One Good Thing

To the Lighthouse!

[My oft-read copy of my favorite novel]

I read To the Lighthouse every summer, choosing a quiet day to dive into Virginia Woolf’s elegiac prose. When I do this on that quiet summer day, I let myself drift along with the story of the Ramsay family, who are summering in their house on the Isle of Skye and on a particular day plan an outing to cross the water in order to visit the lighthouse.

It takes the Ramsays many years to finally complete their journey to the lighthouse.

I’ve never actually been inside a lighthouse. Has anyone? When I lived on Block Island, I used to ride my bike up to the bluff overlooking the sea in order to look at the island’s lovely lighthouse, which is constantly threatened by the eroding bluff (it was moved back from the bluff in 1993), but I don’t remember ever going inside the structure.

On our visits to Nova Scotia, my sister, cousins and I make excursions to the spectacular Peggy’s Cove lighthouse. Afterward, we eat lobster and drink beer at a little crab shack. We do this because … this is what we do.

[My cousin standing at the massive lighthouse in Peggy’s Cove, Nova Scotia]

And so … with that preamble, here, now is a brief story which contains a series of small surprises, some luck, and a tiny adventure, which even as I was experiencing it, I knew I would never forget.

Last week was fairly hellacious.

I experienced an extremely busy and stressful work week, and I couldn’t wait to get to the finish line, which for me usually happens on Wednesdays.

And then — just as the finish was within my sights, I received an email:

Would I like to go to Portland, Maine, to tape NPR’s comedy quiz show Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me on Friday?

Why yes, I would.

Oh — THIS Friday?

OK.

Michaela was visiting. She had also had a rough work week. (In fact, everybody I know had a rough week.) Would she like to come with me to Portland Maine?

Why yes, she would.

And should we stay an extra day in Portland, Maine? Why yes — yes we should.

By the way, Portland is lovely. Portland is what all cities should be like.

The show went well. A theater packed with Mainers. Mainers! We all laughed. A lot.

[Mainers! Mainers laughing]

After the show, I approached the edge of the stage where two audience members were standing. I crouched down and spoke to them.

Pam lives in Portland. Her friend Charlotte was visiting for the week and was standing next to her.

“So, we have one day in Portland. What should we do?” I asked Pam.

“Take a boat tour around Casco Bay,” she said.

“No … wait! You should go see the Portland Head Light Lighthouse.”

Hmmmm, I thought. A lighthouse.

Pam outlined the history of the place. Built atop its rocky point, supervised by George Washington, and operated since 1791. George Washington!

Hmmmm, impressive, I thought. A very old lighthouse.

Pam added:

“Oh — and I have the key.”

Wait. You have a key to the lighthouse? An actual key which actually unlocks the lighthouse?

Yes. Turns out that Pam is a lieutenant in the Coast Guard helping to coordinate search and rescue missions, and the Coast Guard is in charge of the lighthouse. (Pam portrayed her key-stewardship as no big deal, but it seems like a very big deal to me.)

We exchanged numbers and agreed to meet at the lighthouse at 9:30AM.

Hmmmm, I thought. A caper. I love a good caper, especially if it involves a very old lighthouse.

We met at the appointed time. Maine was delivering a good old-fashioned rainy and wind-swept day. Way to go, Maine!

The coast was looking like a postcard version of itself.

Pam unlocked the door at the bottom of the lighthouse.

[Pam and Michaela]

We four (Pam and Charlotte, Michaela and I) climbed the narrow metal spiral staircase, which gets more and more narrow as you near the top.

[Thick walls and a porthole near the top]

The staircase got so narrow that I understand now why there are no overly-large lighthouse keepers (if there are any lighthouse keepers at all…).

[A whorl of a staircase. Like a nautilus.]

This is an actual working lighthouse, and at the top, the light was spinning on its timed course, punctuating our experience.

Wow.

We four stood there for a long time, looking out at the roiling sea and marveling at the ocean’s beauty and power. We told little snippets of our life stories.

[Pam (left) with Charlotte. Little did Pam know that she was on a rescue mission]

Pam politely asked me for my best piece of advice (“Talk to strangers and let them take you to lighthouses!”) She led me through some of the highlights of her very interesting career (coordinating ocean rescues, most recently of a lobster fisherman lost at sea).

[View from the top]

If you ever want to be hit over the head and then illuminated by the most obvious metaphor for what it means to be a human on this planet (and who doesn’t want that?!), I suggest visiting a lighthouse.

I really really do.

And now this:

We are just specks in this roiling sea, awaiting rescue.

If you are very lucky, when you’re at your most lost and lowest point … the lighthouse’s beam will reach you.

And if you are smart, you’ll surrender to this rescue and let it guide you home.

I wish for the very same for each of you.

Love,

Amy