After my seafaring career had concluded,
and when the children were still quite young, we often went to the seashore to
admire the ocean. We had a number of
favorite locations that were reasonably close to our house, to my parents’
house, or to my in-laws’ house. Several
of these spots contained lighthouses, and in the seasons of the warmer weather,
we visited them regularly.
As a mate aboard ship, I had always
viewed lighthouses as strictly utilitarian objects, although admittedly, many
of them looked quite attractive architecturally. But I was using them for navigational, not
artistic, purposes, and so I gave their aesthetic appeal little attention.
Miss Patty held another view, however. While recognizing the lighthouses as important
navigational beacons, she also saw them as emblematic in a metaphysical and
spiritual way. For as they shone their
lights through the nocturnal darkness to guide seamen on their voyages, they
represented the supernal “light that shineth in [spiritual] darkness” (John 1:5)
to guide all people everywhere on their voyages through life. By displaying artificial illumination of
impressive intensity visible for many miles at sea, they represented “the true
Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world” (John 1:9). In this sense, one might say that they were
“sent to bear witness of that Light” (John 1:8).
In the daylight hours, the lighthouses’
distinctive appearance—tall and slender and often white, the traditional color
of purity—caused them to stand out clearly from their surroundings as beacons for
passing ships. They served the same
purpose both day and night; only the method changed. We visited these lighthouses in both daylight
and darkness, although admittedly more often in daylight with small
children. But day or night, their
metaphorical value and spiritual significance remained undiminished. They always bore mute testimony of “the true
Light.”
These lighthouses were usually situated
in secluded places, far from the madding crowds of summer tourists. This serene atmosphere enhanced their
spiritual value, and we spent many happy hours quietly imbibing the combined
ambiance of the sea, the shoreline, and the lighthouses. They were precious times.
I’ve selected several
photographs from our lighthouse-hopping travels with the children, and I’m
happy to share them here:
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One of our many visits to the Portsmouth area
took place on Saturday, July 23, 1994.
Posing placidly on the seawall in New Castle, New Hampshire, are James
and Steven, with the Portsmouth Harbor Light watching over them. To the right lies the open Atlantic. To the left the Piscataqua River leads to
downtown Portsmouth.
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Miss Patty’s favorite lighthouse is Nubble Light
in York, Maine. Situated on a small
island just across a narrow channel from Cape Neddick, the Nubble has long been
one of New England’s most popular and most photographed lighthouses. Access to the island and the lighthouse
itself is prohibited, so even on a busy day the view of the structure remains clear. In this late afternoon
portrait from Saturday, June 28, 1997, the western sun illuminates the Nubble
perfectly.
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Several miles offshore from the Nubble lies a
cluster of rocks called Boon Island. A
treacherous outcropping that spelled doom for several merchant vessels in the
colonial era, it was eventually fitted with a light to prevent further
disasters. Like the Nubble , it is not
open to visitors, but we came close on Monday, July 24, 2000, aboard the tour
boat Oceanic. A very interesting spot with a long and
colorful history,
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Guarding the entrance to Portland Harbor is Portland
Head Light in Cape Elizabeth, Maine.
Merchant vessels arriving in and departing from Portland pass directly
in front of Portland Head. While a
popular destination for summer vacationers, it does not become overly crowded
but remains peaceful and quiet. This is
a noon time view on Wednesday, April 30, 1997.
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A short walk from our house in Nashua lies the
Merrimack River, and at the mouth of the Merrimack lies the city of
Newburyport, Massachusetts. The estuary
where the Merrimack and the Atlantic meet is marked by the diminutive Plum
Island Light, shown here on Friday, June 22, 2000. As evidenced by the adjacent bird house, the
light reposes in a bird sanctuary, a restful and quiet place to enjoy Nature, both
maritime and avian.
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Closer to my original home on Long Island, New
York, the Fire Island Light stands on the barrier beach that separates the
Great South Bay from the Atlantic Ocean.
For four generations this lighthouse has been an important landmark for
my family, and we went to visit it every summer with the children and their
grandparents. After church on Sunday,
May 29, 1994, the light tower stood up brightly in the strong southern
sun. A beautiful place to gaze seaward
and contemplate the majesty of Creation.
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Finally, at the easternmost end of Long Island
stands the Montauk Light in Montauk Point State Park. The family waded in the surf of the great
Atlantic in front of the lighthouse on Monday, August 11, 1997. Another outstanding location to enjoy the
unparalleled beauty of the sea and sky.
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