Volume I, Issue ii

October 1998

Small Stuff: Meditation on Peeling Paint by Teresa Leslie

Note: This column grew out of conversation with my fellow GHR editorial board members. I want to thank Amy, Arda, Joan, and Judy for the delightful discussion, and for allowing me to use their brilliant insights in my column.

One of my favorite GH sets is the front porch of the Spencer house. Invariably, when we get to see the exterior of the Spencer house, someone somewhere in cyberspace will comment, "GH needs to paint that set." I disagree. Yes, the house looks run-down, and in desperate need of a coat or two of fresh paint, but there's a reason for that, I would argue. The Spencer house is a perfect metaphor for the Spencer marriage, and its worn exterior speaks volumes. It's another one of those "small things" I love about GH.

What makes the house work so beautifully as a metaphor for the marriage is that there is a sharp contrast between the public facade and the private interior. While the paint is peeling and the exterior is dilapidated, the interior is warm and inviting. Laura has created a home, complete with a mantle filled with family pictures and a refrigerator decorated with children's art and more photos. Out behind the house, unseen from the street, she has tended Mary Mae's roses and expanded the garden, creating another oasis of beauty and tranquility.

While the interior, the private side, is well cared for, then, the exterior, the public side, is not. The exterior is what others see, the facade the Spencers show the world; the interior is what the family sees, the reality behind the facade. The Spencers put no great store in "curb appeal." The Spencer home, like the Spencer marriage, stands out for that reason. From the outside, nothing seems to have changed at the rambling house on Charles Street. The exterior, which was shabby when they moved in, is unchanged, while the interior has been transformed and personalized into the Spencer home.

Luke, in particular, has never been concerned about what people thought of him, or the judgements people made based upon appearances. For him, the exterior just doesn't matter. It's what's inside that counts, and on the inside, there is no shabbiness. Laura has learned to appreciate this perspective over the years as well. In her youth, she was terribly concerned about public opinion, and conforming to societal expectations. Today, her views are closer to her husband's, and she is less worried about the impression she makes on society and more focused on the concerns of her family.

Laura cares about her house, and treasures it as the first true home she has ever had as an adult. It seemed appropriate that we recently saw Laura cleaning her oven when Kat dropped by for a visit after Luke left town. Laura was maintaining the home fires, keeping things ship shape where they count most in her world. She concedes the shabby exterior and works at creating a beautiful home inside.

Has Luke ever even noticed the faint air of decay? I think so. I can not be certain that it is a conscious choice, but I do think that leaving the house unpainted and worn is a statement on his part. For one thing, painting the house would add an air of permanence, the sense that someone lives there and takes care of it. Luke, the wanderer, may not want to admit to putting down roots to that extent. As long as the home is pretty much as they found it, externally, it is in some ways just another in a series of houses they have lived in, another place to lay their heads, rather than a home, a destination, a place to belong.

Luke himself is aware that the house is a symbol. A few years ago, when the Spencers staged Laura's death, he had a conversation with Lucy after the "funeral," in which he shared his feelings about the house, and while his pose as a grieving widower was a hoax, I believe his statement about the house was completely true. He said, "I've always hated this house." He spoke about the house being Laura's territory, and about putting up with domestic bliss, with having a house and a yard and a dog and all the other accoutrements of "normal" family life, for Laura's sake, because it meant so much to her. It was clear that he put up with all that because it was a package deal; he loved Laura, and Laura loved making a home there.

It's almost as if Luke has said, in the past, "I'll go along with this, because domestic tranquility is what Laura craves, but I won't let it dominate me or change who I am deep inside." He was willing to live in the cozy home Laura loves, but he would not invest his labor or his own love in it. This benign neglect has worked in the past, but I don't think it will work any longer. Perhaps when Luke returns to Port Charles, he will notice the run-down appearance of the Spencer home. If Laura and Luke work things out and reunite as a couple, I think a coat of paint might finally be in order. After all, they sit in that porch swing from time to time, so it is not just strangers who have to look at the facade. If they won't consider how it looks to the neighbors, they should consider how it looks to one another.

Follow-up to last month's column:

Yes, we had another Laura-to-Stefan "thank you" since my last column. First, we had a lovely echo of the motif when Laura thanked Nikolas the other day. He had gone to a lot of trouble organizing the luncheon he shared with her at Wyndemere. Laura choked up when he talked about gathering stories about her from others, not having memories of his own with her in them. He spoke of having the chance "to build our own memories," and Laura, tears in her eyes, answered "Thank you."

Later in that visit (as I recall), Nikolas left Stefan and Laura alone momentarily, and she thanked Stefan yet again for all he had sacrificed for Nikolas's sake, giving him credit for the excellent job he had done raising their son and keeping Nik unspoiled by Helena. Stefan answered that it was a privilege to raise the boy. It was touching to see both Cassadine's gallant responses to Laura's expressions of gratitude.