Jack's Lighthouse

Follow me back in time, to about two months prior...

weeooooeeeee

At my old apartment in Cincinnati, Ohio, I awaken to the sharp sound of small objects hitting my window. Goddamnit. I slept through my alarm. Or I never set it. Or the battery in my phone died. I don't know. All I know is I've come to absolutely despise the sound of rocks smacking against my window. It is grating in the way only a smoke alarm - set off by my shitty toaster and poor air circulation - can challenge.

Fuck. I wanted to wake up early so I would have time to pack. Instead, I am now in a hurry. I rush out, invite my dad in while I stuff some clothes in a bag to prepare for the trip to my grandparents', where we will pick up an old car they no longer use so that I can take the Buick when I move to Washington. I briefly entertain the idea of packing up my camera, but Daddy-o is clearly pissed I wasn't ready, and I'm going to Tell City. There's nothing particularly fascinating. Once on the road, I regret my decision. I fantasize taking a walk through my grandparents' neighborhood with my camera in tow, just for fun. Oh well. I'll be back some day, I'm sure. I hope.

An uneventful trip follows. Fa la la we are there. The magic of sleep sends time careening out the window my dad never rolls down. God knows why. Fresh air is always more appealing to me than the goddamn air conditioner. Ah. But we're there.

Hi Grandma, hi Grandpa. I am incredibly tired so I am going to hug you hello and go downstairs and take a nap. Ahh, refreshing. It is amazing how little sleep you get sleeping in a moving vehicle. At times, it feels as if it actually drains you further. Ahh.

The night is likewise uneventful. Briefly, once again, I regret my decision to not pack up Charlotte, the DSLR, a Nikon D5000 that (for this one tiny paragraph) I just named.

The following morning: I wake up. McDonald's for breakfast? NO! Yes. The grand'rents love it. I was hoping for some of mamaw's biscuits and gravy. That shit is gooooood. Secretly I am happy for the lack of it because it is even more unhealthy than Mac. I am trying to get in better shape. Shhhh!

Time for lunch. Where are we going? Hmm. This is an interesting place. The food is crummy. I guess Grandpa likes it. Nice view of the river, though. Nice... photographic opportunities. Hah! Oh, there's more, Grandpa?

He wants to show me and Dad the lighthouse. A lighthouse? On... the Ohio River? Really? I... well, okay then.

The short drive begins, and it begins uneventfully. But I'm building up this lighthouse as a great thing in my mind. Not in the way you might think, though. I just want to take pictures of it. Whatever it is. A couple. Not much. But in my mind, it is a great PHOTO OP that again I am missing. Ahhh, why am I such an idiot? I am. That is it. Why ask why?

I am completely unprepared for what lies ahead.

We arrive. Man that thing is tiny. What is it, five foot? (Disclaimer: it is three stories, plus the way-up-there fourth story wherein lies the theoretically present but factually absent light.) Grandpa introduces us to Jack. He's an old man, as is to be expected of all people my grandfather knows as well as he clearly knows Jack. While Jack and Gramps ramble in each other's direction as old men are wont to do, my eyes wander.

The lighthouse has a strange architecture. It is, from the outside, tiny. As already mentioned. Facing the front it looks sort of like this:

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Or something similar. Drawing it would be easier, but I don't have time. It's against a hill, I think? The lighthouse, as pictured, is to the right. There is a squarish building to the left. The bottom floor is the not as large as you might think, as most of that wall there is just solid cement. There is a particularly grand, old door. The only door in the figure, because it is the grandest, and also the door we entered. Balconies are on the left building and at the top of the lighthouse. Behind and above the wall on the far left is a pool sans water. What's it for? No idea.

Jack enters a door on the bottom right, and exits the grand door. (Is grand really an appropriate word for this lighthouse? you might ask. Answer: Probably?) We approach, and I get a closer look at this door. It is straight out of a movie with a medieval castle! Only it is smaller than a medieval castle door would likely be. Or so I imagine in my head that has long been filled with fantasies about living in a medieval fantasy. Medieval. It is also completely homemade.

I spy a mannequin. She is a sailor, garbed in the blue and white of the Navy. Jack has words: "The best part about her is she doesn't talk!" Ahah! Jack, you slay. The mannequin remains silent, as promised, despite the incessant leering. The Nestenes are biding their time. We enter.

First thing I notice: literally the first: this is not a joking matter: there are boobs everywhere. Revealing paintings, bare-breasted faux-(possibly real, but I suspect not)-marble statues, more mannequins than you can shake a stick at - Jack has a thing about the female figure.

But, enough about breasts. There is also a mad scientist behind bars in one corner of the room.

