1898 at the Lighthouse - When Dreams Are Calling

Joseph watched whole tree trunks with roots attached bobbing in the churning sea.

He saw the wind-driven waves tossing them so they landed in tangled piles on the sandy beach below the lighthouse. 

"Later we can gather wood, dry it, and use it for the fires in the warming stoves," he thought.

Joseph's knitted cap, layered under another hat, protected his head from the windy rain squalls when they blew in from the ocean.

"I'm still glad we came here," he thought. "I love living by the sea."

The gusts chilled his face. He put his hands in his pockets to warm them. The sounds of the waves crashing and the winds combined into a roar.

"It is really blowing and even the seagulls are sheltering today," he thought. At his side, a black puppy scampered playfully, and Joseph smiled. He clapped his hands and the puppy leaped up with eyes sparkling.

"Good dog, you bring us smiles and laughter every day," Joseph said to the prancing dog, who was inviting him to play.

"Yes, Teddybear, your Elsie will be done with school in a while, and then you can play together," he said.

Joseph knew his daughter was at the one-room schoolhouse now with his wife and the students.

His gray eyes scanned the ocean and horizon. Joseph saw the high tide and gale force winds were driving the waves higher and faster. The ocean surged up over the beach and flooded into the lighthouse keepers’ winter garden crops. 

“This is going to be a tough storm,” he thought. “I need to check on the livestock next to the creek back in the valley.”

He saw the ocean pushing the creek level higher where they connected and saw the water rushing inland over the rocks.

Joseph felt a sense of wonder. 

Despite the challenges of living on the stormy Oregon coast, he was glad he had followed his vision and brought his wife and children from Austin, Texas to this green, rainy wilderness.

The lighthouse was isolated, although they had two other assistant lighthouse keepers and their families for company. There was also a scattering of homesteaders who rode over to visit or sent their children to the one-room schoolhouse.

The rest of his family had been against it. 

Joseph knew they thought he might fail to survive away from the family ranch. 

It was not easy. But they were succeeding.

Joseph knew his wife and children were enjoying their new lives next to the ocean.

“Oh, no," he thought, seeing the ocean surge even further inland. "The salt water is going to spoil those crops. We’ll need to plant farther back from the beach next time.”

Joseph felt the wind pushing him. He strode toward the flat area between the towering bluffs on each side.

“Good, the livestock are sheltering against the cliff around the turn,” he said to himself. “The fence is holding up fine too.”

Joseph turned and gazed at the 60 foot tall lighthouse tower sitting on the 200 foot tall bluff above the ocean. He knew the assistant lighthouse keeper was cleaning soot off the glass Fresnel lens now.

Tomorrow it would be Joseph's turn to have this shift. When night approached, the lighthouse keepers would light the wicks to start the beacon flashing. 

Part of the job was also servicing the clocklike mechanism that rotated the huge lens at a special speed, so the flashes were timed. 

Ships' crews and captains knew the individual rotation flash timing for each lighthouse along the coast. 

They could identify their ship’s location by knowing the specific beacon’s flash timing.

Like a code, each lighthouse was different. The flashing beacons reassured the navigators who plotted the ships' courses.

**********

High on his green mountainside homestead Shawn Terry turned and looked at his growing farm. He turned to the west and looked across forested foothills, small lakes shining, and the portions of rocky or sandy shores to the ocean stretching to the horizon.

"Tis hard work building my homestead, but I love it here," he thought, drawing in a deep breath.

The weathered buildings looked rough and rugged. His winter crops, growing on plateaus in the mountains, looked ragged but they were struggling through the season of heavy rains.

"But tis my own, and I built it myself," Shawn thought.

“Aye, tis a good thing I am a dreamer, though my father said it was a vice,” he thought, and his eyes twinkled.  

“But he was right about a few things too,” Shawn thought, picturing the stern, unsmiling face of his father at the farm in Minnesota.

Shawn remembered the day he decided to move to the west coast. Due to the Homestead Act, he could get a large tract of low-cost land.

To become the long-term owner the government required him to fulfill certain requirements. Shawn had met those requirements by building a residence, sheds and barns, and by growing agricultural crops for the length of time required.

Now he owned a tract of emerald green mountain, forest and meadow land overlooking the ocean.

