidden. I cry at loved ones’ funerals. The only farewell tears I remember were when I took my daughter, my eldest, to college some 1000+ miles from home and had to leave her there.

    Reply
  33. I cry when I’m angry. The tears of frustration rise unbidden. I cry at loved ones’ funerals. The only farewell tears I remember were when I took my daughter, my eldest, to college some 1000+ miles from home and had to leave her there.

    Reply
  34. I cry when I’m angry. The tears of frustration rise unbidden. I cry at loved ones’ funerals. The only farewell tears I remember were when I took my daughter, my eldest, to college some 1000+ miles from home and had to leave her there.

    Reply
  35. I cry when I’m angry. The tears of frustration rise unbidden. I cry at loved ones’ funerals. The only farewell tears I remember were when I took my daughter, my eldest, to college some 1000+ miles from home and had to leave her there.

    Reply
  36. My crying is sporadic and irrational. Pregnancy hormones certainly had an effect, even if for only a limited time (cried over the GE commercial when the mom takes the teddy bear out of the dryer for her little one). Some movies can do it too (cried at the end of “Robin & Marian” because Sean Connery and Aubrey Hepburn made me care so much about these mythic characters). Real Life rarely makes me cry (I’ve go through most weddings and funerals dry-eyed). But I put my head on my desk at work and sobbed when I got my son’s e-mail that he was being sent to war. Perhaps Patricia is right — it’s the lack of control and not knowing if he will come back.

    Reply
  37. My crying is sporadic and irrational. Pregnancy hormones certainly had an effect, even if for only a limited time (cried over the GE commercial when the mom takes the teddy bear out of the dryer for her little one). Some movies can do it too (cried at the end of “Robin & Marian” because Sean Connery and Aubrey Hepburn made me care so much about these mythic characters). Real Life rarely makes me cry (I’ve go through most weddings and funerals dry-eyed). But I put my head on my desk at work and sobbed when I got my son’s e-mail that he was being sent to war. Perhaps Patricia is right — it’s the lack of control and not knowing if he will come back.

    Reply
  38. My crying is sporadic and irrational. Pregnancy hormones certainly had an effect, even if for only a limited time (cried over the GE commercial when the mom takes the teddy bear out of the dryer for her little one). Some movies can do it too (cried at the end of “Robin & Marian” because Sean Connery and Aubrey Hepburn made me care so much about these mythic characters). Real Life rarely makes me cry (I’ve go through most weddings and funerals dry-eyed). But I put my head on my desk at work and sobbed when I got my son’s e-mail that he was being sent to war. Perhaps Patricia is right — it’s the lack of control and not knowing if he will come back.

    Reply
  39. My crying is sporadic and irrational. Pregnancy hormones certainly had an effect, even if for only a limited time (cried over the GE commercial when the mom takes the teddy bear out of the dryer for her little one). Some movies can do it too (cried at the end of “Robin & Marian” because Sean Connery and Aubrey Hepburn made me care so much about these mythic characters). Real Life rarely makes me cry (I’ve go through most weddings and funerals dry-eyed). But I put my head on my desk at work and sobbed when I got my son’s e-mail that he was being sent to war. Perhaps Patricia is right — it’s the lack of control and not knowing if he will come back.

    Reply
  40. My crying is sporadic and irrational. Pregnancy hormones certainly had an effect, even if for only a limited time (cried over the GE commercial when the mom takes the teddy bear out of the dryer for her little one). Some movies can do it too (cried at the end of “Robin & Marian” because Sean Connery and Aubrey Hepburn made me care so much about these mythic characters). Real Life rarely makes me cry (I’ve go through most weddings and funerals dry-eyed). But I put my head on my desk at work and sobbed when I got my son’s e-mail that he was being sent to war. Perhaps Patricia is right — it’s the lack of control and not knowing if he will come back.

    Reply
  41. P.S. On a happier note, wanted to tell Susan/Miranda that I saw a portrait of Barbara, Lady Castlemaine, in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington DC last Saturday. They have an exhibit of portraits from the National Portrait Gallery in London. It’s the one with her as the Madonna, and one of her sons by Charles as the infant Jesus. Seen up close rather than as a reproduction, some of her charisma definitely comes through the two dimensional paint and you get a sense of what drew Charles to her.

