No snark zone

I really want to try this. It’s hard not to OD on snark in this line of work, and I don’t like it.

When it concerns real human strife, it’s ultimately not nice to just be polite. No one would benefit if conversations about World War II were only as substantive as “Hitler? Oh yes, he made lovely watercolors.” It is more humane — and, therefore, nicer — to support justice, even if that means unleashing vitriol.

On the day my month was up, I spoke to a wonderful neighbor about how some of the older folks in town seem a little resistant to people from the city moving in. The old man’s comment about women with names like mine getting divorces came to mind and I quipped that it might have been a mild form of hazing.

My neighbor laughed and asked, “Who said that?”

“A guy named Buddy.”

“Buddy Pinchik?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s so Buddy. He thinks that kind of thing is funny. I like talking to him.” Something melancholy entered his expression. “He tells me about what it was like here before I was born. If my dad were still alive, he’d be Buddy’s age. Yeah, I like talking to him.”

One thing that hadn’t occurred to me: Buddy didn’t mean anything at all by what he said. It was a harmless attempt at conversation, maybe even a touching way of reaching out. Either way, why waste energy assuming ill intent? Haven’t we all said something stupid and realized it sounded insulting? If we stop lashing out against perceived insults and stop subtly eroding our friendships — or even kind relations with strangers — by giving so much attention to the things that bug us, quality of life inches incrementally but noticeably closer to excellent.

Kindness doesn’t have to imply repression. It doesn’t rein in humor or impede the fight for justice. But it does require discipline and substantive engagement with others.

If you disagree, feel free to say so in a considerate manner. Or just keep it to yourself.