True Confessions Friday: I cry watching Hallmark commercials and I’m proud of it.

Does anyone actually watch those Hallmark Hall of Fame movies for the movies themselves?  I mean, they’re worse than Lifetime movies, which is saying something if you’ve seen the Lifetime’s latest offering—the Nora Roberts collection (lame movie after lame movie).  Although I can get a giddy laugh out of the utter cheesiness and predictability of a Hallmark flick, I really watch for the commercials.

And I cry my way through most of those Hallmark commercials, and if I don’t cry, I find myself deeply touched.  Do you know why we (yes, me and you) cry at Hallmark commercials?  It’s not because we think we’re actually watching a family reunion or a young man with Down’s Syndrome getting his first apartment—we know it’s a fictional tale.  We know Hallmark wants to market their cards as appropriate for all kinds of occasions.

This commercial rocks before the brother of the bride is so completely hapless.  Thank goodness for the Hallmark card or he would have really mucked up that speech.

We cry because we are touched deeply by the sentiment and the story.  We imagine that somewhere the situation does exist and we only hope we can find the appropriate [Hallmark] card to express our feelings to another.  We cry because we are emotional and sensitive and soft, at least for the most part.  And don’t think we don’t notice when you men wipe a tear away during movies.

I remember getting that card with that gift—the gift is long gone, but the card is tucked away in a special place.  I pull it out when the days are long and the nights longer and remember that someone loves me.  I used to get cards in the mail from my Grammy and Poppy, even though they only lived a couple of miles away.  And they always used to put money in the cards.  I didn’t care about the card, but I did care about the money.   I guess the real sign of being “an adult” is being almost as excited by the gift as you are by a touching card with a beautifully hand-written sentiment.  As a child, I was just excited to get mail with my name on it.  Now I’m excited to get mail that *isn’t* a bill (though I do get a fair amount of press kits and that’s pretty exciting).  But still, I love receiving cards, and admittedly,  I do appreciate when there’s a money or gift card tucked inside (the confessions just keep coming…)

When I see this one, I’m always reminded of the emotionally charged ending of Mr. Holland’s Opus when all Richard Dreyfuss’s students have a retirement celebration for him, and one of them says, “Mr. Holland, we are your opus!”

Secretly, I dream of starting my own greeting card company.  I could write beautiful sentiments on cards to help others express the words of their hearts!  I could use my photographs as card art–oh, the fun of using my love of writing and photography and art!  I want to make “Hallmark” moments happen.  If I can’t do that, then I’ll just settle for watching moments happen–and of course, super sappy Hallmark commercials.

This Friday I am proud to admit that I’m a Hallmark commercial crier.  If there was a Hallmark commercial channel, I’d probably be watching it 24/7 with a box of tissues in my lap.

***One of my absolute faves is a commercial from the late 90’s called “Dave’s Place.”  A woman named Trish leaves work to see her 34 year-old brother’s new apartment, instead of going out with co-workers.  One of her co-workers scoffs commenting that it’s about time Trish’s brother moved out of his parents’ house.  Then we meet Dave, Trish’s brother, a 34 year-old man with Down’s Syndrome.  He proudly shows off his new apartment.  The rest is vegetable soup, a Hallmark card, and a box of tissues for me.  You can watch the video here.  Sorry, I couldn’t embed it.