By the time we reach age 80, there isn’t much we really need — at least not in the way of material things.
So, when a dear friend celebrated this milestone, I wanted to give them something more than a wrapped package with a bow. I wanted to give a gift of time and memory.
After tossing around a few ideas, we finally settled on a destination neither of us had visited in years: Cherokee, NC. To make it special, I booked a stay at Harrah’s Cherokee Casino Resort.
The drive itself felt like part of the celebration. We talked, laughed and let the road wind us through the mountains until the resort’s tall building appeared, nestled in the green ridges.
Harrah’s is a destination in itself, with shops, entertainment, and no shortage of restaurants. For dinner, we chose Ruth’s Chris Steak House, a fitting choice for a milestone birthday. The meal was everything we hoped for—savory, indulgent, and celebratory. We lingered over dessert, talking about how much has changed in 80 years, and how much, in some ways, has stayed the same.
The evening wasn’t over yet. With tickets in hand, we made our way to the Comedy Zone. For two hours, we were swept into a show of quick wit, outlandish stories, and laughter that shook the room. It was definitely not a PG performance, and sometimes a bit embarrassing. By the time we walked out, our cheeks hurt from laughing so much.
With the hour still being early, we decided to try our luck in the casino. Bright lights, the rhythmic hum of machines, and the sound of chips clinking against the felt tables created an energy all its own. We played the slot machines. Sometimes we won, sometimes we lost, but all in all we had a blast. Sometimes, it really isn’t about the outcome, but about the experience of being there, in that moment, doing something out of the ordinary.
The next morning after breakfast at the Selu Garden Café, we left the casino and continued our adventure. We drove out along winding roads that seemed to grow quieter with each mile until we reached the Museum of the Cherokee People. It was here that the trip shifted from entertainment to reflection.
The museum greeted us with a short film that set the stage for what we were about to see. From there, we moved through a self-guided tour that unfolded like the pages of a book. The hallways were lined with murals and artifacts: ceremonial masks, feathered headdresses, and mannequins so lifelike it seemed as though they could speak. One display told the story of Cherokee stickball—a game that is at once sport, ceremony, and tradition. Another described the annual Cherokee Indian Fair, which has been celebrated for more than a century.
We found ourselves slowing down, reading every plaque, and pausing at each display. It wasn’t just history; it was heritage, culture, and survival woven into art and memory. There was a weight to the stories, a richness that reminded us that the land we were standing on carried centuries of lives, struggles, and resilience.
Back outside, the sun beat down, but we weren’t quite ready to leave. We posed for photos beside the hand-carved statue at the entrance, —a tangible reminder of the craftsmanship and artistry that continues today. Curious about the carving, I learned it depicts Sequoyah and was created from a single California redwood tree donated to the artist, Peter Toth, a Hungarian-born American. Dedicated in 1989, the statue is one of 63 monumental carvings Toth has installed across North America and Canada.
Then, in true birthday fashion, we treated ourselves to ice cream cones before heading back down the ridge. Along the way, we pulled into an overlook and stood in awe at the mountains stretching endlessly before us. The view was untouched—no neon lights, no billboards, just the vast quiet beauty of the land. It felt like the perfect exclamation point to our trip.
As I drove us home, I thought about what makes a gift meaningful. My friend doesn’t need another sweater or pair of socks. Instead, a gift that all of us, really — need are moments that make us pause, laugh, learn and feel alive. Cherokee gave us that. It gave us stories, history, laughter and the chance to see the world with fresh eyes, even at 80.