At one time (I’m pretty sure about this, although my memory is fading) I thought I was right about everything. Politics, music, movies. There wasn’t an area where I didn’t think my opinion was Truth Itself, and everybody who disagreed was just dribbling goo down their chins. (And I would never, ever have used a mixed-number construction like the one in that sentence.)

Here’s the thing, though. I wouldn’t argue. Whatever points I had to make I kept to myself. I don’t like the white noise of clashing opinions bouncing madly off each other, or the hurt feelings a belief-based dispute lays bare for all the world. If I ever believed I could change someone’s mind, maybe I would have tried. I got a little tongue-tied, though, when confronted with passion, however misguided I believed it to be.

It’s different now. I’m different. I still think I’m right, but I’m no longer so sure of it that I dismiss the possibility that it would be wrong to think a different way. That’s an even better reason not to get into arguments. Anyway, the world is too noisy and disjointed already without adding to the cacophony. I’m happy to listen while everyone else stakes out a claim. Surprisingly often, somebody along the way will express my side, probably better than I would. I like when that happens.

The funny thing is that I like opinionated people. I admire anyone who can express a rational point of view, whether I agree with it or not, in clear, passionate language. That doesn’t mean I want to hear blowhard political bluster, which is pretty much all there is in the media nowadays. But it still leaves music and movies. In the arts, there’s still room for critical judgments that I can understand and appreciate without necessarily embracing.