By Charlotte K. Jarmy

Reflections

Dear Family, friends and faithful readers: I swore that I would never write a holiday letter, but I’ve learned not to say “never.” This message is the way to connect with all our friends, not by e-mail but with carefully chosen words, especially as the year ends.

We look forward to better days, no falling buildings, no guns carried by American soldiers, no tears choking us every time we remember September 11.

I started to compose this message in the dark of the night when sleep eluded me. It was too cold to dash out to my new computer, though I realized that most of my wonderful ideas would dissipate with the coming of the light.

I wish I had a save button in my brain. Despite the clanging down of the gates on the old year, there have been memorable moments to hold close: Jeremy’s face when he read the little story I wrote for him, Ron’s pleasure in his new job., Howard’s victory over the virus that had us consulting all the medical journals, my brother and sister-in-law’s delight with their new condo, and my growing ability to deal with the physical ailments that came unannounced.

Then came the fear. We were in a different kind of war, unbelievable stories of American deaths and illnesses from anthrax filled the news. There was a mixture of disbelief and terror when we heard that our beautiful bridges could be targets.

How to cope? A very vital woman visited my Creative Writing class and talked about her experiences as a Holocaust survivor, the deaths in her family, and her own part in battles as part of the Israeli Navy. She had written an autobiography with a strong message for young children: do not be ashamed of your fear, and never let it paralyze you.

One night, two phone calls from across the country made me smile with amazement. Two people that I had known in my youth found my name in a letter I had written to the New York Times and called. We joyfully shared past memories and brought each other up to date. The voices came from strangers. Fifty years is a long time, but the affection came from loving hearts reaching across the years and the miles. I hope to hear more from these friends next year.

Another miracle, my dear mentor and colleague from Mountain View High rallied from an almost certain death and is once more fighting for her health.

Wonder of wonders, people do have the strength to survive; which brings me to Hanukkah and the miracle of the oil that burned for eight days when it only had oil for one. That ancient miracle, over 2,000 years ago, created the festival of lights and brought hope to a courageous band of people fighting for their freedom.

We will need that same kind of courage to face what 2002 has in store for us. I wish you dreams of peace and wonderful holidays. You are all in my thoughts.

Jarmy’s column is published the third week of the month. Send comments and suggestions to her c/o editor Bruce Barton at bruceb@latc.com.