For years I had a dream of owning a lighthouse, and raising my family on some peaceful little island, learning along with my children about the light's history, and the sea. I would jokingly tell my wife and friends that "someday I'm going to buy a lighthouse, leave all the noise behind, and live a good and peaceful life."

Well, one day I came home form work (after a stressful day of grind) and my wife showed me a story in Yankee Magazine about a lighthouse that was for sale in Maine, Blue Hill Light Station. We both read the article over and over every time getting more excited. I thought, "What bank could I rob to get that much money? Could I win the Lottery?" If I sold everything I owned, I could probably come up with the down payment, but how would I pay for the rest? OK-back to reality. Then she said, "Let's go see it." I had to stop for a moment and think. "Cement the driveway? Or--Take a real vacation?" Off to Maine we go. Four people in a pickup truck. (Our best vehicle.)

We drove up and down the coast of Maine and searched out every lighthouse we could find. The towns and scenery were mystical. So much beauty, the shops, the people, we were in love. We ate more lobster in two weeks then we've eaten in our lifetime. My kids (Carey 4 and Nick 10) were even getting hooked on the lighthouses.

Now we were close, Blue Hill Bay, no one seemed to know where the lightstation was. We finally stopped at the Coast Guard station and a "home boy" (that was his quote) brought us up to the main control room (which had a fresnel lens on display) to meet his commander who in turn showed us the way. We drove and drove, still no lighthouse yet.-Then, a sign that read "Blue Hill Bay Blueberry Festival." We're close!!!! Onward we go. There to the left, an open field, and there it was, the island and the lightstation off in the distance. I stopped the truck, grabbed my camera and click, click, click. Then came the silent stare. It felt like I stared for hours. "We've got to get closer." So back and forth we drove looking for a lane or street which would bring us closer to the lighthouse. Nothing. Finally Debbie (my wife, I'm Joe) said, "Turn in this driveway. It's got to be close." I really didn't like to invade someone's privacy but we were bound and determined to get a closer look.

I remember getting this funny feeling as we turned up the drive. At the end of the drive were nautical decorative corner markings, Uh-Oh, that feeling's getting stronger and then I stopped the truck. Straight ahead of me was a house (like the one described in the article) and a jeep with the license plate, "EDITH." We both looked at each other, stopped in astonishment, (the owners' names were Edith and Wilbur Trapp) then slowly we looked back. There a short distance from a long pier was what we had searched for, Blue Hill Bay Lightstation. After staring for what seemed like eternity, Debbie went to the door, knocked, and sure enough it was Edith Trapp. She explained that the station had just been sold and that she was in a meeting tying up the loose ends. Edith was very nice and gave Deb a book they had made up on the lightstation and permission to walk out on the pier to take pictures.

I remember staring at the island and visualizing my kids searching for shells while I polished the lens, and Deb walked through the island's grass, and the passing ships-Well, back to reality.

What a sad feeling as we left. No one said a word as we drove back to the motel.

Oh well, maybe someday our dream will come true. (Now it seems there are four people bitten now), but until then, when things get too stressful, I pick up the book on Blue Hill Bay Lighthouse, look at the pictures, and imagine the peaceful solitude on Blue Hill Bay.