Following Your Dreams

Remember when you were growing up, and you had that ‘hippie’ third period English teacher? You could tell he was a hippie because he had a beard and always wore sandals to work, but with socks, because the school administration frowned on teachers wearing sandals without socks. They also frowned on sandals, but I don’t believe it had ever occurred to them to put a ‘no sandals’ article in the teacher’s contracts, so frowning was pretty much all they could do. Anyway, before the English teacher was fired for getting arrested at a No Nukes protest, thus allowing the school board to invoke the ‘moral turpitude’ clause of his contract, he’d have at least one class session a semester where he’d encourage the class to talk about their dreams. Mostly, the boys would talk about how they dreamed of owning a really awesome muscle car, and how their lives would then be complete. Girls would talk about, well I don’t really remember, because all of us guys would be fantasizing about how cool we’d look sitting behind the wheel of a ‘Cuda, or a Trans Am.

Anyway, when I brought this particular subject up recently, the following your dream thing, not the muscle car, Mary pretty much quashed it right in the bud. With extreme prejudice, I might add. I think it’s pretty unfair, that at this point in my life, my own wife won’t support me in my dreams.

My dream, of course, is to own a lighthouse.

A majestic, old-fashioned historic lighthouse, located somewhere on the coast of Maine, or somewhere else New Englandy. I think it’d be grand, and the government has some for sale, really cheap. A real steal, considering you’re talking about historic hundred year old buildings and all! Of course there’s a requirement for the buyer to maintain and repair the structures, which looks a bit challenging when you’re located on a rock surrounded by several miles of water. I’m not sure if Handyman Connection would make a house call. I’m also not sure if they have a lighthouse repairman on staff.

There are a few other drawbacks as well, as Mary pointed out while she was in ruthless dream quashing mode. The nearest Starbuck’s is probably like three or four hours away, minimum, which represents an unconscionable degree of isolation in America today. Kiss delivery Chinese food goodbye. I’d have to learn to drive a boat, and considering my skills, or the lack thereof with standard automotive conveyances, boat captainship would probably entail several all-new disasters. And finally, being dependent on satellite Internet would inevitably result in me going full Jack-Nicolson-in-the-Shining mode, sooner rather than later.

So even though there are actually honest-to-god lighthouses for sale (cheap!) it looks like I’m not going to get to buy one. Maybe I should go and buy a Trans Am instead.


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