Of course the exception to this "no cry" rule was any animal trauma and of course the Matthew Cuthbert death scene in "Anne of Green Gables".
Picture it- Christmas time, many, many moons ago. I had received an Anne of Green Gables book as a Christmas present. I loved the story to pieces and could not put it down. I read it out loud to my sister at night, both of us huddled under quilts to ward off the chilly basement air, the glow of the flashlight casting tantalizing shadows over our poster-covered walls.
It was in the wee hours of the morning when I got to the chapter of Matthew's death. I maybe got out two words before I was overcome by a surge of bawling. My throat started constricting and I could no longer talk. Breathing did not come naturally and I would intermittently gasp for air. It was awful. My sister kept saying- "What? What? WHAT? Hand me the book.....". I don't recall her being as affected by Matthew's death, I might even recall her laughing at my reaction (but I could be totally wrong about that... I was a little consumed trying to breath and contain the snot river running down my face).
I mentioned animal trauma is also a cryfest trigger. In my life there have been two movies that triggered a tsunami of tears that I was helpless to overcome. Both required the movie to be paused for a lengthy period of time. I would press play only to have to pause it again as I could not see through the tears, let alone hear the dialogue.
Old Yeller? Nope... although that movie is good for at least 10 kleenex.
One is a Canadian made movie called "Heaven on Earth". It was about immigrant orphan children who were placed with families. One child was placed in a bad home situation where he was little more than a tool for the family. The only thing that helped him endure was the loving relationship that he formed with a calf. Long story short, the calf dies and he hangs himself because he can't go on without having some form of love in his life. I watched this movie while babysitting. I wanted to finish watching it but was fearful that I would not be able to quit crying. Added to the angst factor was it was late and the parents may come home at any time to find my dry heaving, snotty-faced inconsolable self wandering the hallways of their house. Luckily the parents did not get home until the wee hours of the morning and I was able to pull myself together before their return.
The second movie was "The Power of One". In it a young boy has a pet chicken and has to watch as the chicken is killed in front of him by.... god I can't remember who. All I know is the chicken is dead and a part of me died with it. That was a full box of kleenex movie. I had to pause it for over 30 minutes as I could not pull it together once the bloody chicken died.
Yes I bawled uncontrollably over a chicken. If you would have told my younger self that- I would have laughed..... dog trauma sure, but a chicken.... REALLY!
As time has past I find it hard to lock down my inner wailer. All it takes is a well timed song or sentimental phrase and the floodgates open and my free range tears are spattered all over my face and the ground.
How does this all relate to missed careers opportunities? While attempting to accomplish a word challenge, I came across the word "weeper". Now I thought a weeper was a person who weeped... a kindred spirit. But that was not the original meaning of the word. Apparently people used to hire people to cry at funerals and these employee's were called weepers.
I kid you not..... people were paid to weep like babies!!!!! When did this stop being a career choice????? I think this would be the type of job that I could excel at. Seriously, you could drop me into any funeral home in the world and I could go into full on banshee crying within minutes. I don't even need to know the person well. This is the reason why I avoid all wakes and visitations. I feel awkward having the deceased's loved ones comfort me vs the other way around. But if I was paid... and that was my job.... I could be in the running for Weeper of the Year.
This simple word and new found definition sparked my imagination. Such thoughts as "Did they have weeper union? How much did it pay? Did they get paid by the hour? By hankie? By the grandiosity of performance? Was it BYOH (bring your own hanky) or was there a weeper rider that required "the Weeper" to be supplied with good quality nose blowing material?
Can you imagine parental conversations in the 1800's-
"So how are the children? What have they been up to?"
"Well Tom is a chimney sweep and Rob got a job down at the docks. Martha..... well she is still a spinster, but she's recently been hired as a weeper and it making a pretty good living. She is booked right through until the New Year with weeping gigs. I am pretty proud of our little weeper."
What if weeping was still a career option???????
Just imagine.
- The sponsorship opportunities- "9 out of 10 Weepers prefer the soft pillowy texture of Puffs as compared to generic kleenex.
- Getting paid time and a half for all weeping done on statutory holidays and after hours.
- There would probably be a special category in WSIB for nose burn brought on by excessive wiping and blowing.
- Annual Weeper conventions where weepers from around the world could come and learn how to perfect their craft and learn more about how to market their services to the general public-
"Now days we all led such busy lives it is almost impossible to schedule weeping in. No time to weep..... No problem!!!! Hire a weeper, to take care of all your weeping needs no matter how big or small."
Weepers- We are not just for funerals anymore!
Ohhhh the possibilities are endless. Who wants to "weep" with me! We can be the driving force behind the resurgence of the Weeper career. It would be weeptastic!
Off I go armed with my Puffs, my Anne of Green Gables VHS tape cued to the Matthew death scene and my Power of One commemorative chicken.
My goal- to bring purposeful weeping back to the world.....
Vive La Weeper!!!!!
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