    Reply
  42. P.S. On a happier note, wanted to tell Susan/Miranda that I saw a portrait of Barbara, Lady Castlemaine, in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington DC last Saturday. They have an exhibit of portraits from the National Portrait Gallery in London. It’s the one with her as the Madonna, and one of her sons by Charles as the infant Jesus. Seen up close rather than as a reproduction, some of her charisma definitely comes through the two dimensional paint and you get a sense of what drew Charles to her.

    Reply
  43. P.S. On a happier note, wanted to tell Susan/Miranda that I saw a portrait of Barbara, Lady Castlemaine, in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington DC last Saturday. They have an exhibit of portraits from the National Portrait Gallery in London. It’s the one with her as the Madonna, and one of her sons by Charles as the infant Jesus. Seen up close rather than as a reproduction, some of her charisma definitely comes through the two dimensional paint and you get a sense of what drew Charles to her.

    Reply
  44. P.S. On a happier note, wanted to tell Susan/Miranda that I saw a portrait of Barbara, Lady Castlemaine, in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington DC last Saturday. They have an exhibit of portraits from the National Portrait Gallery in London. It’s the one with her as the Madonna, and one of her sons by Charles as the infant Jesus. Seen up close rather than as a reproduction, some of her charisma definitely comes through the two dimensional paint and you get a sense of what drew Charles to her.

    Reply
  45. P.S. On a happier note, wanted to tell Susan/Miranda that I saw a portrait of Barbara, Lady Castlemaine, in the National Portrait Gallery in Washington DC last Saturday. They have an exhibit of portraits from the National Portrait Gallery in London. It’s the one with her as the Madonna, and one of her sons by Charles as the infant Jesus. Seen up close rather than as a reproduction, some of her charisma definitely comes through the two dimensional paint and you get a sense of what drew Charles to her.

    Reply
  46. Graduate school. Went to Europe for 2 weeks to visit my best (male) friend (who was in seminary there thinking about becoming a priest). I was secretly in love with him and I hoped maybe he loved me too. Great visit but all very platonic.
    The last night he introduced me to his program advisor who sent my friend out of the room, turned to me, and said, “I know you’re in love with him but his future doesn’t include you and the best thing you can do is leave him alone.”
    (I remember thinking at the time, this is like a scene from a novel, people don’t really have conversations like this, this advisor just met me ten minutes ago, is this really happening?)
    I was younger then and mortified and thrown completely off balance. I did as he asked, and I cried all the way home on the plane. Our lives were moving in two different and opposite directions and it was an enormous loss and a stepping out into an Unknown Future.
    It was the last time I ever saw my friend. Life went on. I met my now-husband about 6 months later and 6 months after that we got married. I called my friend to tell him that I was engaged and he was very nice and cordial, but it was the last time I ever talked to him.
    Years later I learned that my friend never became a priest, got married and has kids, and is very happy, but sometimes I wonder–what would have happened if I had blown off that advisor and had the guts to tell my friend I was in love with him? I wonder what he would have said?
    I don’t know what about your post made me think of that . . .just the weird drama of that whole conversation with the advisor and then the long weeping ride home on the airplane . . .sigh.

    Reply
  47. Graduate school. Went to Europe for 2 weeks to visit my best (male) friend (who was in seminary there thinking about becoming a priest). I was secretly in love with him and I hoped maybe he loved me too. Great visit but all very platonic.
    The last night he introduced me to his program advisor who sent my friend out of the room, turned to me, and said, “I know you’re in love with him but his future doesn’t include you and the best thing you can do is leave him alone.”
    (I remember thinking at the time, this is like a scene from a novel, people don’t really have conversations like this, this advisor just met me ten minutes ago, is this really happening?)
    I was younger then and mortified and thrown completely off balance. I did as he asked, and I cried all the way home on the plane. Our lives were moving in two different and opposite directions and it was an enormous loss and a stepping out into an Unknown Future.
    It was the last time I ever saw my friend. Life went on. I met my now-husband about 6 months later and 6 months after that we got married. I called my friend to tell him that I was engaged and he was very nice and cordial, but it was the last time I ever talked to him.
    Years later I learned that my friend never became a priest, got married and has kids, and is very happy, but sometimes I wonder–what would have happened if I had blown off that advisor and had the guts to tell my friend I was in love with him? I wonder what he would have said?
    I don’t know what about your post made me think of that . . .just the weird drama of that whole conversation with the advisor and then the long weeping ride home on the airplane . . .sigh.

