LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Gay 'n Gray |
by John D. Siegfried |
Great Expectations As we approach the holiday season, most people, if they think of Charles Dickens at all, think of his immortalized Christmas Carol. But I think of another Dickens novel, Great Expectations, one that most of us snoozed through at some point in high school English. It's the story of the orphan boy Pip who moves into the upper echelons of nineteenth century English society and as one reviewer noted, "Pip's journey through life is a very refreshing look at how distorted we let our lives become by focusing on the unimportant." Now, Great Expectations is a web site for singles dating. But as the holidays approach, great expectations are a universal phenomenon. My partner reminds me daily when December twenty-fifth approaches that what he wants for Christmas is, "a big gift." The big part is usually drawn out into a two or three syllable word and my standard answer is, "You're getting a big gifta big disappointment." I suspect that what he wants is a new car, but when I gave him a new Thunderbird more than a decade ago, he wasn't impressed. The fact that the Thunderbird was a bank with a slot on the top for coins, and my Christmas note said, "Save your change and someday you can buy one," might have been part of the reason for his less than enthusiastic response. But great expectations aren't uniquely literary, nor are they exclusively seasonal. We all have them. I was reminded of that recently while watching a rerun of Sex and the City, a show that always has some great punch lines mixed with its over-the-top stereotypical portrayal of sophisticated New York career women. Every episode has a serious theme sweetened with humor. Separation, loss, death, birth, redemption, unexpected responsibilityall come under the spotlight of Carrie Bradshaw, the newspaper sex columnist who serves as protagonist. Tucked away in the script are occasional gems worth savoring. In the rerun I recently enjoyed there was a scene in which Carrie was telling an editorial colleague about her disintegrating relationship with a male friend. When Carrie expressed her disillusionment the editor's response was, "Stop expecting it to look like what you thought it was going to look like." That's a quote I don't want to forget. It rings true to my experience. I can't count the number of times that when things have become fouled up with family relationships or with friends the sort of thing that results in separation and isolation which makes the holiday season grim for millions of uswhen the dust finally settles I realize that the real source of my problem was my unrealistic expectations. Carrie's editor friend could have been speaking to me. "Stop expecting it to look like what you thought it was going to look like." As I was growing up I saw my relationship with my father as distant and cool. I was well into my forties before I was able to reevaluate that relationship and recognize that what I wanted in a father was a teddy-bear, a playmate, a listener, a hugger. I wanted a close warm and fuzzy relationship, the kind that I fantasized other kids in the neighborhood had with their dads. I wanted the Dad who would play ball with me and go to the parent teacher's conferences and the school plays. That's not what I got. My father was a Pennsylvania German blue-collar worker who kept food on the table, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head, which, during the Great Depression of the 1930s, was no small feat. He fulfilled the expectations of the culture and tradition that shaped his life and, as I later realized, the qualities required to fulfill my expectations of closeness and affection weren't his to give. Ironically, when I finally realized that the root cause of the emotional distance I perceived to be between us was my unrealistic expectations, I was able to see my father in a different light and the closeness and warmth I had wanted as a child began to develop. Also, as a parent, when my own children were young, I had to recognize that some of the expectations I had for myself were unrealistic. Attempting to be the good father, I purchased all the rods and lines and plugs required to take my kids fishing. Somehow, in my mind, taking your kids fishing was one of my expectations of being a good father. After several disastrous attempts, I was forced to acknowledge that I didn't even like fishing. To me it was boring and a waste of time. There was no way I could instill in my children a love for a sport that I hated. If they were ever to enjoy fishing it would have to be through sharing the experience with someone who enjoyed it. I was incapable of meeting my own expectation. Similarly, I've been in relationships where my expectation of exclusivity set the stage for disaster. In the nether world of getting-to-know-you, which plagues all intimate relationships, male and female, gay and straight, lack of a mutual understanding of, and acceptance of, each partner's expectations is a sure-fire recipe for disaster. A Washington couple whom I've known for many years, and who have been together for more years than I've known them, recently faced the dilemma of resolving the fact that one partner had expected the relationship to be sexually exclusive; his partner had not. A lot of the subsurface frustration and anger that had plagued their relationship over the years began to dissipate when they reworked their expectations with professional guidance. The holiday season is particularly prone to great expectations. Kids expect gifts and they may end up euphoric or disappointed as they tear the wrappings to shreds. Adults expect invitations to parties and warm family gatherings, and they may end up euphoric or disappointed as the holiday season grinds on. But keeping in mind the editor's advice to Carrie, "Stop expecting it to look like what you thought it was going to look like," is a marvelous tool to help us through the holiday season and the year ahead. John Siegfried, a former Rehoboth resident who now lives in Ft. Lauderdale, maintains strong ties to our community and can be reached at hsajds@aol.com.John Siegfried, a former Rehoboth resident who now lives in Ft. Lauderdale, maintains strong ties to our community and can be reached at hsajds@aol.com. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 17, No. 15 November 21, 2007 |