I watched Greg Popovich in a press conference the other night and loved it.
Pop is cold, short, sometimes rude. Once upon a time, I would’ve thought it needlessly impolite. I placed a higher value then on gentle interactions and decorum. I’m not a naturally rude person, and I looked for sunshine in others and felt uncomfortable if it wasn’t there. I’ve always liked direct people, but preferred it colored with a smile.
Every year that goes by I value politeness less. I don’t really care about rudeness. In more and more instances, I think it’s actually preferable to be colder.
I’m not sure why. I do not feel jaded or bitter or cynical. If anything, I’m more at peace, optmistic, and fulfilled than ever. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps offense at impoliteness betrays nagging tension with our own relationship to the world.
Or maybe I’m just getting old.