Okay but really there is an almost obscene amount of boobage in this room. Also the ceiling is literally covered in old-style water skis. Or, rather, the water skis are covered by the ceiling. Or, rather, the ceiling is the water skis.

Thus ends our tour of the first room, which I mentally labeled the boob room. (Technically every room is a boob room, but this one doubly so.) Jack regales us with tales I have since forgotten. This saddens me. He was an odd fellow. I have a strange desire to go back one day and just... interview him. Write an article about his life. Get it published in TIME MAGAZINE. I'm only half joking here. Jack fascinates me.

We enter room the second, which is part of the actual lighthouse: boats. The walls are lined with boat memorabilia - those boat wheels that I swear have a name (I am at a loss), literal pieces of boat frames, things from what I believe must be the Captain's quarters, and more. Too, there is a fully constructed boat hanging from the ceiling, which is taller than the first room. Also worth mentioning is another mannequin. Again female, again Navy, again worth mentioning because! Jack chooses not to draw attention to her, for whatever reason, but as I am a literate American, I can read the name tag, upon which is printed several words, including: "semen". Could Jack be so crass? Clearly a typo.

Up the stairs to room three: the diving room. Within are diving helmets of various age and style, as well as a complete old-fashioned style diving suit. Big Daddy would feel at home. In the middle sits a pant-less mannequin (male), smoking a cigar. This one is... probably also Navy?

Next up: pirates in room four! The first thing I see as I reach the final step to this floor is a life-sized female pirate wearing what might as well be a hand towel for a shirt. Her breasts are particularly enormous. Also present: another female mannequin (man alive (well, obviously mannequins aren't alive) he has a lot of mannequins). She is wearing a black and red dress in the style of an old-fashioned bar wench. Would? As I spend more time in Jack's Lighthouse, I find myself becoming increasingly sexually infatuated with the plastic half of our species. Would. To the left of the wench lies a pair of replica blunderbuss pistols. To the left of Big Breasts lies a replica blunderbuss.

The top: the fifth. Lo! The Ohio River, observed for all time by a mannequin in a wedding dress. It is a classy dress. No cleavage. (I remember these things.) Also in this room is a wide assortment of... junk. There is a compass affixed to the insides of a box, as might be seen in old maritime fiction (and non-fiction!). No doubt it has a very specific name.

There is a poster explaining the meaning of many different flags a sailor might hoist.

A red X on a white background. - "I require assistance."
Three horizontal stripes: blue, white, blue. - "I am on fire and have dangerous cargo; keep clear."
Two vertical stripes: yellow, blue. - "I wish to communicate with you."
Two vertical stripes: white, red. - "I have a pilot on board."

A pilot, huh? (I know you are impressed I was able to recall these. Sadly, I cheated, and I am certain the codes on the poster were different, at least in description.)

Then Jack wheels out the most impressive item in his arsenal. It is literally on wheels. It is a giant pair of binoculars. Huge. He says he uses them to look out over the river. He says he got them from an old Navy guy. He says they came from a mother goddamn WWII-era Japanese destroyer. He has the papers to back up this claim. They are in Japanese. I futilely try to read it. Kanji - my greatest enemy. But it looks legit. How would someone amass all of this crap? A fair question, I think. His answer: he buys things on the cheap, every time he finds something that even remotely interests him. A packrat to the extreme, he finds it impossible to throw it away. He has many more boxes full of junk in storage that has long been forgotten, but will one day be discovered again. Many more boxes. He claims.

Outside on the balcony of the top floor, a bee. It is flying around my head. Annoying bzzzzz. Around the back is a winch. The winch was used to pull up the glass doors that protect the inside from Mother Nature. Of note: the walls are stone. Some stones have engravings. The floors are bleachers. They were taken from a high school when said high school threw them out. Jack built this entire structure single-handedly. He claims.

Time for the final room. It is a bar room. A tavern? Tavern sounds more appropriate. It is the sixth. There are more mannequins, there is a hunchback statue in the corner garbed as an executioner might be, there is a TV from a prison (the casing is transparent so the prisoners cannot hide Things), there is a pair of hands in a barred hole above the entrance, there are large metal keys everywhere, there are more faux-marble statues giving it their all to distract me, there are tables, there are chairs, there is a dog (a real dog), there is a wife (a real wife), and there is a huge pile of finished puzzles atop which lies yet another puzzle still being assembled.

From this room, I can look outside to see a few more strange things. The pool sans water. A group of bare-breasted (of course) mermaids sunbathing. Other objects are likewise cemented into the ground.

I sign the guestbook as if I have already moved to Washington. It feels good. We leave. Goodbye, Jack. May we meet again some day, when I haven't foolishly decided to leave my camera behind.