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Abstract

roll forward a few weeks and I received a blue letter with a hand-written address. I could barely contain my excitement as I tore open the envelope. It contained six whole pages of writing, addressing the questions that I asked and explaining about life in a lighthouse. He also sent me a photo of the lighthouse he worked in and had circled the window where he was sitting as he wrote to me.</p><p id="5219">I was completely captivated. His letter told how he maintained the lighthouse and how he coped with life out at sea for weeks at a time. He explained to me that loneliness is a state of mind and that the only times he felt truly alone was when he missed people back at home. He described how writing was a source of comfort and connection for him.</p><p id="5aeb">Over the next few weeks we exchanged several more letters. Then something happened, I can’t remember what. For some reason we stopped writing to each other.</p><p id="b1ea">My childhood was a very complicated one — something that I am not going to go into here as it would distract from the message of this story, but I was not able to keep hold of my childhood possessions and so the letters are lost. Worse than that, I’ve forgotten my lighthouse keeper’s name but I feel sure that it is stored somewhere in the recesses of my brain and if I was to hear it again my memory would come rushing back.</p><p id="6791">Sadly, apart from some key points, I’ve also forgotten a lot of the content of the letters. I would love to look at them now with my adult eyes but it will never happen. Maybe imagining what he wrote is more powerful anyway.</p><h2 id="6a7f">What did my lighthouse keeper teach me?</h2><p id="89d4">So, what did this whole experience teach me? My lighthouse keeper (that is how I like to remember him) taught me that it only takes one small gesture of kindness to transform a troubled young life. With that simple act of writing me those letters he showed me that I was important. It was worth enough for a stranger to spend their time writing to me. Unknown to him, this was very different to the messages that I had been receiving throughout the rest of my short life.</p><p id="e7e8">He taught me about the power of words. How even if we cannot make contact with someone directly, we can reach out to them and touch their souls. He showed me how writing can be both therapeutic to ourselves and of value to others. I hope that one day my own written words can bring as much comfort to someone as his did to me.</p><p id="b599">He taught me that loneliness can be calmed by connection of any type. Loneliness is not caused by the act of being alone, it is caused by feeling alone, which are two completely different things. You can feel lonely as a child in a crowded classroom with 29 other children and you can feel content with being alone, far out at sea in a lighthouse.</p><h2 id="8932">My plea for your help</h2><p id="d142">I would love to track down my lighthouse keeper, or at least find out who he was.</p><p id="5498">If you know how I could find out who the lighthouse keepers were on Bis

Options

hop Rock in the Isles of Scilly in the early to mid 1980s, or have any ideas about how I can find out, please let me know. I have made contact with other lighthouse keepers from the time, who incidentally all seem to share a common wisdom and compassion towards the lonely. However, none of them have been able to help. I contacted Trinity House but received no response.</p><p id="6721">My last hope is reaching out to strangers who might have some other ideas and this is where I am asking for your help. It is a long shot, I know. But even if I don’t get my answers, I have now shared my story and in some small way immortalised my lighthouse keeper in words.</p><p id="1d5e">I know, deep down, that he is possibly no longer with us. Many years have passed and I get the feeling that he was advancing in years when he wrote. If he is gone, at least I will have put a name to my childhood hero. The person who reached into my loneliness and showed me that I mattered. The person who sparked my passion for writing and gave me faith in humanity.</p><p id="f2bf">He showed me the way and I would love to be able to thank him in some small way for the light that he shined into my darkness.</p><p id="84b2">More from the same author:</p><div id="3573" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/the-guilty-secrets-of-an-introvert-6c80184069d3"> <div> <div> <h2>The Guilty Secrets Of An Introvert</h2> <div><h3>Embarrassing confessions from a socially awkward individual</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*CnFIBnNYGiTweFeA)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="ac8f" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/how-preparing-to-die-has-helped-me-in-life-766a225842cf"> <div> <div> <h2>How Preparing To Die Has Helped Me In Life</h2> <div><h3>And how my legacy has helped me to be a better person today</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*1gkzVsZMEjnKUnJdSJVofg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><div id="d65d" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/why-are-some-writers-on-here-so-entitled-7066bdd73297"> <div> <div> <h2>Why Are Some Writers On Here So Entitled?</h2> <div><h3>Stop acting like a spoiled child, no-one owes you anything.</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*DDTmMst0N4Af78bW)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div></article></body>

I Was Saved By A Lighthouse Keeper I’ve Never Met

Three lessons he taught me and a plea for help to find him

This is a rather personal story. I am reaching out to my readers to help me find clues about someone who saved me many years ago and continues to inspire me through life, even though I’ve never met him. In return for my self-indulgent request for your help, I am going to share the lessons that he taught me in the hope that they will also be relevant to you too.

