Steven Spielberg Made Me Cry
By Collin Hockenbury
“Tell me I’ve led a good life,” the now-elderly James Ryan said to his wife. “Tell me I’m a good man.”
Oh God. My eyes were welling up. My lips were trembling. Tears splashed onto the placemat on the kitchen table. There was a picture of a rabbit on it and I was getting him all wet.
I was holed up at my parents’ yesterday. If I have to work from home, I like doing it at theirs when I can. It’s quiet, the kitchen table is spacious and they always keep Cadbury chocolate eggs on deck around Easter.
I digress. I was taking a much-needed lunch break and knocking down YouTube videos one by one. A single clip from Saving Private Ryan turned into eight, and suddenly I was watching the ending scene where the older version of Private Ryan salutes Captain Miller’s cross. I guess I wasn’t ready, because I just lost it. Sat there alone and blubbered like I was insane or drunk or a small boy again. After about 17 seconds of this, I got up from my chair and shook all the feels out of my system. Then I got some chocolate eggs out of the cabinet by the stove and resumed my work as best I could.
I think there was a lot going on subconsciously that led to this moment. For one thing, WWII reminds me of my Papa, who served in the Navy. He passed away and I try to make him proud the same way Private Ryan tried to make Captain Miller proud—just by living a good, honest life. But that really has nothing to do with the present climate, and I don’t think that feeling alone would’ve made me lose it to quite that extent.
I’ve heard a lot of people say this pandemic is kind of like “our war.” Us and our parents, I mean. Granted, we’re still fighting a war in the Middle East, but you take their point. For most of us, staying home and practicing social distancing to protect others from this virus is as close as we’ve ever come to making a patriotic sacrifice. It’s the most we’ve ever given up for the benefit of our neighbors, our state and ultimately our countrymen. And when it comes down to it, staying inside and missing a haircut appointment just isn’t that bad. I miss my friends and touching things and by God I miss sports, but this isn’t like taking gunfire. Point is, I guess I was just feeling guilty.
What’s ironic is that our own self-image as Americans shapes the way many of us look at this virus and the threat is poses. We’re America. In DJ Khaled terms, we the best. Surely our healthcare system and resources will see us through this, healthy and happy, no matter what. Getting sick is for the other guys. I’m probably guilty of this outlook more than I’d ever admit.
Fittingly enough, one of my friends, who’s a doctor now, wrote a Facebook post today explaining how we’re all mistaken in the U.S. if we think we’re somehow exempt from the fates of Italy and Spain, regardless of how we approach the coronavirus in our society. “Take this seriously, take off your ‘Back to Back World War Champs’ tank top, and practice social distancing,” he wrote. He’s got a point.
Anyway, if you’re ever overdue for a good cry, start with something by Spielberg.
