Thanks to political correctness, I can no longer converse freely with my three adult children. I live in the South; they’ve scattered across the country. I think I’m a good person. No one has ever called me racist — except my children. When I was young, my parents hung a Confederate flag in our home. I remember it fondly because I remember them fondly. Recently, our town removed a Confederate statue from our cemetery. When I lament these changes, my children get furious with me. But it’s my opinion. I also believe black people deserve equal rights. Doesn’t freedom of speech exist anymore?

MOTHER

Freedom of speech lives! No one is stopping you from flying a Confederate flag on your private property or longing for one. Many people have taken them down, though, because fond memories of childhood (like yours) are dwarfed by the flag’s brutal history in the war against slavery and its celebration of legal racism.

I suspect your children are frustrated with you for prioritizing fuzzy nostalgia over racial atrocity. They would probably like you to be more sensitive to the pain Confederate symbols can trigger in others. (That may also be why your town removed its Confederate statue from public land.)

Now, pinning this conflict on “political correctness” implies that your children are being insincere or oversensitive. But how could routine encounters with such memorabilia not provoke stinging reminders, for many, about the cruelty of slavery and the continuing inequality of black Americans in so many arenas?

A likelier reading, to me, is that you want the freedom to speak and also the freedom to silence other people’s reactions to what you’ve said. But that’s not how freedom works! No one is silencing you. Your kids are just asking you to focus on the bigger picture, beyond yourself and your childhood, with greater sensitivity to others.

While We’re on the Subject of Flags

I love flags. We display a variety of them outside our suburban home: the American flag, the French flag on Bastille Day, the flag of Baltimore when the president trashed that city. This month, we have gay pride and transgender flags up. It’s my way of stating my beliefs. I would love to put up a Black Lives Matter flag, but as a white person, I want to be appropriately supportive and not an appropriator. Thoughts?

M.

Fly all your flags! You hang them in solidarity with people and causes you believe in. Saying that black lives matter, whether on a T-shirt, a flag or a tattoo, is a statement of support and totally appropriate for an ally. Appropriation would be claiming the experience of racial oppression as your own. That’s not what you’re doing here.

Social Distancing, One Year In

My nephew and his fiancée were planning a big wedding in July. It was hard for them to give up the idea, but they decided to have a small backyard wedding on the original date and throw a big party next year. There will be 25 guests at the wedding and a dinner afterward. I know this has been stressful for them. When I jokingly asked if this would be a masked wedding, my nephew said they hadn’t thought about it. I don’t want to add to their stress, but my husband and I are at a higher risk of severe illness from the coronavirus. I don’t want to stand to the side during the ceremony and dinner. How should I ask about their social distancing plans?

AUNT

Be direct. And knock off the jokes this time. (It sends a mixed message about your seriousness.) Stressed or not, being a responsible host these days requires a plan for masks and social distancing. If the bridal couple doesn’t have one a month before the wedding, or if their plan makes you uneasy, decline the invitation nicely.

We’re all in different circumstances and have different comfort levels with safety precautions. (Personally, I don’t see myself at a gathering for 25 anytime soon, and I don’t apologize for that.) Prioritizing your health is sensible. Don’t negotiate, though. It’s not your party. Just clarify the hosts’ plans, then accept or refuse the invitation politely.

Eco-Friendly Gift or No Gift

I was invited to a friend’s baby shower that was canceled because of the pandemic. I’d like to send a gift, but I was disappointed to see her registry is full of conventional disposable diapers. I get that cloth diapers aren’t for everyone, but my friend can afford disposable diapers that are biodegradable. Would it be passive-aggressive to send eco-friendly disposable diapers, or should I buy something from the registry? (Honestly, the alternative is to send nothing. I am low-key outraged by people who ignore their basic moral responsibility to take care of our planet.)

ANONYMOUS

Whoa! I was right with you until your outrage kicked in. Wouldn’t it be more effective to send a box of eco-friendly diapers with a nice note about why you prefer them? A first-time mother-to-be may not have given much thought to diapers. You’d be doing her (and our planet) a favor by explaining your position. And keep the righteousness to a minimum.

For help with your awkward situation, send a question to SocialQ@nytimes.com, to Philip Galanes on Facebook or @SocialQPhilip on Twitter.

