* Two-way traffic
Do you suppose we, as a species, truly understand the pithy little adage of "Relationships are a two-way street?" Because it seems to me the vast majority of us do not. Pick any example of interaction: waiting on line at the grocery store, conversing about whom to cast a vote for, expectations we have with spouses, and it seems we are more bumper cars than sentient, responsive beings.
I don't expect perfection, from myself or others -- I won't be adroitly responsive in every single interaction I have with another living thing. I will get cross at the people jockeying for a one-car-length-improvement in their place at the gas station. I will fail to call and visit my parents and grandparents regularly. I want to spend less time grinding my teeth at the "Me First" mentality that seeps from the pores of the collective American id. And I don't truly define "relationships" as including these transitory, incidental contacts.
But I DO say "Please" and "Thank you" to strangers, I do smile when I pass you in the street, I do pick up my dog's poop so you don't have to scrape it off your shoes later, I don't lollygag when crossing an intersection in front of your car or bike. And for those folks with whom I have a more lasting "relationship" with, I try to return favours done for me. I try to return phone messages when asked. And emails. And I hand write thank you notes, because I've been told countless times how meaningful people have found those simple little notes. I DO try to give more than I receive.
Overall, though, too many of us are so busy getting Ours that we rarely hesitate to concern ourselves with anyone else's "getting Theirs" status. Little Life Quality enhancers like courtesy and consideration seem to have evaporated from John Q Public's lexicon of behaviour. I blame time constraints ultimately -- no one has the time to pay attention to anything more than the rushing blur of scenery and the sound of wind in the ears as we rush from one stop/task to the next, so they MUST have that cell phone conversation, loudly, on the loud train. They can't pause to hold the door because they are late getting off work. They can't let me over in traffic because ... they don't see my blinker? It is also a little bit of entitlement, of expecting others to defer or kowtow. And it's that expecting preferential treatment, of being special or more important ... THAT is what makes me once again ashamed to be human.
And for the friends who abuse my good and giving nature? Maybe I should just stamp this in my forehead: I am not a doormat; don't try to wipe your boots on me, or you may find yourself on your keister.