And sometimes Christmas wins.
I should be working on papers. Instead, I’m renewing my faith in humanity (ahem: procrastinating) with a judicious application of one of my favorite (terribly sappy) movies.
Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often, it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends. When the planes hit the Twin Towers, as far as I know, none of the phone calls from the people on board were messages of hate or revenge – they were all messages of love.
So far I’ve gotten sniffly at the above quote, (the voice-over during the credits); at Liam Neeson’s call to Emma Thompson (“it doesn’t mean that I’m not terribly concerned that your wife just died”); and during the Beatles cover during Peter and Juliet’s wedding.
I can’t imagine why my boyfriend doesn’t like watching this movie with me.
Oh no, here comes the funeral scene (“Bye, bye baby”). I’m off for the Kleenex.
