{"id":21858,"date":"2025-01-08T00:23:02","date_gmt":"2025-01-08T07:23:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/?p=21858"},"modified":"2025-01-06T14:24:27","modified_gmt":"2025-01-06T21:24:27","slug":"cry-me-a-river","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/2025\/01\/08\/cry-me-a-river\/","title":{"rendered":"CRY ME A RIVER"},"content":{"rendered":"

BY JOELLEN COLLINS<\/em><\/p>\n

\"\"
JoEllen Collins\u2014a longtime resident of the Wood River Valley, now residing in San Francisco\u2014 is an Idaho Press Club award-winning columnist, a teacher, novelist, fabric artist, choir member and proud grandma.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

On New Year\u2019s Day my residence enjoyed a musical event, a celebration of this passage of time and what life has given us. One of my favorite guest singers mesmerized an audience packed with people smiling, nodding their heads, singing along, and some with tears in their eyes. It was a perfect conclusion to what might have been a very lonely time for many of us who once lived more dramatic lives.
\nAfterwards, some friends and I discussed why that kind of music is so meaningful, even though at times it makes us want to cry (not necessarily a river) but at least a few nostalgic tears, and we wondered why. I often cried when I was scolded by a teacher in grammar school, or experienced frustrated anger, but also wept often at inappropriate times like when others witnessed my hurt feelings, or even in church when we sang a hymn my father had loved. Occasionally, I found myself giggling at tears in my eyes because I was being sentimental over a sad TV bit featuring a dog, or a commercial with a family celebrating a graduation. Perhaps that was unnecessary, and I\u2019m happy I don\u2019t do that anymore, but I am surprised that I don\u2019t cry the way I used to.
\nMaybe it\u2019s because we elders are seasoned enough that we know that things will get better, and that we don\u2019t always have to cry a river, profoundly weeping today over the kind of situations where we felt so strongly and often happily about a relationship or an event and then had to accept the fact that it was over. Now it is OK to be sentimental, it is OK to shed tears, and it is OK to sing along when the musician invites us to.\u00a0We can allow ourselves to just take a minute to think \u201cI wish I still was with that person I loved when I heard that song\u201d or \u201cI miss those feelings of love and connection.\u201d
\nWhen I was younger, I imagined sitting in my rocking chair with some good memories of great adventures. That turns out to be true. I did dance by the Aegean Sea, grieved at \u201cSomewhere\u201d during the early performance of Broadway\u2019s \u201cWest Side Story\u2019 while waiting to embark to India with other students, and recalling how \u201cSome Enchanted Evening\u201d summed up my first encounter with a great love of my life, and \u201cIt Had To Be You\u201d our sad breakup. \u201cSweet Caroline\u201d reminds me of the name my birth mother chose before she gave me up. \u201cMoon River\u201d echoes the time my man and I spent exploring the romantic California coast singing along with the car radio. Listening to those songs now, ones like \u201cI\u2019ll Never Walk Alone\u201d or \u201cIf I Loved You\u201d stir up emotions of some sadness that at the time we were involved in some very emotional relationship that we might miss. However, my soul is packed with beautiful and exciting memories. I have a few tears but no regrets.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

BY JOELLEN COLLINS On New Year\u2019s Day my residence enjoyed a musical event, a celebration of this passage of time and what life has given us. One of my favorite guest singers mesmerized an audience packed with people smiling, nodding their heads, singing along, and some with tears in their eyes. It was a perfect […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":16827,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"tdm_status":"","tdm_grid_status":"","_pvb_checkbox_block_on_post":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,22],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-21858","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","category-commentary","category-on-lifes-terms"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21858","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21858"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21858\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21859,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21858\/revisions\/21859"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16827"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21858"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21858"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/woodriverweekly.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21858"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}