Lighthouse, Keeper
An
essay by Stephen Geez
www.StephenGeez.com
Photo by Scott Watson
www.printroom.com/pro/swatsonphoto
A lighthouse is your friend.
You don’t have to captain a ship to need one. In fact, given GPS and other advancements in instrument navigation, lighthouses rarely, if ever, actually guide ships in the dark. What keeps them important to us now transcends mere utility; it is conceptual, a notion of time and place, the evocation of belonging.
The USA boasts many of them, Michigan the most, Wisconsin not far behind, some in disrepair, a few at least somewhat restored. They're tourist destinations, photo subjects, the iconic identities of myriad shoreline communities. People love lighthouses, often adopting a particular favorite, acknowledging it as an old and trusted friend.So what is this fascination with those towers of light?—some reaching toward the sky, others stout and squat, all dependable and, dare I say, loyal.
Some aficionados offer tongue-in-cheek allusions to some variation of Freudian phallic infatuation, but I don’t buy that. Sometimes that train steaming into a tunnel simply needs to reach the other side.
Lighthouses certainly are picturesque, focal points symbolizing man’s determination to rise against the vagaries of nature, demarcations dividing land from water, above from below.
For many they conjure romantic notions of a seafaring past, adventures sailing the mane, navigating by starlight while loved ones bide time on widows’ walks watching hopefully for any affirming sign.
Many are fascinated by the notion of a lighthouse keeper, that lonesome but determined old soul tending the flame, an eternal duty accepted by one best left to dwell alone at the fringe.
We look at a lighthouse and wonder about its stories. How many nights did this one make the critical difference? How many lives did it save?
I’ve always found it paradoxical that lighthouses were built to serve two opposing functions: they warned ships away even while summoning them home. Many a captain peered into the darkness for that telltale alert: Don’t come too close! Watch for the rocks, the reefs, the wrecks!
Yet often they watched for that very same light as a welcoming beacon: This way! You’re almost home.
No matter the reason you might need to find one, a lighthouse’s purpose can be reduced to one simple truth: it tells you where you are.
Just like a friend.
This is easy to take for granted under clear skies, while navigating the calm waters of a simple life, your days bathed in the light of rising sun; but when you find yourself in the dark, lost and feeling adrift, storms raging, a true friend warns you about the rocks and the reefs and the wrecks.
A friend tells you, I am here. You are there. Close or far apart, we are always together.
Yes, Look for me, I know the way home.
Lighthouses mean a lot of things to many people, but to all they symbolize that unextinguishable beacon, the immovable pillar rising from bedrock, solid and sure, dependable, confirming.
A lighthouse is your friend, and your friend’s lighthouse is you.
So keep your own light burning bright. Someone you love might need a warning.
And you might need to find the way home.
* * *
© The Fresh Ink Group, LLC, 2007
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