LONDON — Wearing a fedora and faded jeans, Bruno Mars strikes a contemplative pose in the portrait on sale at Masterpiece Online. It costs $1.2 million, which may sound hefty for a work on sale at a virtual fair. But the charcoal-and-crayon canvas from 2018 is by David Hockney, who holds the record as the world’s most expensive living artist.

The portrait is offered by Annely Juda Fine Art, which has represented Hockney in Britain since the early 1990s. It’s in a similar style to one of Ed Sheeran, also priced at $1.2 million, which hangs in the gallery’s Mayfair space. Mr. Sheeran introduced the artist to Mr. Mars, who then dropped by for lunch with Mr. Hockney in Los Angeles. The artist found him lively and interesting, and asked to draw and paint him, said David Juda, the gallery’s director.

Mr. Juda and his mother, Annely, a prominent German-born art dealer, founded the gallery in 1968. It is still representing major artists and their estates in Britain, including Hockney, but also Christo (who died last month), the sculptor Anthony Caro (1924-2013), and the painter Leon Kossoff (1926-2019).

Why has Mr. Hockney stayed with the gallery instead of switching to one of the many mega-dealers in London?

“David Juda is the least slick dealer that I know, with a modest house,” Mr. Hockney said in an email. “He puts all his love into the gallery and always pays me promptly. Why should I leave?

“I don’t think I’m much of a careerist,” he added. “I never gave it too much thought. I am always busy making my pictures, and my dealers have to take it that way, and they all do.”

Mr. Hockney also noted that he did his first drawings of Mr. Juda in 1972, “when he had much more hair.”

In an interview, Mr. Juda recalled that before starting the gallery, he worked as a waiter on a luxury liner, “which, I’m sure, stood me in good stead to be an art dealer.”

“To be a first-class waiter, you need patience,” he said. “You also get a very good idea, very quickly, of people’s character: how awful they are, and how nice they are.”

The following conversation was edited and condensed.

How did you come to work with David Hockney?

My mother knew him from about 1966. In 1971-72, when I was in my 20s, he started to draw me quite often, and that’s how we got to know each other.

What is he like?

He’s probably the most intelligent artist I know. He’s so inquisitive about everything. At the moment he’s in Normandy, painting, and he sends me pictures all the time. He’s a workaholic, in the nicest way.

Hockney is pretty easy to work with, inasmuch as he understands what’s needed, and doesn’t want to bother about unimportant things; he’s continually being asked by people to do this and that. You’re going to see wonderful work coming from him in the future.

Do you have any stories to share about him?

In the late 1970s, my first wife and I separated, and I desperately needed some money. David had given me a drawing of myself. I rang him and said: “Would you mind if I sold it? I’m getting a divorce.” I sold it for 1,600 pounds.

We had a show in the mid-90s, and David said: “You need some more drawings. Come over to the studio.” I went to see him, and as I was going through some drawings, I went past one of a young kid with long hair. It was a drawing of me. He had planted it there. He said: “Wouldn’t it be nice if you had that?” and gave it to me.

That really explains him: It’s clever, it’s sensitive, and it’s generous.

How did you meet Christo?

In the summer of 1968, I worked for the Documenta exhibition in Kassel, [West] Germany. Because I spoke German, I was meant to help him coordinate things for a couple of weeks. It ended up taking three months. It started our lifelong friendship.

Originally, he had a balloon, and inside there was going to be helium. He borrowed $10,000, which was needed for the helium to get this 280-foot phallus up. It went wrong, and the balloon burst, and he lost the whole lot. He was penniless, basically.

We realized that there was no point in getting more helium in. We used two enormous cranes to lift it up, and all we had was air in it. Instead of this being ready for the beginning of Documenta, we got it up in November, when Documenta was finished.

What was he like?

He was remarkable. He was also a fanatic for his work, in the nicest possible way. I think both Christo and Hockney suffered from art-scene snobbery.

Lots of people put Christo down, because the general public loved his work. He’s a much bigger artist than he’s recognized for today. In about 10 years’ time, you’re going to really know how important Christo is.

David is also really well known. He and I were once in a taxi about 10 years ago, going off to his place. The taxi driver asked me what I did, and said: “I don’t like a lot of contemporary art. Who I do really like is David Hockney.” David, who was sitting in the back, was thrilled.