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I was surprised that I wasn’t able to shed a tear. I am an emotional sort of person, but that movie just didn’t do it for me.

That did it for me. I spat up my Coke and had to leave to clean up in the restroom.

She glanced over at my dry eyes and loudly asked, “Why aren’t you crying?” I looked at her in surprise wondering why I wasn’t crying.

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I almost giggled when the thunderous background music crashed down over some dramatic scene. The music was way too loud.

I noticed heads bobbing and turning to look at the cold-hearted 16-year-old girl who didn’t cry. I lowered myself in the seat and tried to squeeze out a tear, but I couldn’t manage it.

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Too many people heard her. Some guys behind us snickered at my sister’s remark.

Finally, the music quieted down, and there was a 10-second lull. The only sounds I heard were people sniffing and sobbing around me. My sister was crying as well.

As the movie progressed, Ali’s character was diagnosed with cancer. It was sad; I understand that. But everyone in the packed theater— and I mean everyone—seemed to be crying. I was the only person sitting there like a rock, staring straight ahead.

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The acting just wasn’t believable. Ali’s swearing seemed so rehearsed, and Ryan played the poor little rich boy who played hockey.

My cousin didn’t want to go, but he had a car and could drive us to the theater.

Ali’s character called him "Preppy," if I remember right. He attended Harvard and she went to Radcliffe College.

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Someone in the audience (who wasn’t paying attention) asked where the movie took place. Being born in the Midwest, my cousin jokingly shouted, “Iowa!”

My sister, a cousin, and I went to see “Love Story” in 1971 at a theater in Minneapolis. The movie starred Ali MacGraw and Ryan O’Neal.