    Reply
  48. Graduate school. Went to Europe for 2 weeks to visit my best (male) friend (who was in seminary there thinking about becoming a priest). I was secretly in love with him and I hoped maybe he loved me too. Great visit but all very platonic.
    The last night he introduced me to his program advisor who sent my friend out of the room, turned to me, and said, “I know you’re in love with him but his future doesn’t include you and the best thing you can do is leave him alone.”
    (I remember thinking at the time, this is like a scene from a novel, people don’t really have conversations like this, this advisor just met me ten minutes ago, is this really happening?)
    I was younger then and mortified and thrown completely off balance. I did as he asked, and I cried all the way home on the plane. Our lives were moving in two different and opposite directions and it was an enormous loss and a stepping out into an Unknown Future.
    It was the last time I ever saw my friend. Life went on. I met my now-husband about 6 months later and 6 months after that we got married. I called my friend to tell him that I was engaged and he was very nice and cordial, but it was the last time I ever talked to him.
    Years later I learned that my friend never became a priest, got married and has kids, and is very happy, but sometimes I wonder–what would have happened if I had blown off that advisor and had the guts to tell my friend I was in love with him? I wonder what he would have said?
    I don’t know what about your post made me think of that . . .just the weird drama of that whole conversation with the advisor and then the long weeping ride home on the airplane . . .sigh.

    Reply
  49. Graduate school. Went to Europe for 2 weeks to visit my best (male) friend (who was in seminary there thinking about becoming a priest). I was secretly in love with him and I hoped maybe he loved me too. Great visit but all very platonic.
    The last night he introduced me to his program advisor who sent my friend out of the room, turned to me, and said, “I know you’re in love with him but his future doesn’t include you and the best thing you can do is leave him alone.”
    (I remember thinking at the time, this is like a scene from a novel, people don’t really have conversations like this, this advisor just met me ten minutes ago, is this really happening?)
    I was younger then and mortified and thrown completely off balance. I did as he asked, and I cried all the way home on the plane. Our lives were moving in two different and opposite directions and it was an enormous loss and a stepping out into an Unknown Future.
    It was the last time I ever saw my friend. Life went on. I met my now-husband about 6 months later and 6 months after that we got married. I called my friend to tell him that I was engaged and he was very nice and cordial, but it was the last time I ever talked to him.
    Years later I learned that my friend never became a priest, got married and has kids, and is very happy, but sometimes I wonder–what would have happened if I had blown off that advisor and had the guts to tell my friend I was in love with him? I wonder what he would have said?
    I don’t know what about your post made me think of that . . .just the weird drama of that whole conversation with the advisor and then the long weeping ride home on the airplane . . .sigh.

    Reply
  50. Graduate school. Went to Europe for 2 weeks to visit my best (male) friend (who was in seminary there thinking about becoming a priest). I was secretly in love with him and I hoped maybe he loved me too. Great visit but all very platonic.
    The last night he introduced me to his program advisor who sent my friend out of the room, turned to me, and said, “I know you’re in love with him but his future doesn’t include you and the best thing you can do is leave him alone.”
    (I remember thinking at the time, this is like a scene from a novel, people don’t really have conversations like this, this advisor just met me ten minutes ago, is this really happening?)
    I was younger then and mortified and thrown completely off balance. I did as he asked, and I cried all the way home on the plane. Our lives were moving in two different and opposite directions and it was an enormous loss and a stepping out into an Unknown Future.
    It was the last time I ever saw my friend. Life went on. I met my now-husband about 6 months later and 6 months after that we got married. I called my friend to tell him that I was engaged and he was very nice and cordial, but it was the last time I ever talked to him.
    Years later I learned that my friend never became a priest, got married and has kids, and is very happy, but sometimes I wonder–what would have happened if I had blown off that advisor and had the guts to tell my friend I was in love with him? I wonder what he would have said?
    I don’t know what about your post made me think of that . . .just the weird drama of that whole conversation with the advisor and then the long weeping ride home on the airplane . . .sigh.

