Because of Winn-Dixie

I’ll admit it: I’m a big softie. I have a long and storied history of crying at movies, dating back to my childhood when Snoopy, Come Home always choked me up.

This afternoon, the movie of choice was Because of Winn-Dixie. It was a good movie, very cute and family friendly. And yes, it made me cry.

Becuase of Winn-DixieNow, before you go hurling epithets at me, let me explain. There were several themes at work in this film. First, there was the (very obvious) dog theme. I’m a dog-lover, through and through (note my Snoopy reference above), so dog movies get me every single time. Second, there was the father/daughter theme. Being the father of a young girl myself, I have an automatic affinity for such stories. Then throw in the redemption theme and toss in a world-weary guitarist who just wants to play music for animals, and you’ve got yourself a surefire tearjerker as far as I’m concerned. I didn’t stand a chance.

All kidding aside, I was very interested to see how Dave Matthews did in this film, as I’ve never seen him act before. I thought he did a good job, although it would have been tough for him to mess up the whole freaky musician thing. His guitar playing, which I nearly always enjoy, was a really nice touch in several parts of the film.

Anyway, Grace had invited a friend over to watch the movie, and the two of them were lying on the floor in front of the couch, so I don’t think they saw me wiping my eyes. I’m not sure if Jen did or not, but I was slightly more confident that she wouldn’t tease me as much as the girls would have. In the end, nobody said anything, so either Jen didn’t see, or she was being kind. I could go either way.

Let me conclude by saying that this curse is genetic. My mother cries at coffee commercials, so at least I’m a step up from that. By the way, Mom, feel free to leave a comment some time. I know you read this.

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