A Guiding Light
On a recent vacation to South Carolina my whole world was turned upside down. Some would call it a paradigm shift. Here I was, living my life up North, thinking it would be where my retirement (whenever I get there!) years would be. Spending just one week in the sunny South challenged my way of thinking. My son had told me that I would love South Carolina, and the people were so friendly, but I was not expecting to love it this much and for the people to be this nice! And then I heard the words come out of my mouth, “I could live here.”
That soon became the lens through which I looked at everything. A simple trip to Costco confirmed my belief that this could be the place for me. My daughter wanted to buy some sneakers, and approached a wall of red cardboard boxes, six boxes wide by fourteen boxes high. She tried, Jenga-style, to pull out her size from somewhere in the middle and was successful! The tower of sneakers stood undisturbed until an older gentleman reached next to her and tried to do the same thing.
A commotion ensued as two tall columns of boxes filled with clean white sneakers toppled and fell into the aisle. Then, the strangest thing happened; people came from all over to help. Rather than scatter like rats that see the light (like people in my area would do), this was like mosquitos to a bug zapper. It was comical, yet heartwarming, to see people coming from everywhere to pitch in and help out. One gentleman rolled up in an electric scooter to lend a hand, saying he wished he could have recorded the scene for tic-toc. When I commented how unbelievable it was to see people helping like that, my son said, “Welcome to South Carolina.” I could live here.
And then there were the clouds. It is hard to tell if the bright blue sky made the clouds look so white or if the bright white of the clouds made the sky look so blue. Billowing is the best word to describe the clouds. Layers upon layers of bright-white popcorn with thin edges of gleaming silver filled the sky, but always at the perimeter. The clouds never crossed the sun; it was as if they were purely for decoration, placed at the edges of the sky, like curtains framing a window.
The three days we went to the beach were spectacular. The beaches have solid-packed flour-like sand and are wide, making them appear uncrowded. The waves, gently curling as they reach the shore, soon become background noise, and it gets to the point that you have to look at them to remember they are there. The ritual of applying sunscreen bought in bulk from our trip to Costco, sets the tone for the day. The light smell of coconut mixing with salt spray fills the air, and we know we are somewhere special. I could live here.
I get my first disappointment when I look at the nearby lighthouse. It is totally unremarkable. The bottom half is painted white, and the top half black, usually a favorite color combination but not on this structure. It is triangular and rises one-hundred-forty feet in the air. This lighthouse has a compelling history, but it is not doing it for me.
So, for the first time on this trip, I think there is something better at home. I am blessed to live in a coastal Massachusetts town and am well acquainted with all kinds of lighthouses, a favorite being Nauset Light in Eastham. It is so iconic it graces every bag of Cape Cod Potato Chips. And then there are the triplet East Chop, West Chop (pictured on my blog), and Edgartown Lighthouses of Martha’s Vineyard, painted white with black accents; their beauty is in their simplicity.
My mind wanders, and I wonder why I am attracted to lighthouses. At first glance, it is their extrinsic beauty that I notice. There are so many variations of shapes and colors. Their placement also lends to their beauty. A lighthouse rising above a red-roofed caretaker’s cottage on a green, grassy hill surrounded by a white rail fence is a sight to behold. (Look up Nobska Lighthouse)
In the end, it is their intrinsic beauty I find most attractive. It is not what the lighthouses look like but what they do that matters. A lighthouse’s presence lets a person know about dangers ahead, so be careful. Their purpose is to guide and direct a person to safety. They are a symbol of coming home and a beacon of hope. They are a light in a dark world. This tall triangle starts to grow on me!
Our week continues with many other highlights. We went to a minor league baseball game where Policemen handed out ice cream to the patrons. We took a detour off the highway and walked through fields of sunflowers. We watched sunsets and lightning storms, often on the same night. And we capped off our time with a horse-drawn carriage ride through the City of Charleston. All-in-all, a very good week!
Then it was time to go home. Reluctantly I boarded the plane and said goodbye to my newfound utopia. I realized I liked seeing palm trees sway in the wind. The hot summer temperatures did not affect me. I liked the people of South Carolina - I liked me in South Carolina.
The journey home went by quickly, and as I drove up my street I encountered something new. While I was away, a neighbor erected a four-foot red, white, and blue wooden lighthouse in the corner of his yard. This lighthouse stood as a symbol of return and welcome. It announced I arrived safely at home, and I chuckled as I heard myself think - I could live here.