Larry and the Lighthouse

Never underestimate the power of a handwritten note.

I have been obsessed with this lighthouse that sits off I-55 on private property on Lake Springfield since we moved here. I wanted to take pictures of Elle in one of her pretty dresses, so I looked up the owner and wrote him a letter. Written on my personal stationary, the letter requested access to his property to take photos of my daughter. My words of reassurance that I had business liability insurance and free photos in exchange for access along with the added sweet treat of a Starbucks gift card. I really loved this lighthouse and was hopeful.

Larry Michaud called me upon receipt of my letter. He doesn’t always grant access, but allowed me to visit and give me a tour.

Nestled at the end of Bay Ridge Rd, I drove my minivan down past the barricade that is normally up to keep curious people like me out. I was greeted by a rugged older gentleman who was busy working on his garden on property. He had soft eyes and leather skin. I extended my handshake as a true Texan would. I was clothed in a pink sundress as the weather finally allowed this Spring necessity. Cicadas had infested his lakefront property and the sound was deafening. Elle was terrified. She clung to me and I had to carry her. Larry offered to carry my camera bag as we walked towards the lighthouse. He gave me a tour of the grounds and inside the lighthouse that normally stays locked. Inside smelled of old cedar and dampness. It was small and charming decorated in nautical theme. I signed his guestbook and he showed me pictures of him helping build the structure. A much younger man was in the photos. Proud and beaming. I enjoy storytellers as told by older men that remind me of my grandfather. I like listening and engaging in conversation of the history so proudly told. I liked Larry immediately.

At 83, Larry is a retired economist for the State of Illinois. No children. His cell phone is under is nephew’s plan, so when we initially met, I called him John as that was on the caller ID. My mistake and I was mortified that called him the wrong name. He was married previously, but wasn’t anymore and on “Good terms”, he stated. I was intrigued how a man who seemed so gentle and kind was recently divorced at his age. My thoughts are always more inquisitive and intrusive, but I kept that to myself.

We climbed the stairs to the top called the ventilator although no light existed. Just a small wrap around balcony with the most breathtaking views of the lake. Elle wasn’t a fan of heights or the bugs. A wasp, cobwebs, and constant buzzing of cicadas filled the air. We weren’t at the top long and I carried her down the steep steps in my sandals careful not to fall. After the small talk pleasantries were over, I was left to do what I came for, take photographs.

I am a photographer that loves color. My style can best be described as bold and emotional. I was ecstatic that the sky was perfect this late afternoon. Bright blue skies and fluffy clouds that allowed enough sun for optimal light. I am more comfortable in studio as I like to control my light perfectly. Being outside and messing with settings while under the gun as my three year old cried because of bugs. I was stressing. Not golden hour, so the bright sun rippled through the clouds right above us requiring constant adjustments. Elle normally a perfectly posed model would not let me leave her to back up. Those cicadas were now on her dress and I had to squeamishly remove without her knowing and causing a panic. Bribes of candy and ice cream to just smile briefly were not acknowledged. I gave her space as Larry, still watching me work offered to pose for a few candids of himself in front of his masterpiece. The lighthouse tilts slightly, so no my horizon lines aren’t off, it really does tilt!

The distance photos taken of this gentle, rugged man who was all of a sudden wary of his work clothes and tried to cover the holes in his jeans. I insisted it was apart of the charm and to put one hand in his pocket. I was quick still unsure if I was doing this magnificent place justice and what if I was the last one to take his photo at the age of 83? Why does imposter syndrome always hit at the most inappropriate moment/ thought?

I knew I wanted some of these to be black and white. Photography is such a creative outlet for me. There’s so much more than clicking a shutter. The skill is in the setup and the art is in the editing. Should I do an editing video? Sort of a “Watch me cook?”

Back out of my head. I turned to Elle to try again. No dice. I looked through and every pic looked out of focus. I hoped for just one good one. Larry asked if I was done with him so he could retreat back to his garden work. He assured me I was welcome back since Elle was not cooperating. I would never impose like that again even if the offer was genuine. I took a deep breath of fresh air in and loaded up my camera bag and carried her back to the car, cicadas still buzzing in my ear. The silence of my minivan was a welcome relief. I glanced over at Larry digging in his flower beds by the lake. He didn’t see my wave, too busy focusing on his task.

Today felt like such a gift.

Always write the letter, you never know if the answer will be yes.

Until our next adventure…

XOXO, Ash