Subconsciously each of us believes we are the parent of an adult daughter named
America, and like real parents we have strong opinions about her boyfriends,
past and present. For example my wife and I were initially quite taken with
George, a nice guy who wore comically oversized hats but came from a good
family. Stories swirled around town about his history as a drunken deadbeat
head case, but he had straightened out his life by the time he met America
and was in many ways a welcome change from her previous boyfriend, Bill,
who was charming and very bright, yet somehow not bright enough to keep his
pants on for eight straight effing years.

In contrast George was faithful and sincere, and as parents we liked that,
but he struck us as a bit dim. In fact he could barely string two sentences
together. We mentioned this privately to our daughter one day and she jumped
to his defense, insisting that when the two of them were alone he read
hundreds of books and talked knowledgeably and articulately about many
subjects. We wanted to believe her--the man had graduated from Yale after
all--but honestly whenever we spent time with George he seemed totally baked.

"What is she doing with this guy?" we wondered. "She's so much smarter
than he is. Well, maybe not smarter, but she works harder. No, that's not
it...." We couldn't put our finger on it but deep down we felt our daughter
could do a lot better. America is a knockout and she was dating Rick Ocasek.

Despite our reservations George did have his boosters in the family. Batty old
Aunt Agnes was especially fond of him. "He has a good heart," she'd croak, God
love her, and we had to admit he did mean well. But even the best-intentioned
hamster will have a tough time operating a city bus, and sure enough when the
road got rocky George began making some odd decisions. The more we questioned
his judgment the more he tried to keep our daughter away from us. Years went
by with hardly a phone call from either of them. In the end even Aunt Agnes
was sick of George. "He's dumb as a rake," she would say. "And where are my
war bonds you rotten thieves!" We miss Aunt Agnes. She's on talk radio now
and getting some excellent numbers in West Virginia.

Last year when America wrote to say she'd decided to dump George we were
relieved. When we met her new beau, Barack, frankly we were ecstatic. Here was
a guy with all of Bill's intelligence and George's sincerity, but with none
of the ethical blind spots or the controlling nature. In truth we could not
believe our daughter's luck, finding Mr. Right well into her third century,
and we probably went a little overboard encouraging their relationship. We
offered to help cover their rent until she found another job at the U.N. We
hinted that we'd love to be grandparents. We sent them an issue of Consumer
Reports with all the minivan reviews highlighted. I'm sure we could have been
subtler. Now she claims our pushiness has started to turn her off Barack,
so we've decided not to make a big deal about Thanksgiving this year. If they
come, they come. However, Christmas at the Lengyels' is not up for negotiation!

So this is the problem right now, politically and psychologically: we're
all obnoxious, meddling, overprotective parents, with polarized opinions
and unrealistic expectations of our daughter's salvation or doom. And our
opinions are heavily colored by our feelings toward her ex. A fair number
of parents out there genuinely liked George. He was pious, he clearly loved
America and wanted to protect her, and they feel she should have stayed
with him despite his tendency to pray while driving and send the two of them
hurtling off cliffs.

It's understandably hard for these parents to accept Obama the interloper,
especially when their friends sing his praises while comparing poor George
to a hamster and accusing him of nearly destroying Earth. In any case I
think we all need to remember that America is on her own now and can make
her own decisions. And she never goes steady for very long.

John Lengyel lives in Cohasset, and realizes that this whole subconscious
analogy disintegrates the minute a woman is elected President, which is
exactly why it would be so dangerous.