It was a Sunday in late February 1960. I was 12 years old and we were visiting my paternal grandparents. After Sunday dinner, my father and grandfather were visiting across the room from where I was quietly reading.

It was a strange week for my family. Dad was fired from his job on Friday and two days later we’re at my grandparents’ home.

I heard Dad tell my grandfather about his job situation. And then I witnessed my grandfather do something that shocked me. My grandfather began crying as he consoled his 33-year-old son.

This was uncomfortable to see. From an early age I had been taught that boys (and men) don’t cry. My family spoke Low German when I was a small boy and I remembered the admonishments: brüült neit, jung. Don’t cry, boy.

I tried not to cry and I hated myself when I did. I was learning to toughen up. I was becoming the tough guy society expected.

There are adults who don’t or can’t cry, but for most of us sooner or later life hands us a situation that results in tears.

The day I got fired from a job I loved, I cried when I told my wife.

The night we had to leave our five-year-old son overnight at the hospital, I secretly wept in the darkness of the parking lot as we left the hospital.

When my mother called to tell me that my paternal grandmother had passed away I cried. Losing my last grandparent hit me especially hard and I secreted myself in our bedroom and wept.

Two decades ago I found myself in an awful employment mess and I remember shedding tears as I prayed, asking God for a way out.

I wept when my parents passed away.

Nearly 12 years ago my wife died unexpectedly and I cried again. I cried a lot and for days.

Years ago a funeral director friend told me, “Grief expressed is grief relieved.” It’s true.

Despite childhood admonishments to not cry, here I am in my seventies and I have inherited my grandfather’s propensity for weeping. When my heartstrings are plucked, I bawl. And I remain uncomfortable when I do.

I thought of this recently when I saw Minnesota Governor Tim Walz’ 17-year-old son on TV openly weeping with pride and happiness for his father, newly nominated Kamala Harris’ vice-presidential candidate.

I understood Gus Walz’ overwhelming pride and joy and related to it. When I began seeing criticism of the boy for his tears, however, I was incensed. Some people have become so calloused, so partisan, so nasty they feel led to disparage a teenage boy for his tears of pride for his father.

If you were around back in 1968 you may remember Marvin Gaye’s hit recording, “I Heard It Through the Grapevine.” The lyrics includes the line, “I know a man ain’t supposed to cry, but these tears I can’t hold inside.”

A Harvard University publication on the psychology of crying says these lyrics “summarize many a man’s dilemma about emotional expression. From early on, boys are told that real men do not cry.” The publication points out, “When these boys grow up, they may stuff their feelings deep inside and withdraw emotionally from their loved ones, or self-medicate with alcohol or drugs, or even become suicidal.”

In a Washington Post article psychotherapist Lena Aburdene Derbally also discussed the effects on men when they are unable to understand their emotions. “These include rage, anxiety, depression, relationship troubles, and unhealthy coping mechanisms,” she wrote. “When boys are told not to cry and to repress their emotions, it can have lasting effects on their mental health and relationships.”

Many women and children (even other men) have suffered at the hands of men who were ordered as boys not to cry and who acted out their pent-up rage as adults. Imagine the pain that could be spared if boys were taught that it’s okay to cry and learned how to handle their innate emotions.

I admired and loved my grandfather and I’m proud of him. Though I’m still uncomfortable when I get emotional, I realize tears are a gift from my Creator to help me deal with grief, pain, major disappointments and even joy.

Arvid Huisman can be contacted at huismaniowa@gmail.com. ©2024 by Huisman Communications.