Michael Carley looks at one famous man’s tears in a business where men are not supposed to cry.
House Speaker Boehner, I would like to offer congratulations on your retirement from congress. I have often disagreed with you, but I wanted to thank you for one way in which you have provided an example to leaders around the country.
You weren’t ashamed to cry.
In our culture, we often shame men for their tears. We’re told it is a sign of weakness to display emotion. And while I suppose we can’t have the person two steps away from the presidency sobbing and cowering in the corner at every crisis or major event, that wasn’t the case. What you have shown has been a simple display of emotion that humanizes you and your position in a way that is truly admirable.
When you cried in January 2011, as Speaker Pelosi handed over the gavel to you for the first time, I sensed–or hoped at least–that perhaps it meant you had some idea of the enormity of the responsibility you had just been given, that you understood its meaning and would take it seriously. As the fringes of your own party increased in power and threatened repeatedly to shut down the government if they didn’t get their way, perhaps you did. At times, it seemed you were the only thing standing between them and our nation being sent into another great depression and losing its preeminence as a world monetary power.
When your tears flowed at the singing of America the Beautiful, again I take it as a measure of how seriously you take our country and it provides me some hope that you’ll do what you think is best.
When, in September 2008, you cried on the floor of the House, talking about the economic difficulties of everyday Americans, I hope it means you can empathize with those difficulties and enact policies that will assuage them. That hope fades only as I see your party do the opposite so often on your watch.
When your tears fell as Gabrielle Giffords announced her resignation from congress, it provides some hope that there is still the possibility of reaching across partisan lines. After Giffords was shot, it was under your leadership that some members of the House walked into the State of the Union and sat in mixed party groups, Republicans and Democrats in unison, breaking with tradition even as overall trends were in the opposite direction.
You teared up a couple of years ago on 60 Minutes talking about your path to Washington, but I was more impressed by another 60 Minutes interview in 2010 when the tears fell as you talked about your wife and another interview the same year in which you talked about your many siblings. Family is something we can all relate to and showing us your love for yours makes you more familiar to us.
Your sense of history has shown with your tears more times than can be recounted. At an event honoring the memory of Winston Churchill and the unveiling of a statue of Rosa Parks, you have shown that you understand the importance of those who came before you. And it wasn’t just political and movement leaders, but your tears flew when Arnold Palmer was honored and at a ceremony for painter Constantino Brumidi. Perhaps closest to my heart was when you were photographed wiping away the tears while listening to Irish music at a St. Patrick’s Day luncheon in 2012.
I have often disagreed with you on policy, but time and again, you have shown you understand the role of history and the moment, including your place in it. Even now, as your party has grown ungovernable, you chose to step aside and give someone else a chance rather than clinging to a grip on tenuous power.
Speaker Boehner, I don’t know what’s next for you. I truly wish you the best. As you hand over the gavel to incoming Speaker Paul Ryan, you have shown us by example that you understand the enormity of what confronts him. As that event happens, I’m sure you’ll be as we have so often seen you, in tears. In case you were worried that we’d judge for that, quite the opposite.
For this one thing at least, we admire you. Let the tears flow.
—Another version of this piece appears in the Porterville Recorder on October 28th, 2015.
Photo: Gage Skidmore/Flickr
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