    Reply
  51. Emotional reactions like crying really are so personal — as everyone’s comments here show. I do cry at farewells, plus books, movies, and commercials, but I don’t cry at funerals, or when I’m angry. Weird contradictions. 🙂
    RevMelinda, your story definitely does belong in a book!
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  52. Emotional reactions like crying really are so personal — as everyone’s comments here show. I do cry at farewells, plus books, movies, and commercials, but I don’t cry at funerals, or when I’m angry. Weird contradictions. 🙂
    RevMelinda, your story definitely does belong in a book!
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  53. Emotional reactions like crying really are so personal — as everyone’s comments here show. I do cry at farewells, plus books, movies, and commercials, but I don’t cry at funerals, or when I’m angry. Weird contradictions. 🙂
    RevMelinda, your story definitely does belong in a book!
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  54. Emotional reactions like crying really are so personal — as everyone’s comments here show. I do cry at farewells, plus books, movies, and commercials, but I don’t cry at funerals, or when I’m angry. Weird contradictions. 🙂
    RevMelinda, your story definitely does belong in a book!
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  55. Emotional reactions like crying really are so personal — as everyone’s comments here show. I do cry at farewells, plus books, movies, and commercials, but I don’t cry at funerals, or when I’m angry. Weird contradictions. 🙂
    RevMelinda, your story definitely does belong in a book!
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  56. Susan/DC,
    Thank you so much for your “report” on the portrait of Lady Castlemaine on display in DC! Perhaps having her visiting in this hemisphere over the summer is the explanation for the overwrought weather we’ve had over the summer. *g*
    For anyone who wants to see the picture on the National Portrait Gallery site, here’s the link:
    http://www.npg.org.uk/live/search/portrait.asp?search=ss&sText=barbara+villiers&LinkID=mp00915&rNo=0&role=sit
    This particular painting has a interesting recent history. A few years ago, the private owner of it made it available for sale to the National Portrait Gallery. Because it’s such an “important” picture (in art lingo), the Gallery staged a huge fundraising drive to buy it, including organized fundraising among school children. Personally, I found this hilarious, and fascinating, too — can you imagine what the uproar would be in this country if children were asked to contribute to the purchase of a picture of a woman as notorious as Barbara?
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  57. Susan/DC,
    Thank you so much for your “report” on the portrait of Lady Castlemaine on display in DC! Perhaps having her visiting in this hemisphere over the summer is the explanation for the overwrought weather we’ve had over the summer. *g*
    For anyone who wants to see the picture on the National Portrait Gallery site, here’s the link:
    http://www.npg.org.uk/live/search/portrait.asp?search=ss&sText=barbara+villiers&LinkID=mp00915&rNo=0&role=sit
    This particular painting has a interesting recent history. A few years ago, the private owner of it made it available for sale to the National Portrait Gallery. Because it’s such an “important” picture (in art lingo), the Gallery staged a huge fundraising drive to buy it, including organized fundraising among school children. Personally, I found this hilarious, and fascinating, too — can you imagine what the uproar would be in this country if children were asked to contribute to the purchase of a picture of a woman as notorious as Barbara?
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  58. Susan/DC,
    Thank you so much for your “report” on the portrait of Lady Castlemaine on display in DC! Perhaps having her visiting in this hemisphere over the summer is the explanation for the overwrought weather we’ve had over the summer. *g*
    For anyone who wants to see the picture on the National Portrait Gallery site, here’s the link:
    http://www.npg.org.uk/live/search/portrait.asp?search=ss&sText=barbara+villiers&LinkID=mp00915&rNo=0&role=sit
    This particular painting has a interesting recent history. A few years ago, the private owner of it made it available for sale to the National Portrait Gallery. Because it’s such an “important” picture (in art lingo), the Gallery staged a huge fundraising drive to buy it, including organized fundraising among school children. Personally, I found this hilarious, and fascinating, too — can you imagine what the uproar would be in this country if children were asked to contribute to the purchase of a picture of a woman as notorious as Barbara?
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  59. Susan/DC,
    Thank you so much for your “report” on the portrait of Lady Castlemaine on display in DC! Perhaps having her visiting in this hemisphere over the summer is the explanation for the overwrought weather we’ve had over the summer. *g*
    For anyone who wants to see the picture on the National Portrait Gallery site, here’s the link:
    http://www.npg.org.uk/live/search/portrait.asp?search=ss&sText=barbara+villiers&LinkID=mp00915&rNo=0&role=sit
    This particular painting has a interesting recent history. A few years ago, the private owner of it made it available for sale to the National Portrait Gallery. Because it’s such an “important” picture (in art lingo), the Gallery staged a huge fundraising drive to buy it, including organized fundraising among school children. Personally, I found this hilarious, and fascinating, too — can you imagine what the uproar would be in this country if children were asked to contribute to the purchase of a picture of a woman as notorious as Barbara?
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  60. Susan/DC,
    Thank you so much for your “report” on the portrait of Lady Castlemaine on display in DC! Perhaps having her visiting in this hemisphere over the summer is the explanation for the overwrought weather we’ve had over the summer. *g*
    For anyone who wants to see the picture on the National Portrait Gallery site, here’s the link:
    http://www.npg.org.uk/live/search/portrait.asp?search=ss&sText=barbara+villiers&LinkID=mp00915&rNo=0&role=sit
    This particular painting has a interesting recent history. A few years ago, the private owner of it made it available for sale to the National Portrait Gallery. Because it’s such an “important” picture (in art lingo), the Gallery staged a huge fundraising drive to buy it, including organized fundraising among school children. Personally, I found this hilarious, and fascinating, too — can you imagine what the uproar would be in this country if children were asked to contribute to the purchase of a picture of a woman as notorious as Barbara?
    Susan/Miranda

