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We are a family of criers. Weepers, sobbers, hanky twisting bawlers. We have sniffled through Mother's Day TV commercials, teared up reading a particularly sentimental birthday card - and that's in the greeting card section in Walgreens - and as tiny children, we wailed over the death of Bambi's mom, but then, who wouldn't?

It's a given that you will hear the wail of Walter women crying at weddings - lots and lots of weddings - including our own, our friends, our relatives, virtual strangers and the random wedding we catch on television. We also cry at sad books, happy endings, at least one news story a day and pretty much everything in between. My truck-driving daddy choked up at every reading he did at his daughter's weddings, at the sight of each new grandchild and of course, when Johnny Cash died.

One night my mother and two youngest sisters and I were wrapped in blankets in the den watching an old black-and-white movie. I wish I could remember what movie it was so that I could revisit it now that they have invented Netflix but I can't, so I'll never know what it was. I'm pretty sure Bette Davis or Claudette Colbert or maybe even Loretta Young was in it - but unless Jane or Sarah can conjure up the name, it will be lost for all eternity. We turned off the TV and sat in the darkness wiping our tears and blowing our noses in a solemn act of sympathy for old Bette or Claudette or Loretta as she slipped into the next world.

My dad, just returning from a couple of days on the road, popped his head around the doorway. Seeing his wife and three youngest daughters sobbing amidst a sea of used Kleenexes he immediately looked alarmed and said, "Oh my God! What happened?" "Oh, Dad! It was the saaaadest movie!" Sarah piped up from under her quilt. "It was a movie? I thought somebody died!" he replied. "Yeah Dad, she died in the end! It was sooooo saaad!" That was all he needed to go in search for a beer in the back of the fridge.

There are obvious circumstances where it makes sense to cry. When a tiny child sings "Silent Night" at the Christmas Eve service at church. At really truly sad things. During every single episode of Parenthood. And of course, when anyone else does.

But there are certain times when you shouldn't cry. Like at job interviews. Or on your second date with someone. And if you must weep at work, for God's sake, do it out in your car with the rest of us. Do not cry in the fitting room at Nordstrom no matter how rotund you might look in the 46th dress you've tried on for your old college roommate's third wedding where your ex will probably show up with his much younger and hotter second wife. That's a situation that calls for getting drunk, not blubbering all over a frock you clearly cannot afford.

I've always admired the women who can shed a tear or two and, with a quick swipe of powder and lipstick, revert back to their formerly unchoked-up and composed self. I, on the other hand, look as though I've been a victim of a horrible and sudden onslaught of nuclear fallout. Swollen, reddened eyes, a nose that becomes both shiny and bright pink and lips enlarged to rival Goldie Hawn's at the Oscars. And that's just when I saw a particularly poignant Hallmark commercial.

There is not much I can do to quell the tide of tears once they make an appearance. I've tried thinking happy thoughts, doing the double fan effect with my hands and channeling my own inner unflappable Joan Crawford. No go. Once the tears start, I'm done. So if we ever get together for coffee? Or a movie? Or greeting card shopping? Please bring tissues. Your sleeve will thank you.

- Ronnie Walter

Ronnie Walter is an illustrator, writer and self-professed smart aleck. Over the past 20 years she has licensed her artwork and writing onto a wide variety of gift and stationery products and she's the author of License to Draw - How I built a fun career in Art Licensing and you can too! As Ronnie says, "nobody has more fun at work than me!" She is currently having a great time working on a collection of humor essays to be published in fall 2014. You can find her in the little house by the water she shares with her husband Jim and Larry (the best shelter dog ever) hard at work writing, drawing or blogging on her website, www.ronniewalter.com.