<strong>But NoahJ, crying is for pussy, whimp, femmy, bleading-heart, liberals... all of whom are gay. not like he-man tough guys all of whom are white and straight.... so they say to themselves...over and over..</strong><hr></blockquote>
Shoot! Then I better stop right now! Being white, straight, with 2 kids and all. <img src="graemlins/lol.gif" border="0" alt="[Laughing]" />
[quote]... All around the Cassidy home, remnants of Eva linger. Her red-haired cat lolls on the floor, while the hallway features her sun-and-moon mural. In a back room, her father keeps his cello, which he occasionally plays along to his daughter's music. It's the same room where a steady procession of friends and family that Eva called her "angel brigade" maintained a vigil over her bed until her last breath was drawn. The living room, where I interview her parents, is where she sang one final time with Grace Griffith and her brother Dan, a fiddler who lives in Iceland. Weakened from the cancer that spread after a melanoma was misdiagnosed some years earlier, Cassidy managed to softly sing a German version of "Silent Night," perhaps as an early present to her mother, since she wouldn't make it to Christmas.
As her father permits a videotaped viewing of Cassidy's last public performance, a benefit held for Cassidy at a Georgetown club two months before she died, her mother, unable to watch, goes outside to spy the wild violets that were Eva's favorite, now blooming through acidic soil. On tape, Eva enters the club with a walker and takes the stage, her hair ravaged from chemotherapy, her nose seeping from the morphine. After Chris Biondo grabs her around the midriff and hoists her to a stool, she lets go with a version of "A Wonderful World" that could make you forget Louis Armstrong ever sang it. As she reaches the last word of the song, "I think to myself what a wonderful...", she takes a five-second rest. Her face is open and intent, as if she is trying to freeze time by etching the faces of those assembled into a permanent snapshot. "The tears wouldn't stop, man," says Chuck Brown, who grew so emotional he left the stage in mid-song. "She loved life. She loved this wonderful world."<hr></blockquote>
And then I listened to her version of that song. It's on a live album. I don't know if it's the same recording that's on the videotape. First of all, I cannot believe she was able to make that song her own - that song... Second of all, yeah my throat got tight. It is again right now. But Eva Cassidy was a real live person who died much, much too young.
Comments
<strong>But NoahJ, crying is for pussy, whimp, femmy, bleading-heart, liberals... all of whom are gay. not like he-man tough guys all of whom are white and straight.... so they say to themselves...over and over..</strong><hr></blockquote>
Shoot! Then I better stop right now! Being white, straight, with 2 kids and all.
Monsters, Inc. B+
Shrek B-
<strong>
You never cry at movies? </strong><hr></blockquote>
I'll admit it. There are some things that get to me. That article by Matt Labash that I referred to in <a href="http://forums.appleinsider.com/cgi-bin/ultimatebb.cgi?ubb=get_topic&f=6&t=000521"; target="_blank">this thread</a> had this:
[quote]... All around the Cassidy home, remnants of Eva linger. Her red-haired cat lolls on the floor, while the hallway features her sun-and-moon mural. In a back room, her father keeps his cello, which he occasionally plays along to his daughter's music. It's the same room where a steady procession of friends and family that Eva called her "angel brigade" maintained a vigil over her bed until her last breath was drawn. The living room, where I interview her parents, is where she sang one final time with Grace Griffith and her brother Dan, a fiddler who lives in Iceland. Weakened from the cancer that spread after a melanoma was misdiagnosed some years earlier, Cassidy managed to softly sing a German version of "Silent Night," perhaps as an early present to her mother, since she wouldn't make it to Christmas.
As her father permits a videotaped viewing of Cassidy's last public performance, a benefit held for Cassidy at a Georgetown club two months before she died, her mother, unable to watch, goes outside to spy the wild violets that were Eva's favorite, now blooming through acidic soil. On tape, Eva enters the club with a walker and takes the stage, her hair ravaged from chemotherapy, her nose seeping from the morphine. After Chris Biondo grabs her around the midriff and hoists her to a stool, she lets go with a version of "A Wonderful World" that could make you forget Louis Armstrong ever sang it. As she reaches the last word of the song, "I think to myself what a wonderful...", she takes a five-second rest. Her face is open and intent, as if she is trying to freeze time by etching the faces of those assembled into a permanent snapshot. "The tears wouldn't stop, man," says Chuck Brown, who grew so emotional he left the stage in mid-song. "She loved life. She loved this wonderful world."<hr></blockquote>
And then I listened to her version of that song. It's on a live album. I don't know if it's the same recording that's on the videotape. First of all, I cannot believe she was able to make that song her own - that song... Second of all, yeah my throat got tight. It is again right now. But Eva Cassidy was a real live person who died much, much too young.