Maybe you think I'm exaggerating when I talk about how I'm a sympathetic crier. How when I see someone crying I almost always start crying along with them.
I am not.
We have a Spanish branch in our stake and they were fresh out of pianists so I was asked to help out for the primary sacrament meeting program, which was today. With the exception of a few phrases and things I've pick up spending a lifetime in a southern border state (plus my love for Latin root words), I neither speak nor understand Spanish. Like a genius, I took German in high school and the only good it has done me was that one time in Tunisia when I was mistaken for a German tourist by a local shrimper. Anyway, after the program was completed the branch president got up to say a few words, very little of which I understood. A few minutes into it he got a little weepy - over what I can only guess. But those types of details do not matter to a sympathetic crier. Oh no, because there I was getting weepy right along with him. He could have been talking about that one time he lost his lucky socks. It matters not. When you are with me you do not cry alone.