    Reply
  61. GWTH has plagued me for years. I’ve rewritten the ending numerous times in my head! I read romance for the poetic summing up of relationships the way we’d like them, all symmetrical and mellow, as opposed to the real and very arduous relationships of life. I remain optimistic that, where there is life, there is hope…and sometimes, even beyond the boundaries of life.

    Reply
  62. GWTH has plagued me for years. I’ve rewritten the ending numerous times in my head! I read romance for the poetic summing up of relationships the way we’d like them, all symmetrical and mellow, as opposed to the real and very arduous relationships of life. I remain optimistic that, where there is life, there is hope…and sometimes, even beyond the boundaries of life.

    Reply
  63. GWTH has plagued me for years. I’ve rewritten the ending numerous times in my head! I read romance for the poetic summing up of relationships the way we’d like them, all symmetrical and mellow, as opposed to the real and very arduous relationships of life. I remain optimistic that, where there is life, there is hope…and sometimes, even beyond the boundaries of life.

    Reply
  64. GWTH has plagued me for years. I’ve rewritten the ending numerous times in my head! I read romance for the poetic summing up of relationships the way we’d like them, all symmetrical and mellow, as opposed to the real and very arduous relationships of life. I remain optimistic that, where there is life, there is hope…and sometimes, even beyond the boundaries of life.

    Reply
  65. GWTH has plagued me for years. I’ve rewritten the ending numerous times in my head! I read romance for the poetic summing up of relationships the way we’d like them, all symmetrical and mellow, as opposed to the real and very arduous relationships of life. I remain optimistic that, where there is life, there is hope…and sometimes, even beyond the boundaries of life.

