My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Friday, October 4, 2013
Argument Regret
The conversation, if that is what we would call it, lasted no more than a minute or two but in that time I was offered five arguments if I was willing to have them. None was over anything significant. We might have pretended we were engaged in essential points of discussion, exchanged some guilt, talked more loudly than was necessary and for a moment felt more justified than there was reason to. Better to have declined.
Labels:
argument,
choices,
conflict,
conversation,
guilt,
justifications
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