In Minnesota Shawn yearned to live close to the sea and to live in a more temperate climate. He wanted to be finished with the heavy snow and live where he could grow crops year round.

He glanced at the rough-hewn buildings and the agricultural crops growing on the mountain meadows of his Oregon Homestead farm.

A creek ran down from the mountaintops. Breaking into many streams, so they always had fresh water for the family and crops. He sighed, feeling thankful.

“I know my Da lived through such hard times it pushed all the dreaming clear out of ‘em. He couldn’t help it, bein’ so grim all the time.”

Shawn's imagination supplied him with a vision of his father living in Ireland during the potato famine of 1849.

Then he saw his father and mother crowded into the belly of the ship crossing the ocean. Landing in America with almost nothing, his father and mother worked through the hard times while they built a new life.

"They had a dream and pursued it," thought Shawn. "So my Da knew about following a dream. Yet he wanted me to stay put and follow his path, not my own. But I am not my Da."

“Come on, now, you two,” he said, waving his arm to the black and white herding dogs watching him for directions. 

“Ruff and Woof, come.”

The two shaggy dogs smiled and ran to him with their bodies low to the ground, fluffy tails wagging and streaming behind them, dark eyes like bright buttons.

He reached down and ruffled their hair while they jumped and cavorted.

“Goooood dogs, you rascals,” he crooned to them.

Shawn saw the grey sky and the clouds heavy with moisture approaching. 

“Eileen,” he said to his daughter, “tis a powerful storm comin’. I’ll take the horse and fetch Timothy and Sarah from the school. No need for ‘em to walk home when the wind and rain hits.” 

His rust colored beard and hair flew in the wind and his tall, strong frame strode with large steps. Eileen, his oldest daughter, had stayed home from school to help Mary with canning.

He knew the winding trail down the steep mountainside to the one-room school house would be slippery. 

“Mary,” he said to his wife. “I’ll take the kerosine lanterns. It is going to be slow goin’ and we won’t be back until after dark.”

Dark hair parted in the middle and pulled back into a bun, Mary’s eyes met her husband’s and she nodded. In a shared glance, they both connected, and small facial expressions ran fleetingly between them with their well-known signals.

“You be careful, Shawn,” she said.

"I will, dear," he said.

Woof and Ruff settled themselves on the porch of the rough cabin that Shawn had built with his own hands with wood from the surrounding forest.

“I’ll take Smokey and Blaze,” Shawn said. “The kids can ride double.”

Mary put on a heavy coat and scarf, and stomped over to the corral and barn in her boots. She caught Blaze and began putting his bridal on. 

Blaze looked at her with wide, calm eyes. Mary ran a hand down Blaze’s chestnut neck and scrawny mane. 

“You’re a good one,” she said. “Bring my children home safe now.”

**********

The creek ran faster through the afternoon, fed by the rising tide where it met the ocean and by the light but steady rain.

Elsie's head was bent over the open book on her desk. She wore a long skirt and a tan apron from shoulders to ankles. Two long braids rested on her shoulders.

"The wind is gusting hard today," she thought, looking out the window of the one room schoolhouse. "I wonder what Teddybear is doing now. He's probably with Father." She missed having the playful puppy next to her.

Elsie looked up when she heard her mother's voice.

“Edward,” said Jeanie, standing by the blackboard, “Please add more wood to the fire, before we do our reading and stories today.”

“Yes, mam,” Edward said to his mother.

“I’ll get more from the woodshed,” said Samuel, his brother.

“Bring your chairs and gather around,” said Jeanie, gesturing with one arm toward the wood fired Franklin warming stove, where flames rose from the logs. “Bring your books.”

Jeanie looked out the window toward the distant lighthouse on the bluff. 

“So different here from Austin, Texas,” she thought. “The family and neighbors were so surprised when we left the ranch. I’m so glad we did I love it here.”

 Twelve students sat in a semi-circle around the black iron stove that sat inside the fireplace with its open flames dancing.

“We’re going to read first from the poem “Travels of a Dreamer,” by Maria Vallendez,” said Jeanie. “Who wants to go first?”

“Me, please,” said Sofia, waving her hand. 

At 13 years old, she was one of the bookworms of the class. While her father did his assistant lighthouse keeper duties, he sometimes left her on the ground floor of the tower.

