I received a gift from my wife for Father’s Day last Sunday. It was presented to me in a gift bag which had a message printed on the side of it. It read: “Now is a Good Time to Lower Your Expectations.” I had seen the bag before – perhaps used it. It’s been circulating around our family for a while now. It’s a good reusable gift bag.

Really and truly, by the time Father’s Day rolls around, I do not have high expectations. Before that “holiday” hit on Sunday, we’ve had very little rest from events that seem to require greeting cards, gifts and gatherings.

Once Christmas and Valentine’s Day are done, we, in our family are on a fast track for a jammed-up schedule of family birthdays, wedding anniversaries, Mother’s Day, my wife’s birthday, my birthday, and then Father’s Day! Not to mention National Puppy Day, St. Patrick’s Day, National Potato Chip Day, Easter, Hawaiian Lei Day, Lost Sock Memorial Day, and Amelia Earhart Day. (All real, by the way)

Why I haven’t bought stock in the Hallmark Card Company yet is beyond me. Okay – never mind. I just looked it up. Hallmark Cards, Inc. is a privately-owned company based in Kansas City, Missouri. It’s private. They don’t sell stock.

I’m thinking of informing all my card givers that rather than commercial greeting cards, I’d like homemade cards for “my occasions” next year.

For example, for my birthday, I don’t care if they just write on a piece of folded paper. They can just use one of those time-honored birthday verses like: “Roses are Red, Violets are Blue; Poems are Hard, You’re Old.” (As long as it’s accompanied by a box of Hostess Twinkies, I’m good.)

Let’s get back to my Father’s Day gift from my wife. I really didn’t have high expectations for a gift. The Hallmark Card she gave was thoughtful and nice. (She and I both know that certain versions of Hallmark cards can be had for 50 cents apiece at The Dollar Tree store.) The sentiment she wrote was also thoughtful and nice.

There were two gifts in the bag. My expectations were exceeded. There was a bundle of DVDs that had one category of old family video tapes transferred over onto them. She had them transferred by a company that does that sort of thing.

But then, after getting the discs back, she had to view all of them to discover what was on them. Many of our tapes were not labeled. It was a lot of work to do all of that.

We’ve still got much to do to get all our old media digitized. We have picture slides, two types of video tape, and the old Super 8 tapes. It’s going to be fun (and embarrassing, I’m afraid) to watch those old videos.

The other gift in the bag was a shirt. I’m interpreting the shirt gift as a reward. On my birthday, a week and a half ago, I took 8 pair of shoes and about 15 shirts to the thrift store Deseret Industries. It was a bit painful, but it was time to say goodbye. Remember, I’m the one who gets sentimentally attached to clothes which I buy at D.I.

So, my expectations have not had to be lowered lately. Sometimes I tell people, “When all else fails, lower your standards.” I know that some say that you have to have high expectations in order for people to meet them. And that may be true in many instances.

Some people unwittingly meet their own expectations at a low level. This concept is demonstrated by this short version of a well-known story.

A traveler pulls into a small-town gas station and strikes up a conversation with the attendant. (In the old days we had “attendants.” And actually, down in Beaver at the Chevron station on the south interchange of I-15, they have “attendants” even now.)

Anyway, the traveler asks, “What are the people like around here? I’m looking for a new place to live.”

The attendant asks back, “What are the people like in the place you live now?”

The reply, “Oh, they’re not easy to get along with; they’re mean, unfriendly and awful.”

The gas station attendant says, “Well, you know what? That’s exactly the kind of people we have around here.”

The traveler drove away. (And the area was saved from a difficult, unfriendly new move-in)

So, I know this hasn’t been exactly a Charles Dicken’s outtake of the novel “Great Expectations” here. But writing that, just now, does remind me of a little story.

I knew a guy who was in the play “A Christmas Carol.” He had stage fright and forgot his lines. I guess he had the “Dickens” scared out of him. — Merrill

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