Forrest Gump

I remember John Byner, the stand-up comic and impressionist of the 1970s talking about guys crying at movies, how it's not an acceptable behavior. He advised the men in his audience to drop their keys, do something that gets them to lean forward, wipe their faces, and get things under control.

I dropped my keys watching Forrest Gump. Lieutenant Dan comes over the hill at Forrest and Jenny's wedding, new legs, fiancé at his side, clean-cut and happy.

Forrest states the obvious, "Lieutenant Dan, you gawt le-eggs!"

And the water-works just started to flow.

I sit up straight and clear my throat. Got 'em (the keys, that is). My wife leans over and gives me a kiss. She says, "That's why I love you."

Other than a few historical fussinesses and plot slickeries, none of which are worth mentioning, this is as close to a perfect, emotionally-satisfying entertainment as I have ever seen.

I love this movie. I never tire of the simple story of the guy with the lowest IQ in the room being the smartest guy in the room. It's filled with a patriotic decency you can only find in The Wizard of Oz and To Kill a Mockingbird.

When Dorothy is aching for home and the Wizard can't deliver, I drop my keys. When Scout points to the man behind Jem's bedroom door and says, "Hey, Boo," the fob goes flying.

The next time I get out my copy to show to my 11th Grade US History kids, I'll start fingering my key chain.

I can't help it.