- At kids’ birthday parties, while watching my daughters dance with abandon.
- Walking down the aisle to marry Henry.
- When Poppy met Gampy, her namesake, for the first time.
- At parent-teacher conferences, when I hear glowing reports.
- When the Oak Ridge Boys played at my Gampy’s funeral.
- At all Kleenex commercials (ironic, I know).
- Watching proudly as my dad was sworn in as president.
- Often as I’ve written this book—both happy tears of joy and cleansing tears of grief.
- When my grandfather read love letters he wrote to my grandmother during World War II on the Today show. He cried as he read, which created a chain reaction. By the end of the interview, I had tears flowing down my face, mascara everywhere. My steely-eyed grandmother later teased us, saying we were “two John Boehners” (Boehner was a famous crybaby. I relate, John).
- While conducting many interviews for work, listening to people open their hearts. (Sometimes I cry when those I’m interviewing do not. I call this the reverse Barbara Walters.)
- In a motorcade with my Ganny when she came to visit Dallas with Millie, her springer spaniel, in tow. In the car, I finished the chapter book A Dog Called Kitty. I wept uncontrollably when (spoiler alert) the protagonist—a dog named Kitty—dies. As we drove, my Ganny waved out the window. Texans were surprised to see, out of nowhere, the smiling First Lady and her bawling school-age granddaughter. Ganny finally gestured out the window, saying to me, “They’re going to think I’m beating you!” I tried to smile and wave to the crowds, but I continued to whimper while I did it.
- Listening to music, especially songs like Bette Midler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings.” Tell me you can keep it together while watching the movie Beaches. Barbara and I wept side by side when we watched it as girls.
- Six months pregnant with Poppy, hormones ablaze, in front of hundreds of people. As I waited to give a speech onstage, the moderator read my bio: “Jenna married Henry Hager in 2008. In 2013, they had a daughter, Margaret Laura Hager. . . .” The second I heard her name, I burst into tears. I thought, That’s right! I am the mother of Mila Hager! The room was mostly filled with men, who were clearly alarmed by my sobbing. I heard them murmuring, “What is this? What is happening? Is she okay? What do we do?” I pulled myself together and wiped the tears away. I gave my talk. And I refused to feel ashamed by my tears. I thought of my grandfather, after whom I would name this new baby growing within me, and I thought, Gampy would understand. It was one of the guiding rules of his life: “Don’t be afraid to shed a tear.” I think about that rule, and therefore about him, every time I cry. In other words, I think about him all the time.