Have you ever dreaded something and been super excited about it at the same time? That’s how I feel about this week’s upcoming episode of Saturday Night Live. I know they’re going to do something about the John Boehner 60 Minutes interview and I’ll watch it between my fingers.
I don’t particularly like John Boehner, but I do like sensitive men and I think anyone who bursts into tears seven times during an on-camera interview with Lesley Stahl deserves a big hug from the entire American people.
“Oh my god, he’s going to do it again,” I said to my son, who was watching with me. Boehner was trying to explain why he cried one day last month and in recalling the reason, started up again. I covered my head with my forearm, in the hopes that if enough viewers turned away, the actual event would not really happen. Kind of like a tree-falling-in-the-forest kind of thing.
Leslie Stahl, on the other hand was not as kind. “Does he cry all the time?” she asked Mrs. Boehner, who incidentally, looked like she had had just about enough of the tears, after 37 years of marriage. She came across as a no-nonsense type that if you fell off of your bike and came in the house with a wrist that looked like a small ham, might say, “Oh, you’ll be fine. Don’t be a baby.” Or a favorite of the parents of my 1960s childhood, “I’ll give you something to cry about.”
(I, myself, while a caring, nurturing parent who kissed boo-boos in the six figures, have been known to have that same attitude, especially if I’m really busy and a trip to the ER is not going to work for me. My daughter walked around with a broken wrist for 11 days before I finally agreed to have it X-rayed. What? It’s broken? Hunh! ‘Cause I was thinking not. To my defense, when my kids were really sick - and I mean really sick with throwing up and other emissions - I slept on the floor next to their beds all night, with the barf bag right next to my head. Why did I do that? Because of the love.)
But here’s the thing about crying. If you’re going to cry, you’re going to cry. There’s not a whole lot you can do about it. All you can do is resign your Speaker of the House spot before The View girls call you a girl on national TV.
And at least he didn’t try to hold it in and get that jerky breathing thing going. I’m sure over the years he’s learned to control that.
So, SNL writers, as you do your work this week, please be kind. Not so kind that you don’t have me on the floor laughing, but - you know - just . . . oh forget it. Go for it. I’ll watch from behind my hands.
Labels: 60 Minutes, crying, John Boehner, men who cry, Saturday Night Live