Thanks, Hanks

Thanks, HanksOn a Saturday afternoon in August, six weeks into the run of Forrest Gump, every seat in the movie theater was filled—filled with the ordinary people of Michigan City, Indiana, who were like the movie audiences of my youth: not loud, not restless, not talking to the screen, not filled with bloodlust, but quite happily absorbed in the picture. At times some of them were crying. Looking around, I saw that many of those crying were men. I did not know what to make of this.I had come to...