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Published on 01/27/1997 All articles from this issue

A tentative welcome to 1997

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By Charlotte Kaye Jarmy

Reflections

I refuse to do the usual: welcome the New Year. It's too much like shouting, "The King is dead. Long live the King!" I'd feel like a traitor to a pretty good 1996. So don't expect any resolutions from me.

It was a less than great year for many, however. There are constant reminders of the hundreds who lost homes to floods and slides. Not a great year for people on welfare who now face an uncertain future. And not a great year for children who have suffered at the hands of adults, some of whom they had learned to trust.

But then Clinton came out all right, even though he must face the historians who will judge him for what he will accomplish in the next four years. Politicians promise the moon, but the public sees them as only a bit more trustworthy than used car salesmen and some lawyers.

I did find new admiration and respect for Tom Campbell, who voted his conscience. Let's hope that he will not have reason to regret it. Already the so-called rapport between our two parties has been eroded by carping on both sides.

Well, 1997 has proved no great bargain so far. Friends I care about deeply face health challenges in the coming weeks and months. I read an article about the great strides medicine has made in the past few years, but still dread diseases have not been conquered.

We have serious social ills that cannot be legislated away. There are proposals to punish young unwed mothers. Nobody admires welfare as it was, but our governor hopes to make even tougher rules than the federal government.

What do I ask of the new year? That it be gentle for the young and the sick. If we help the individual and stop pounding out cliched phrases like "building a bridge to the future," maybe we can salvage lives damaged by poverty and drugs.

Cruelty reaches into the streets and homes of safe Los Altos where teenagers find pleasure in inflicting pain on others. Respected men are accused of child molestation, not in Los Angeles, New York or other big cities, but here in our lovely town.

If I sound cynical or angry, it's because I'm ashamed of the big men in government and the little men in our neighborhood. It makes me want to turn my back on the larger world and draw the curtains in my home.

I'll never do that I promise you, and another day will find me laughing, joking and writing checks for wonderful organizations like Second Harvest, that offers real help to the needy.

Tomorrow, I'll attend my water aerobics class whether it rains or is so foggy we have to peer into the mist to see one another.

Tomorrow, I'll call a dear friend and propose a luncheon date to chat and share our thoughts.

Tomorrow, I'll visit the student teachers I supervise and try to help them make a more exciting life for your children.

And I hope that all my tomorrows will be spent loving my husband (who really is as frugal as he wrote), my brother and his wife, my son and little Jeremy. If I could be sure that all of us can look forward to more joy, I would break down and welcome 1997.