I stop for Lighthouses.

It’s an homage to my mother and a strangely appealing step in the mourning process.  More importantly, it has shed some light into the dark recessess of a wandering soul, specifically revealing the metaphor “I am a lighthouse.”

There’s a certain lore surrounding Lighthouses:  the remote tower of strength, lighting the way, directing boats through perilous waters, and guiding the lost through the storm.  And then there’s the mythos of the lonely lighthouse keeper, cut off from the world, faithful to a greater cause than self. Through my lighthouse journeys these past few months, I have found myself relating to this image more than I would like, and yet less troubled by the notion with the passing of time.  I can appreciate the ironies

My journey home from Baltimore sent me along the eastern coast, where many lighthouses remain as both historical monuments and functional forms of navigation.

Naturally, I stopped.

It’s not uncommon to find a lighthouse on a military base.  As the lighthouse protects the seafaring traveler from dangers and hazards so they may find safe passage, the military guards that same harbor to prevent dangers from passing the borders.  My stop at the Cape Henry Lighthouse brought me to the gates of the Fort Story Army base.

Now, I’ve been on military bases before so I was prepared for the usual protocols.  Unfortunately I forgot the most important rule: Don’t do anything until they tell you.

They search your car at the gate.  I was prepared and ready…and moved too soon.  I opened my door while the soldier was still looking at my paperwork. He went for his gun.

What???

I froze, of course.  I must have looked like a deer facing the headlights because he smiled, though he remained tense and alert.

“I moved too soon,” I said the obvious.

“You’ve done this before.” He speaks the obvious too.  “Generally you’re not supposed to get out the car until I tell you.  I need to ascertain if you’re a danger.”

I can understand that, but now I’m nervous.  When I’m nervous I go for humor or sass.  With a good-looking soldier, I go for both apparently.

“Did you want to search me?”

He stared at me blankly.

“I figured,” I instantly responded.  “I’m generally not that lucky.”

He grinned.

“I’m here to see the lighthouse.” See, I am capable of regaining my composure.

“You’ve been on base before?” He asked.

“Not on this one,” I answered.  “I’ve been on other bases so I understood the process – thought I’d get out of the car and move things along.  Good to know my moves bring out the guns.”

He laughed.  It was a real laugh from deep within that transformed the hardened features of this very disciplined soldier.

“I’m going to let you get out of the car,” he said, and instructed me to open all of the car doors, the hatch and the hood.  I followed instructions well.

“You can close them,” he said from behind me. What? I only just finished!

“You already checked me out?”

“Oh, yes,” he grinned.  “I followed your every move.”

Now I laughed.  He was cute.  What was I here for again?

He gave me directions to the lighthouse explaining I shouldn’t go beyond the flashing lights.

“If you pass them, you’ve gone too far and you’ll enter a restricted area,” he leaned toward me.  “Then I will have to search you and put you in the brig.”

“You say the nicest things,” I teased, dramatically fluttering my eye lashes.

He grinned.  “And you have made my day.”

Traffic was building up behind me, so I couldn’t stay.  It was a sad moment for me.  But I pushed forward and found the lighthouse.  Only, there were two of them!

The original was manned by the historical society. It was made of aquia creek sandstone, the same bricks that make up the White House.  A little history revealed the top of the lighthouse was blown off during a hurricane in the 1950s.  It was rebuilt and in 1964 became a historical preservation landmark.  I walked the spiral staircase to the top of the 90 foot structure and enjoyed the view.  Specifically the shore and the new lighthouse across the way.

The new lighthouse is cast iron and wrought iron construction, and stands 157 feet tall.  It is an active lighthouse, fully automated and not open for public tours.  It does make for beautiful photos, especially from the adjacent memorial garden leading up to the beach.

The restrictions of the base is limiting for tourists – it’s not as if you can hang out on the beach and enjoy water sports – but this is an enjoyable short excursion in Virginia Beach. For lighthouse enthusiasts or history buffs, it’s a must see.  For others, it’s a nice detour if you’re bored.  For single women or gay men, it’s anticlimactic after the gate search.

As I left, I waved to the soldier.

“You didn’t pass the flashing lights,” he called out. “I’m impressed.”

“We could always pretend I did,” I said.  “Your brig or mine?”

I may not be a lighthouse after all.