Moved to Tears

This is a great post about the fact that real men do cry. I am married to one. The last time I cried over something that really moved me was in church this last Sunday when someone sang “His Hand Reached Farther Down Than I Could Reach Up.” Of course it was about how Jesus (the Divine) chose to take my punishment for sin so I could go free. He didn’t have to. Scripture says He could have called legions of angels to deliver Him from that awful torture and punishment. But He didn’t. He took my place on the cross. He paid a debt He didn’t owe for a wretch like me. He reached down into the pit of my selfish, self-centered, self-loathing soul, and changed my life completely. I’ve never been sorry. But there are some songs I can’t hear or sing without weeping because I know what it cost my dear Savior, and I know I could never deserve His sacrifice. I gratefully and humbly accept His free gift of salvation. Reblogged from


I don’t know about you, but after the last few months, exploring the business end of fiction, I’m about ready for a break. For the next few weeks, I’m going to write about anything but business…

Real Men Don’t Cry…

I was raised in a Catholic Irish-Italian-German household. Men watched football on Sunday, drank beer, sometimes smoked, and never ever ever cried. To this day, nearly 50 years on, I’ve never seen my father shed a tear.

I consider myself as “real” a man as any (given that gender roles are learned and entirely arbitrary).

  • I enjoy the occasional game of football when I don’t have anything better to do, and even broke my arm playing a pick-up game in the neighborhood when I was a kid. I’m looking forward to the upcoming NFL season. (Go Giants!)
  • I was a smoker for many years.
  • I’ve been known to enjoy a…

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