I kept staring at my nails. My hands looked like I imagined Melania Trump’s would — tan, well-moisturized sticks with glossy-jeweled, smoky-pink tips. I should have a diamond engagement ring showing off my finger. I had one once, but it was stolen by a babysitter. Also lifted was my massive American-Indian coin squash blossom necklace, along with my 22-karet-gold bracelet from India. A sterling-silver lavaliere with an opal pendant was filched from the safe in my cabin during a cruise to Bermuda.
But, I still have my nails, spruced up and ready to go nowhere — an excuse to get into Mohonk for the day. For $95, tax and gratuities included, I could get a world-class, ready-for-the-wedding manicure, use the hot tub, sauna and steam room without having to pay the $700-plus-per-day fee to sleep there, eat the food, swim in the pool, the lake and hobnob with the one percent. Maybe I might even spot some celebrities.
I arrived with a chip on my shoulder.
“This is only for rich people. Everyone will be unfriendly and pretentious. What! I can’t use the pool! It’s just for overnight guests!” I thought of sneaking in using my affluent nails as cover. On the way to the spa every employee said, “Hello,” smiled and genuinely seemed happy to greet me. The guests, along with many small children, were dressed in T-shirts and shorts. Only one woman in torn jeans with a beautiful blend of corn silk grayish-bluish hair without a single strand out of place, looked wealthy.
The receptionists at the spa were delightful to converse with, accessible, down to earth, yet respectful and polite. One lovely receptionist, a SUNY student majoring in early childhood education, convinced me to buy a $25 lip gloss. Considering I only had one — 20 years old, worn twice, by now probably toxic, deadly and noxious — made it a potentially lifesaving purchase.
“You look beautiful,” she said. I grabbed the opportunity to tell her, “thank you. I am 79 years old,” to which she exclaimed, “No! You look much younger.” I thanked her again with my hand on my heart, palm turned inward so she could see my breathtaking fingertips.
On to the outdoor mineral pool and hot tub, my real reason for the manicure. I picked a locker, took off my clothes. I reached into my bag for my bathing suit. Not there. The attendant suggested I go down one flight to the spa store and buy one. I haven’t bought a bathing suit in 50 years. As a former dancer, I wear a leotard — black, always black — you know what I mean. The black trick. I asked the attendant if it would be possible for me to go into the hot tub with my leggings and T-shirt on, ostensibly I could blame it on the damaging rays of the sun. “I think you might be chagrined,” she said. An unfamiliar word, I looked up “chagrined” on my phone (distressed, embarrassed at having failed or been humiliated).
From behind me I heard a voice say, “Sorry, but I overheard. Would you like to wear my bathing suit? It is wet, but you are welcome to it. Just leave it in my locker when you are done.” She handed me a drooping, sopping wet bright turquoise one-piece bathing suit with almost no frontal support and a white lace skirt. The last time I wore lace was 55 years ago at my wedding. I put it on. I stayed in the hot tub for 45 minutes. I was happy.
The chip fell off my shoulder. Everyone I encountered was plainspoken, unassuming and laid-back. I noticed more affectation on a $700 total cost, one-week stay on a Carnival cruise line ship.
Who would loan a total stranger her swimming costume? How generous. It turns out I was in-cased for a time in a very important woman’s bathing suit, a doctor who has written seven books, some on the New York Times best-seller list. Like me, a visual artist and a teacher of memoir writing.
Her TED-X talks have been viewed over six-million times. She starred in two national public television specials. She is a well-known spiritual healer. I can only humbly hope my person received some healing energy transferred from her wet body to mine.
Mohonk has always been and still is an amazing place. Kudos to the thousands of people — the owners, the servers, the custodial staff and administrators — who manage to maintain a place of unsurpassed beauty, where attention to detail and kindness has continued throughout decades of changing times.
Mohonk remains the Jewel in the Crown of New Paltz. A gem no one can ever steal from our town.
Join the family! 