So, let’s start at the beginning…

When I was at primary school, probably aged about 9, we were allowed to pick our own topics to research during afternoon lessons. I was a lonely young soul and I decided that I wanted to research jobs where people might feel lonely. I reasoned that an adult who was dealing with these emotions might be able to offer me guidance about how to deal with them myself. It turns out that I was right, but not quite in the way I expected.

Anyway, I didn’t know where to start addressing a letter to a lighthouse. I didn’t consult my teacher about it and these were the days before the internet made such things easy to research. In my innocence, I addressed the letter:

A Lighthouse Keeper In a lighthouse Out at sea

I posted the letter on the way home from school and forgot about it. I can’t remember if I truly expected this letter to reach its destination but I can still remember my surprise when I got a reply.

My first response was not from a lighthouse keeper. To this day, I can recall the excitement as I opened the letter. No-one had ever written me a letter of my own before. In fact, no-one had ever really bothered with me.

The letter was from Trinity House — the organisation in the UK that maintains British lighthouses. The letter explained that they had received my letter and would find someone to respond to me. They sent me a pack of information about lighthouses and said to wait for a few weeks.

Writing this now, I recognise that this is a triumph in human compassion. It was not just one person who made this profound experience in my life possible, but several. Somewhere along the line, a nameless person at the postal service made the decision not to ditch my letter but to go that extra mile to find it a reader. After that, someone at Trinity House decided that they would make the effort to ensure that they found someone appropriate to respond. As a child, I didn’t realise it but as an adult I now recognise that at least three people went out of their way to help me.

Anyway, roll forward a few weeks and I received a blue letter with a hand-written address. I could barely contain my excitement as I tore open the envelope. It contained six whole pages of writing, addressing the questions that I asked and explaining about life in a lighthouse. He also sent me a photo of the lighthouse he worked in and had circled the window where he was sitting as he wrote to me.

I was completely captivated. His letter told how he maintained the lighthouse and how he coped with life out at sea for weeks at a time. He explained to me that loneliness is a state of mind and that the only times he felt truly alone was when he missed people back at home. He described how writing was a source of comfort and connection for him.

Over the next few weeks we exchanged several more letters. Then something happened, I can’t remember what. For some reason we stopped writing to each other.

My childhood was a very complicated one — something that I am not going to go into here as it would distract from the message of this story, but I was not able to keep hold of my childhood possessions and so the letters are lost. Worse than that, I’ve forgotten my lighthouse keeper’s name but I feel sure that it is stored somewhere in the recesses of my brain and if I was to hear it again my memory would come rushing back.

Sadly, apart from some key points, I’ve also forgotten a lot of the content of the letters. I would love to look at them now with my adult eyes but it will never happen. Maybe imagining what he wrote is more powerful anyway.

What did my lighthouse keeper teach me?

So, what did this whole experience teach me? My lighthouse keeper (that is how I like to remember him) taught me that it only takes one small gesture of kindness to transform a troubled young life. With that simple act of writing me those letters he showed me that I was important. It was worth enough for a stranger to spend their time writing to me. Unknown to him, this was very different to the messages that I had been receiving throughout the rest of my short life.

He taught me about the power of words. How even if we cannot make contact with someone directly, we can reach out to them and touch their souls. He showed me how writing can be both therapeutic to ourselves and of value to others. I hope that one day my own written words can bring as much comfort to someone as his did to me.

He taught me that loneliness can be calmed by connection of any type. Loneliness is not caused by the act of being alone, it is caused by feeling alone, which are two completely different things. You can feel lonely as a child in a crowded classroom with 29 other children and you can feel content with being alone, far out at sea in a lighthouse.

My plea for your help

I would love to track down my lighthouse keeper, or at least find out who he was.

If you know how I could find out who the lighthouse keepers were on Bishop Rock in the Isles of Scilly in the early to mid 1980s, or have any ideas about how I can find out, please let me know. I have made contact with other lighthouse keepers from the time, who incidentally all seem to share a common wisdom and compassion towards the lonely. However, none of them have been able to help. I contacted Trinity House but received no response.

My last hope is reaching out to strangers who might have some other ideas and this is where I am asking for your help. It is a long shot, I know. But even if I don’t get my answers, I have now shared my story and in some small way immortalised my lighthouse keeper in words.

I know, deep down, that he is possibly no longer with us. Many years have passed and I get the feeling that he was advancing in years when he wrote. If he is gone, at least I will have put a name to my childhood hero. The person who reached into my loneliness and showed me that I mattered. The person who sparked my passion for writing and gave me faith in humanity.

He showed me the way and I would love to be able to thank him in some small way for the light that he shined into my darkness.