I told a friend recently that I wanted to be the character played by Sun Foy in Broken Trail. I’ve watched four westerns in a week and this is what I’ve decided: I like westerns and I want to be Sun Foy. I love the last scene that she is in when the carriage drives away and she is standing there, much to Thomas Haden Church’s surprise. She sort of sniffles a bit, holding her little suitcase and hoping he doesn’t flag the carriage down to say they’ve made a mistake. She has one small sob and then she pulls herself together and smiles at him.
I want to be Sun Foy. I cry a lot. While discussing my spiritual gift with a friend I was told that my tears are “touching.” I suppose that’s true in some sense. But I don’t like that I cried on Sunday for reasons as simple as the sight of seeing other people’s tears. I almost cried last night again, when a friend was telling me about her past. And I almost cried Sunday night when I drove home from a superbowl party hosted and attended by people who are seriously hurting and lost. I have had a headache now, because I haven’t cried. I feel bad for any man who consents to being my husband. He’ll put up with tears that he hasn’t caused and will never understand. I feel bad for any future children, when they describe their childhood I’m sure they’ll look back and say that momma was always crying for the world.
I told Grahm I wanted to be Sun Foy because she holds it together. Like the great western woman of past centuries, she has her little sob, and then she straightens her shoulders and pulls herself together. After all, ranching in Wyoming is no life for sissies and weeping women.
But shoot! I also told Grahm I thought he was more Thomas Haden Church than Robert Duvall who is a B A cowboy and whom Grahm* admires. Shoot! Church and Foy end up together in the end. Well. I hope he doesn’t misinterpret that.
*and instead of Grahm, we should read this sentence as “…B. A. cowboy every boy admires..”