Bruce, Bono and Bawling Your Eyes Out
Fathers in film, and the emotional inheritance we’re refusing to pass on
Since my son was born, I can’t help but cry at a movie.
I don’t know if there was a tipping point. Maybe it came fast, a rock launched through my glass case of emotion. Perhaps it was that gradual opening of a valve that marked empathy. It’s not like I didn’t cry before. The Gr…