    Reply
  66. Oh, my, you got me with this one, Susan Miranda! I am, in Regency parlance, a water pot, capable of tearing up over almost anything. I never saw the Hallmark commercial Gretchen mentioned, but just readiing about it got me steaming my glasses.
    I realize this is nothing to be proud of, but I’m long since given up being embarrassed. I can carry on a perfectly rational conversation while tears are streaming down my face. I think that tears often connect to some primal wellspring of emotion deep inside, well beyond the range of analysis.
    RevMelinda, that’s a fascinating story. My guess is that even if you had declared your love to your contemplating-priesthood friend. it probably would have been the wrong time to make it work. As long as he was seriously contemplating taking vows, he probably wouldn’t have been available to you for a real relationship. (And if you’d married, he might have resented you later for keeping him from his calling.) He may have needed to process his religious path over a long period of time.
    And of course I could be dead wrong. 🙂
    Mary Jo

    Reply
  67. Oh, my, you got me with this one, Susan Miranda! I am, in Regency parlance, a water pot, capable of tearing up over almost anything. I never saw the Hallmark commercial Gretchen mentioned, but just readiing about it got me steaming my glasses.
    I realize this is nothing to be proud of, but I’m long since given up being embarrassed. I can carry on a perfectly rational conversation while tears are streaming down my face. I think that tears often connect to some primal wellspring of emotion deep inside, well beyond the range of analysis.
    RevMelinda, that’s a fascinating story. My guess is that even if you had declared your love to your contemplating-priesthood friend. it probably would have been the wrong time to make it work. As long as he was seriously contemplating taking vows, he probably wouldn’t have been available to you for a real relationship. (And if you’d married, he might have resented you later for keeping him from his calling.) He may have needed to process his religious path over a long period of time.
    And of course I could be dead wrong. 🙂
    Mary Jo

    Reply
  68. Oh, my, you got me with this one, Susan Miranda! I am, in Regency parlance, a water pot, capable of tearing up over almost anything. I never saw the Hallmark commercial Gretchen mentioned, but just readiing about it got me steaming my glasses.
    I realize this is nothing to be proud of, but I’m long since given up being embarrassed. I can carry on a perfectly rational conversation while tears are streaming down my face. I think that tears often connect to some primal wellspring of emotion deep inside, well beyond the range of analysis.
    RevMelinda, that’s a fascinating story. My guess is that even if you had declared your love to your contemplating-priesthood friend. it probably would have been the wrong time to make it work. As long as he was seriously contemplating taking vows, he probably wouldn’t have been available to you for a real relationship. (And if you’d married, he might have resented you later for keeping him from his calling.) He may have needed to process his religious path over a long period of time.
    And of course I could be dead wrong. 🙂
    Mary Jo

    Reply
  69. Oh, my, you got me with this one, Susan Miranda! I am, in Regency parlance, a water pot, capable of tearing up over almost anything. I never saw the Hallmark commercial Gretchen mentioned, but just readiing about it got me steaming my glasses.
    I realize this is nothing to be proud of, but I’m long since given up being embarrassed. I can carry on a perfectly rational conversation while tears are streaming down my face. I think that tears often connect to some primal wellspring of emotion deep inside, well beyond the range of analysis.
    RevMelinda, that’s a fascinating story. My guess is that even if you had declared your love to your contemplating-priesthood friend. it probably would have been the wrong time to make it work. As long as he was seriously contemplating taking vows, he probably wouldn’t have been available to you for a real relationship. (And if you’d married, he might have resented you later for keeping him from his calling.) He may have needed to process his religious path over a long period of time.
    And of course I could be dead wrong. 🙂
    Mary Jo

    Reply
  70. Oh, my, you got me with this one, Susan Miranda! I am, in Regency parlance, a water pot, capable of tearing up over almost anything. I never saw the Hallmark commercial Gretchen mentioned, but just readiing about it got me steaming my glasses.
    I realize this is nothing to be proud of, but I’m long since given up being embarrassed. I can carry on a perfectly rational conversation while tears are streaming down my face. I think that tears often connect to some primal wellspring of emotion deep inside, well beyond the range of analysis.
    RevMelinda, that’s a fascinating story. My guess is that even if you had declared your love to your contemplating-priesthood friend. it probably would have been the wrong time to make it work. As long as he was seriously contemplating taking vows, he probably wouldn’t have been available to you for a real relationship. (And if you’d married, he might have resented you later for keeping him from his calling.) He may have needed to process his religious path over a long period of time.
    And of course I could be dead wrong. 🙂
    Mary Jo