Then he climbed the spiral steps and did the early evening wick lighting upstairs in the lantern room. Downstairs on the ground floor Sofia browsed the traveling library books by the warming stove there.

Now Sofia stood up proudly while the group sat around the glowing fire in the stove.

“Travels of a Dreamer

A dreamer roamed,

With spirit soaring,

Ideas and thoughts,

Full of exploring.

Dreams and fantasies,

Like clouds in the sky,

Soaring above,

Where the seagulls fly.

But Dreamer was called,

Back to the ground,

Looking up at those dreams,

Floating free and unbound.

Practicality reigned,

With logical days,

But a spark ignited

In the Dreamer’s haze.

Wisdom and balance,

Wove something new,

Rising again,

 Dreamer’s heart flew.

Ideas like flowers,

Thoughts singing their songs,

Flying again,

Where Dreamer belongs.”

When Sofia finished Jeanie thought about her old life on the ranch outside Austin, Texas. "I'm so glad Joseph and I are dreamers."

After a silent pause, Jeanie said, “Class, what does this poem mean to you? What was the author trying to say?”

She thought of the dreams she had in Austin, Texas, that she shared with her husband. Jeanie was so glad they had answered the calls of their dreams. 

“To deny them would have crushed our spirits,” she thought.

**********

Shawn Terry swayed in the saddle while he rode Smokey and led Blaze down the zig zagging path on the steep mountain from his farm on the plateau at the top.

“Aye, tis a beautiful day and a beautiful life here, even in this weather,” he thought. “And I am so grateful to our Creator for all this goodness.”

Smokey knew the trail well, and he calmly stepped over the ruts, rounded the corners, and dodged tree limbs. “I’m in good hands with this horse,” thought Shawn, and he stroked the big horse’s neck.

“Life is good now,” he thought. “This area has abundant food. The ocean, rivers, creeks and lakes provide well. Fish and seafish. The forest has herbs, mushrooms, and wild edibles. The hunting is good. And the garden and livestock. We’re eating real good here.”

Shawn remembered the last time he saw his father. “Stop yer dreamin’ and grow up.” He could still picture his father’s angry face. “You’ll never amount to anything.”

Scenes of the years he lived while he tried to please his father arose in Shawn’s mind. “Each day was another dull nightmare,” Shawn thought. “Finally a day came when I broke down and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

He pictured fleeing from the family farm.

 “I don’t understand what made my Pa so grim,” he thought. “It must have been somethin’ from livin’ in the potato famine in Ireland. He said it was awful crowded in that boat comin’ over I know he had nothing to start with. He and Ma barely survived but they got through that. Took a lot of grit.”

When they lived with Shawn’s parents and Mary’s family, Shawn and Mary shared the vision of a place of their own, an adventure, something they would create on the pioneer land of the far away west coast.

When Shawn got to the one-room school house he tied the horses in the lean to shed and pushed his way against the wind to the door.

“Whew, that wind darn near took the door right outa my hands,” he said, entering the schoolhouse.

“I brought Blaze so you two can ride double to go back to the farm,” he said to Timothy and Sarah. 

Shawn sat down on a spare stool near the wood-burning Franklin warming stove. “That fire sure feels good. But we’ll need to leave in not too long.”

“Look, Da, we just read this poem,” Sarah said. She held the book over his lap. 

“Well, isn’t that somethin’ honey,” Shawn said.

“Here, read it,” said Sarah. “I love this.”

“Ok, my lassie,” Shawn said in his good-natured way.

Before he could start the door opened and Joseph entered the schoolhouse.

“It’s brewing up a real storm, Jeanie. I came to take you and the kids back to the house,” he said, and he sat on another spare stool near the warm flames in the stove.

“Thank you, Joseph. We’ll be ready in a moment,” said Jeanie.

Sarah said, “Da, I want to read this poem to you about Dreamers.”

While Shawn, Joseph and the rest of the group sat gathered around the fire, Sarah’s lilting voice read the poem like she was singing.

When she finished there was a hush and they sat quietly thinking about their dreams.

The gale outside began to howl but inside the room was quiet and cozy.

Shawn and Joseph looked at each other in wonder, each realizing the other was there because he had dreams too.

The group looked into the fire and each person saw visions of their dreams for the future, dancing in the wavering fire. They felt warmed by the fire.

But they felt even more warmed by the glow of their dreams calling to them.