Staycation And Opinions

 

Remember those essays we had to write in school on how I spent my summer vacation? I wish I’d saved even one of those.  I did not enjoy writing them, and yet, here I am writing this, no one twisting my arm, maybe no one even reading this.

I’ve just come off a 12-day stretch of staycation, timed perfectly to coincide with the first week of Wimbledon. If you’ve followed along for a while, you know I love tennis. So I spent a lot of my staycation sprawled on the couch, watching Wimbledon. Did I feel guilty that laundry spilled over in the basket; last week’s clean load still on the bed in the spare room, patiently waiting to be folded and put away; specks on the rug glinting in the sunlight awaiting vacuuming? Not in the least.

There might have been a time when being home on days off meant catching up on chores. But no more. With age comes a certain type of freedom, the freedom to indulge oneself, even if that means occasionally adopting the lifestyle of a sloth.

I did get physical activity in (tennis, pickleball, walking, gym), enough to balance the couch potato stretches of the staycation. I read and did some editing on the manuscript I’m working on (confession: the editing also took place on the couch, tv volume turned off during a match in which I wasn’t particularly emotionally invested, satisfied to glance up every now and then to check the score).

I also got outside to attend the annual Pinto Family picnic that always takes place, rain or shine, under a shelter at a lakeside park. There was the usual buffet of good, tasty food, preceded by the passing around of an array of homemade snacks, which included several offerings of chutney sandwiches, all competing for recognition of the best. If you don’t know what chutney sandwiches are:  they’re a kind of spread made from coriander and a bunch of other ingredients (look it up, I don’t know, I’ve never made any). It’s typical Goan picnic sandwich fare, and bragging rights are fierce. I tasted every sandwich on offer and had strong opinions on each, even though I’ve yet to make a batch of chutney (likely never). But every Goan (and even half-Goans like my daughter) feel supremely qualified to pass verdict on chutney sandwiches, since they’ve spent a good many years eating them.

Which brings me to . . . opinions.

In today’s world of constant volleying on social media of facts, half-facts, and opinions (whether such opinions are based on any kind of experience or knowledge appears to be irrelevant), we’ve become quite accomplished in boldly stating our views and convictions. In fact, one is expected to have an opinion on everything, and not to have one is deemed weak and wishy-washy. But what is particularly grating is the spouting of strong opinions under the guise of being informed, when it’s a clear case of posturing and grandstanding.

Opinions are not bad things to have, they make for interesting conversation, as long as one is open to discussion. But, do we need to have one on every single thing? Is it so out of vogue in today’s world to say: I don’t know enough about that to have a strong opinion on it? To admit that we lack the knowledge and facts to make an intelligent statement or comment?

Besides chutney sandwiches, I too have opinions on things I know very little about. Take pro tennis players and how they should conduct themselves, both on and off the court.  I have zero knowledge of what it means to train as a professional athlete, to be in the public eye, to play your heart out alone on one side of the net in front of thousands of spectators. And yet, I’m a couch expert on exactly what they should and should not do.

I could dig deeper and unearth all the opinions I have that are based neither on facts nor good reasons (and maybe you want to make your own list), but I’ll leave that for another day, once I’m done offering advice and scathing comments to pro athletes.