    Reply
  71. Mary Jo, I think you’re absolutely right in your assessment. It was all completely crazy. His tradition allowed priests to be married if they married before ordination, but even if we had, I could not have continued in my own faith tradition and career–and probably would have resented HIM for keeping ME from my calling, LOL.
    He was a king of mixed messages, always giving me books with sappy inscriptions from 1 John and such (“Beloved, let us love one another. . .”). No wonder I was confused!
    I do still wonder why that program advisor went all “Lady Catherine de Bourgh” (sp?) on me that night and told me to go away? If only I had an ounce of Elizabeth Bennet’s gumption then I might have more clarity now.
    Susan/Miranda, thank you for your original post that made me think about this for the first time in 20 years! You wenches are Better Than Therapy and a lot more fun, too!

    Reply
  72. Mary Jo, I think you’re absolutely right in your assessment. It was all completely crazy. His tradition allowed priests to be married if they married before ordination, but even if we had, I could not have continued in my own faith tradition and career–and probably would have resented HIM for keeping ME from my calling, LOL.
    He was a king of mixed messages, always giving me books with sappy inscriptions from 1 John and such (“Beloved, let us love one another. . .”). No wonder I was confused!
    I do still wonder why that program advisor went all “Lady Catherine de Bourgh” (sp?) on me that night and told me to go away? If only I had an ounce of Elizabeth Bennet’s gumption then I might have more clarity now.
    Susan/Miranda, thank you for your original post that made me think about this for the first time in 20 years! You wenches are Better Than Therapy and a lot more fun, too!

    Reply
  73. Mary Jo, I think you’re absolutely right in your assessment. It was all completely crazy. His tradition allowed priests to be married if they married before ordination, but even if we had, I could not have continued in my own faith tradition and career–and probably would have resented HIM for keeping ME from my calling, LOL.
    He was a king of mixed messages, always giving me books with sappy inscriptions from 1 John and such (“Beloved, let us love one another. . .”). No wonder I was confused!
    I do still wonder why that program advisor went all “Lady Catherine de Bourgh” (sp?) on me that night and told me to go away? If only I had an ounce of Elizabeth Bennet’s gumption then I might have more clarity now.
    Susan/Miranda, thank you for your original post that made me think about this for the first time in 20 years! You wenches are Better Than Therapy and a lot more fun, too!

    Reply
  74. Mary Jo, I think you’re absolutely right in your assessment. It was all completely crazy. His tradition allowed priests to be married if they married before ordination, but even if we had, I could not have continued in my own faith tradition and career–and probably would have resented HIM for keeping ME from my calling, LOL.
    He was a king of mixed messages, always giving me books with sappy inscriptions from 1 John and such (“Beloved, let us love one another. . .”). No wonder I was confused!
    I do still wonder why that program advisor went all “Lady Catherine de Bourgh” (sp?) on me that night and told me to go away? If only I had an ounce of Elizabeth Bennet’s gumption then I might have more clarity now.
    Susan/Miranda, thank you for your original post that made me think about this for the first time in 20 years! You wenches are Better Than Therapy and a lot more fun, too!

    Reply
  75. Mary Jo, I think you’re absolutely right in your assessment. It was all completely crazy. His tradition allowed priests to be married if they married before ordination, but even if we had, I could not have continued in my own faith tradition and career–and probably would have resented HIM for keeping ME from my calling, LOL.
    He was a king of mixed messages, always giving me books with sappy inscriptions from 1 John and such (“Beloved, let us love one another. . .”). No wonder I was confused!
    I do still wonder why that program advisor went all “Lady Catherine de Bourgh” (sp?) on me that night and told me to go away? If only I had an ounce of Elizabeth Bennet’s gumption then I might have more clarity now.
    Susan/Miranda, thank you for your original post that made me think about this for the first time in 20 years! You wenches are Better Than Therapy and a lot more fun, too!

