I am not, by any means, or by any useful definition, a conventional man of conventional courage. Frankly, I have always regarded myself as a physical coward, easily intimidated by physical threats, perceived or real.
I still occasionally smart from my own chickenshit reaction, a few years back, to a physically threatening colleague who busybodied his way into a long -time disagreement of mine with another colleague, a disagreement which remains ongoing and unabated, by the way.
The busybody’s surprise death was closure enough, by the way. I’m good.
To be clear, whatever honesty or bluntness I take credit for derives less from anything resembling courage than it does from the biological aversion to bullshit I learned from the challenging nature of growing up in a family always in one conflict or another with one another.
And then there were the old men—many in their forties!—who argued relentlessly about everything, from the Torah, to the Yankees, to the relative merits of Old Golds over Chesterfields, on the steps of my grandparents’ shul. Adolescent I paid attention.
Add to this the endless and movable feast of spirited discussion, passionate disagreement, sniffy rejection and relentless feuds, all from a long life lived in the company of verbal men and articulate women, all awash with convictions of their own, all equipped with the language, forethought and consideration to defend those convictions to infinity, and occasionally, beyond.
This should give anyone a pretty good idea why, not to mention how, I often rub people the wrong way. Occasionally on purpose. Not always. But often enough.
So yes, I have convictions, and I stand by them. In that regard, over the past few months, I’ve found myself in the odd and discomfiting position of defending a number of people of whom, to be charitable, I am less than enamored, in regard to issues of banishment or censorship.
And spare me that miserable and now cliched neologism, “humblebrag.” I am all too hip, to be sure, that I’m flattering myself here. And to continue this mini avalanche of self-regard, I have no doubt whatsoever that if the situations had been reversed, none of those I have defended would have done the same for me.
Narcissism and self-mythologizing self-regard, not to mention dismissive contempt for me, would never countenance such an act. I recognize and accept that the courage of one’s convictions isn’t necessarily a two way street.
That said, the readiness to rush to surrender one’s convictions under intimidation, genuine or implicit, from any self-righteous, self-empowered and self-regarding witch burner with nothing more than a morally demostrative agenda in lieu of anything of actual value to contribute, other than a personal state of the performance of offense, should leave behind just enough residual shame to recall the chickenshittedness of such ber in what are all too likely rare moments of self-awareness.
This is, of course, apropos of nothing specific, of course.
Naturally. Right. Sure.
As ever, I remain, Howard Victor Chaykin..a Prince who, as noted, holds a grudge like a blood stain on silk.