When Men Cry

Men are understood to be built and wired in a certain way. As the hunter of humanity's prehistoric salad days, he is a strong, toughened creature who stands by his decisions and can be happy or angry, but never sad. That last area- the emotional makeup- is what moves me to write today. Over time, however, this sketch of the man's mental state and the safety of emoting in any way has been come less certain and more complicated.

I think that perhaps the first chinks in the armor might have come gradually on the valorous field of battle. Shakespeare wrote of men who suffered such wrenching turmoil in arms that they formed among themselves bonds more intimate than they shared with their closest and most loved blood relatives. I'm as sure as can be that no man in that number who shed tears was thought any less of by his comrades for his display of emotion.

More recently, this loophole, along with that of grit in one's eye, has been joined by a number of areas wherein a man need not pretend he feels nothing or is totally composed inside. It seems that many of them actually strike at and rob him of his vitality and identity as provider. To have watched one of a few masculine tear-jerking films or to be ill-treated by a woman are a couple. Another is to be stricken by that most insidious and cowardly of ailments, cancer. I feel as if getting word of one's fellow being so diagnosed tends to affect a man in a particular way. The man whispers "Cancer". He says this in the way that characters populating the world of Harry Potter say the name of feared nemesis Voldemort. He then emotionally concludes, "Poor bastard."

This all leads to the recent prominence in the news of Merlin Olsen. He was well before my time, and yet to have read about him is to rapidly develop high regard. He is most well known for being a Pro Football Hall of Famer on the strength of his long and productive career as a member of the Los Angeles Rams. He comprised one fourth of the 'Fearsome Foursome': the most unstoppable and devastating defensive line of the day and still one of the greatest in the history of the game. Each member of that quartet, therefore, was one of the toughest and most quintessentially masculine human beings of all time.

Merlin Olsen died of cancer a few days ago, and what followed what most revealing about the inscrutable creature man. Rosey Grier, whose name belied his reputation as an physically unparalleled player and feared opponent, was informed of his former teammate and lifelong friend's demise by a print journalist, and did not react in the stoic, fatalistic way that one might expect of a man's man athlete from the old school. He wept. He apologised to a man he didn't know, and he then managed after a fashion to regain his composure.

Women, don't be fooled by the pose we hold most of the time. We're not robots or cavemen. We often conceal or express in a muted fashion our pain and our love for you because it's layered upon fear and insecurity. On the other hand, men that are free with their feelings with you are just doing it to snag you. Jerks.