The Beautiful Places
I wrote a story back in 2001, after a visit to Colorado. It's still sitting on my computer, in need of a dedicated rewrite, but I was reminded of it while I was in Tahoe. The gist of it comes from a comment I heard someone make to a local in Keystone, and which I've heard (and said myself) many times before and since.
Have you ever been to a beautiful place and thought, "It's so beautiful here. Wouldn't life be so great if we lived here?"
I bet people who live in places like the Rockies or Tahoe or some other place hear that kind of thing all the time, that life would just be so perfect if it could be lived in such a beautiful place. I'll admit, I think that all the time whenever I'm in a place like that. And let's face it, when you grow up in Kansas and live in Minnesota, places like the Rockies and Tahoe are likely to have an exotic appeal.
It's easy to see the people living on the sides of the mountains, or in their multi-million dollar homes next to the lakes, and believe that they are on a vacation just like I am. How could they have actual problems? Domestic abuse? Drug addiction? Why, all those people have to do is breathe that mountain air, or go sit and watch that surf roll in, and all their problems will simply melt away.
You wonder how many times people who work shitty jobs in the tourist or service industries in the beautiful places have to hear how lucky they are to live in the presence of such natural majesty. I bet it makes them sick.
That's what happens in my story. My protagonist has a lot of problems of her own, and one day while she's working at the ski shop she finally flips out hearing about how perfect her life should be, when in fact it's really pretty lousy. Then some other stuff happens, and that's neither here nor there until the rewrite happens.
I mention all of this because for the past day or so, I've had the post-vacation blues. They typically only strike me after I have been to a beautiful place, which I don't think is uncommon at all. For a day, everything seemed less than it should because none of it was in Tahoe.
Mow my lawn? Why bother? It's not like my lawn will ever be in Tahoe.
The cheeseburger I had last night? It was OK...but was it as good as the burgers at the place in Tahoe that I never got to eat at?
Laundry needs to be done? Ugh. In Tahoe, laundry would be glamorous and utilitarian, clean clothes for use in some high-country adventure. Here, they're just for work. Silly, stupid work that I have to keep going to for years and years and years before I'll have earned another day of vacation to go to another place I like better than here but can never really live in.
Meanwhile, I keep thinking of all the people I saw in Tahoe. The Kurt Cobain clone who drove the ferry boat across the Echo Lakes? I bet the only problems that guy has are deciding which stocking cap to wear and which strain of primo weed to pack on any given day. The hot woman who served us lunch at Sprouts on Thursday? Yeah, sure, she's probably working three jobs, but they're all in Tahoe, man! How can she possibly have any problems?
Of course, I know those people all live their lives, just like I do. They have problems, same as people in Minnesota. I realize that. But there's just something about the place they live in. I'm not saying it makes their problems go away, but until I live there I'll believe that even in some small way, when they look out their window and see the lakes or mountains and breathe the air the bad parts of their lives retreat ever so slightly.
I hope that's the case. I'd hate to think that a beautiful place like Tahoe could become old hat, that I could move there and over time not feel anything for the place that's different than what I felt for Kansas or Minnesota.
Beautiful places should always be able to uplift us, even if just for a bit. That's part of what makes those places beautiful.
10:51:08 PM 
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