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I had an experience a few years ago that moved me more than anything had in months or years. And to this day, I’m still not sure why, and/or why it moved me on that particular day.
It was a Sunday afternoon. The house was quiet and I was alone. I lay down on the bed and started watching a rerun of “Mr. Holland’s Opus.” I’d seen the movie several years earlier, and for whatever reason, decided to watch it again.
I had already gotten pretty weepy at a couple of places in the movie. But at the climax of the film, when Mr. Holland sees the lives he has impacted, and hears the governor, once his student, say, “Mr. Holland, we are your opus,” my guts turned inside out. It hit a nerve – a deep, raw nerve – like nothing had in years – perhaps ever.
By this time I was sitting in the den, alone in the house, sobbing. [click to continue…]
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