    Reply
  76. Pat, you’ve got my number! LOL! I’m a cryer, and like Mary Jo, I’m not too embarrassed over it anymore. I used to be mortified if I cried in the theater, but now, I just make sure I have plenty of Kleenex and try not to hold my breath, like you do inadvertently when you are trying to cry quietly.
    The last time that happened, I was with my sister and we were watching Black Beauty. We were the only adults in the theater who DIDN’T have kids with us. When BB’s friend Ginger died, I was trying to cry silently, but didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I tried to take a quiet inhalation. Into the dead silence of a touching scene, I let out this honking huge sob as I tried to drag air into my oxygen-starved lungs. It was so loud that everyone turned to look at me. I slunk down in my seat, but then got a horrible case of the giggles.
    I love it when a novel makes me cry–that’s just good writing. (But it makes me look like an alien)

    Reply
  77. Pat, you’ve got my number! LOL! I’m a cryer, and like Mary Jo, I’m not too embarrassed over it anymore. I used to be mortified if I cried in the theater, but now, I just make sure I have plenty of Kleenex and try not to hold my breath, like you do inadvertently when you are trying to cry quietly.
    The last time that happened, I was with my sister and we were watching Black Beauty. We were the only adults in the theater who DIDN’T have kids with us. When BB’s friend Ginger died, I was trying to cry silently, but didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I tried to take a quiet inhalation. Into the dead silence of a touching scene, I let out this honking huge sob as I tried to drag air into my oxygen-starved lungs. It was so loud that everyone turned to look at me. I slunk down in my seat, but then got a horrible case of the giggles.
    I love it when a novel makes me cry–that’s just good writing. (But it makes me look like an alien)

    Reply
  78. Pat, you’ve got my number! LOL! I’m a cryer, and like Mary Jo, I’m not too embarrassed over it anymore. I used to be mortified if I cried in the theater, but now, I just make sure I have plenty of Kleenex and try not to hold my breath, like you do inadvertently when you are trying to cry quietly.
    The last time that happened, I was with my sister and we were watching Black Beauty. We were the only adults in the theater who DIDN’T have kids with us. When BB’s friend Ginger died, I was trying to cry silently, but didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I tried to take a quiet inhalation. Into the dead silence of a touching scene, I let out this honking huge sob as I tried to drag air into my oxygen-starved lungs. It was so loud that everyone turned to look at me. I slunk down in my seat, but then got a horrible case of the giggles.
    I love it when a novel makes me cry–that’s just good writing. (But it makes me look like an alien)

    Reply
  79. Pat, you’ve got my number! LOL! I’m a cryer, and like Mary Jo, I’m not too embarrassed over it anymore. I used to be mortified if I cried in the theater, but now, I just make sure I have plenty of Kleenex and try not to hold my breath, like you do inadvertently when you are trying to cry quietly.
    The last time that happened, I was with my sister and we were watching Black Beauty. We were the only adults in the theater who DIDN’T have kids with us. When BB’s friend Ginger died, I was trying to cry silently, but didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I tried to take a quiet inhalation. Into the dead silence of a touching scene, I let out this honking huge sob as I tried to drag air into my oxygen-starved lungs. It was so loud that everyone turned to look at me. I slunk down in my seat, but then got a horrible case of the giggles.
    I love it when a novel makes me cry–that’s just good writing. (But it makes me look like an alien)

    Reply
  80. Pat, you’ve got my number! LOL! I’m a cryer, and like Mary Jo, I’m not too embarrassed over it anymore. I used to be mortified if I cried in the theater, but now, I just make sure I have plenty of Kleenex and try not to hold my breath, like you do inadvertently when you are trying to cry quietly.
    The last time that happened, I was with my sister and we were watching Black Beauty. We were the only adults in the theater who DIDN’T have kids with us. When BB’s friend Ginger died, I was trying to cry silently, but didn’t realize I was holding my breath until I tried to take a quiet inhalation. Into the dead silence of a touching scene, I let out this honking huge sob as I tried to drag air into my oxygen-starved lungs. It was so loud that everyone turned to look at me. I slunk down in my seat, but then got a horrible case of the giggles.
    I love it when a novel makes me cry–that’s just good writing. (But it makes me look like an alien)

    Reply

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