Hanks: Big boys don’t cry | TheFencePost.com

Hanks: Big boys don’t cry

Big boys may not cry, gentle readers, but real men do. I came across that little ditty some time back and filed it away for future use.

Well, here we are in my future and I decided to use it for this column. I really don't know how far I will get with it, but here goes.

There is no doubt my daddy was a real man, no doubt at all. As a young man, as a little boy and even later in my life did I ever see or hear of my daddy crying.

There must have been something at some time that brought him to tears. Maybe, maybe not. I reckon I'll never know.

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I can only remember one time when my daddy saw me cry. That was when my dog and best friend, Duffy, got run over right in front of my daddy and me.

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I cried then and have cried many times since. In the 40s and 50s it was a sign of weakness for a man to shed tears.

Now that was just down right silly but that was how men presented themselves if they wanted to be looked up to as a "real man".

I know my football coaches in junior high and especially in high school would shame you if he thought crying might cross your mind.

As the years passed, men began to soften up some as women began to toughen up a little. We sort of met in the middle and discovered it was okay to have a different perspective than what we had been draggin' around behind us for so long.

At present, I do have some concerns for some of the young folks I see today and their outlook on life in general.

The really soft kids that seem to want to whine about every little aspect of their life that gets in their way are justifiably called "snow flakes."

That term has nothing to do with their skin color. It represents someone who just seems to fall apart if they believe they are unable to cope with life in general.

Much of that, in my humble opinion, has to do with mommy and daddy (if there was a daddy) and their education of higher learning.

Those kids need about three months up at a cow camp isolated from any outside obstacles such as cell phones, television and the likes. Just some good old cowboy books to read and a few mice to comfort them during the night time hours. Doing their own cooking, cleaning, riding and checking on cattle each and every day. Packing salt blocks, fixing downed fence surely would bring them into reality or drive them to running off into the woods screaming, clutching their chest and yes, crying and begging someone please come and rescue me from this hell I'm in.

Now wouldn't that be "fun watchin," as the cowboy says?

My kids have seen me cry and cry a lot when we realized all was lost in "Little Miss Martha's" battle with cancer.

There were those times that I was so worn out, a lot of it from radiation fighting my own cancer and having to face all of the battles that lay ahead. I didn't want to lose her. l didn't want to plan a funeral. I didn't want to have to deal with all of the bills that were stacking up.

Those were tough times and you just have to "cowboy up" as they say and git'er done. Yep, there was some hand wringing and tears shed and a lot of lost sleep but I discovered something about myself.

I could survive. I did survive and life is good. I am happy, healthy and always looking forward to what tomorrow might bring. Whatever it is, I know that I can handle it. I might not want to, but I know I can.

Remember children, crying is a healthy, necessary thing at times. I haven't cried in years. I haven't needed to unless I saw something on the "telly" or the internet that touched me deeply.

Usually, that would involve small children. God bless the little kids and help them get through this whirlwind of a world they are entering in.

Stay tuned, check yer cinch on occasion, count yer blessings on occasion and cry if you feel the need and I'll c. y'all, all y'all.❖

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