That’s Life — Steve Bornfeld: Trying to recapture heaven

Friday, May 5, 2000 | 9:26 a.m.

Steve Bornfeld is the Sun features editor. His column appears Fridays. Reach him at steveb@lasvegassun.com or 259-4081.

Agentle wave kissing a single rock. Over and over and over again.

It's a lovely sight. And one mostly seen now only in my mind's eye.

Like many Las Vegans, this Las Vegan was raised elsewhere -- elsewhere being New Rochelle, just north of New York City, on the peaceful lip of the Long Island Sound. And of all the things to miss about it -- despite all the wild wonders of giddy, gaudy, glitzy, glamorous, glorious Las Vegas -- at the top of the Miss List is the serene sight of water.

Not lavish man-made fountains spewing hydro-powered blasts of water high and far into the Vegas sky to the waa-waa trumpets of "Hey, Big Spender," a la a certain Strip hotel.

Just ... God's water.

When this parched soul needed a spiritual libation I'd stroll from my New Rochelle home to the watery oasis surrounding a place called Glen Island Park, scoot down the rocks, plant my fanny near the foamy surf and feel the warm embrace of Mother Nature. I'd dreamily gaze out upon ...

The sound rolling calmly by ... bright sun and brilliant sky shimmering off its surface like delicate diamonds ... sea gulls' cries accentuating the sound's soft, rippling rhythms ... that wave kissing that rock ... well, if the world offered this kind of beauty, life was worth living.

Now, living too far from Lake Mead to enjoy that daily soul replenishment, how does one recapture that splendid seashore serenity in the desert?

For starters I got one of those miniaturized, motorized waterfalls. Its constant gurgling, one soon realizes, is better at evoking nature's call than Mother Nature. I kept it near the bathroom. ... At a red light I was transfixed by the lovely flowing fountain fronting the self-service 76 station at Durango and Sahara. Then the light turned green. I was nastily honked from behind, my reverie shattered. A car swung out around me, its driver mouthing "M-O-R-O-N" as he sped past. ...

In front of the Bellagio, I marveled at the water show. Undeniably spectacular. But there isn't much serenity in dancing, prancing water gushes kick-stepping to "It's up to yoooo, Noooo Yaaaawk, Nooooo Yaaaawk!" ... I bought one of those "travel soothers" that plays the sounds of nature. The "babbling brook" sounded like gargling. I was tempted to buy a spittoon. The "soft rain" setting was fine until the batteries wound down. Then it sounded like bacon frying. I woke up hankering for a couple of eggs. Over easy. ...

On to the Sharper Image Store, specializing in products to help you pretend you are where you aren't. At the Lightscape Relaxation display I slipped on virtual reality glasses that projected an image of an honest-to-God moving ocean. Actually, it looked like a painting with a bad case of hiccups. ... At a cheesy Strip gift shop, I eyed a water-spouting porcelain frog. There's tacky. And then there's TACKY. ...

Finally I realized that nothing can duplicate the marvel that is the human mind, forever cradling a cherished memory that was born in childhood and warmly sustained to this very minute.

I simply sat back at home, set my mind to flashback and transported myself to that splendid sight.

The gulls cried. The water sparkled. The wave kissed the rock.

Thank you, God.