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Published on 07/06/1998 All articles from this issue

A world of innocence and greed

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By Charlotte K. Jarmy

Reflections

We are so lucky to have a choice of fabulous vacation spots to escape the daily assault from the media. We can visit San Francisco, Marin County, the grape-bedecked fields of Napa Valley, the charming bed and breakfast spots in Mendocino or, as we often choose, the beautiful Lake Tahoe. I have a need to be close to the unchanging glacial majesty of the mountains and the lake itself. Sadly, some of the wonder of the area is ruined by the towns that have grown into monsters of commercial reality.

The news of the world follows us wherever we go: the disappearance of the pretty teenager, the squabbles over Clinton's visit to China, and the irony of thousands of workers who find themselves dumped despite a flourishing economy. We had two televison sets in our timeshare, but we found them more of an intrusion than a source of pleasure. Once in a while we allowed ourselves time to watch the business news, but frankly the ever-changing DOW increased my anxiety about the outside world.

There was something different about this particular visit to Tahoe. Howard's sister and her husband joined us for a few days. We enjoyed driving them all around the lake, sharing their wonder at the "snow-capped mountains and the boulders" as Jerry, our brother-in-law kept remarking. For the seventh time, I boarded the Tahoe Queen eager for the close-up experience of watching the changing colors of the lake, from turquoise to purple-blue and then to the sparkling green of Emerald Bay.

But my greatest delight came when a tiny 3-year old child and I discussed whatever flitted through her busy mind. Her mouth struggled with the syllables of "Emawald Bay" and the thought that a big fish at Marine World "could eat me up." I loved her as if I had known her from birth.

Those were the peaceful moments of our week away from home. Unfortunately, both Charlotte (yes, we share the name) and Jerry came down with miserable colds and retreated to their beds for almost two days. Howard and I used our time to read by the lake and later to hit the slots. I promptly lost almost half of my budget set aside for gambling, though I was surrounded by clanging bells and the plunk, plunk of coins from the machines very close to mine. It's all right I told myself. This is entertainment, even if it hurts.

Charlotte recovered in time to celebrate her birthday at the luxurious restaurant on top of Harvey's Casino. Dramatic views and gourmet dinners kept us very happy for quite a while. Near our table sat two gentlemen drinking wine and enjoying their surroundings as we were. One fellow, friendly and outgoing, despite his loss of $1,400 to the gambling tables, snapped a picture of the four of us, and smiled in amusement at the ongoing "discussion" between Charlotte and Howard about who was going to pick up the bill. Our fellow diner raised his brows when I mouthed the words "brother and sister," which made him smile again.

When Howard presented his credit card, the waiter returned after a short time and said, "Your account is fully paid, sir."

Our mouths dropped in confusion, but after a bit I knew intuitively that our charming acquaintance had decided to surprise us with this unexpected gesture. He accepted our thanks and said it was a pleasure after his gambling losses.

We returned to our apartment with a glow. Here in this place of the raucous pursuit of money, we had received a gift from a stranger. He had made Charlotte's birthday celebration a memorable one. This event and my close encounter with the little girl gave me back my optimism about our future.

We are home ready to deal with the media's concerns once more, refreshed by our experiences and the natural beauties of this very special place. We needed to be philosophical, however, to cope with the loss of our two apricot trees shortly after our return. Perhaps the ghost of young George Washington decided to try apricots this time instead of cherries.

Charlotte Kaye Jarmyis a Los Altos resident and longtime contributorto the Town Crier.