A Tale of Two Lighthouses

Graves light takes a pounding from the sea at the entrance to Boston Harbor's deep water channel


Graves Light: Boston Harbor’s Outer Sentinel

Lighthouses have always been the quiet guardians of the coast — part warning, part welcome, standing where the sea turns unpredictable. In my last post, Boston Light played the role of the harbor’s warm lantern, guiding ships safely home. Just a few miles away, though, another tower tells a very different story. Graves Light, perched on a scatter of ledges at the edge of the deep‑water channel, wasn’t named for sailors’ graves at all, but for Rear Admiral Thomas Graves, an early Massachusetts figure. Its job has always been the opposite of Boston Light’s: not to beckon ships inward, but to warn them away from danger.


A Lighthouse Built for the Hard Work

Completed in 1905, Graves Light is the tallest lighthouse in Boston Harbor and by far the most exposed. Its granite blocks were quarried in Rockport and pinned into the ledge like a stone corkscrew — because anything less would have been torn apart by the Atlantic. This tower wasn’t built for charm. It was built to take a beating.

And it still does.

 


Still Active — Even in Private Hands

In 2013, Graves Light made headlines when it was sold at auction for $933,888, becoming one of the most expensive lighthouse sales in U.S. history. The new owners restored the tower itself — floors, windows, dock, solar power — but the light and fog signal remain federal property.

The U.S. Coast Guard still operates:

  • the modern beacon
  • the fog horn
  • the official charted signal: Fl (2) W 12s

So yes, Graves Light is still an active aid to navigation, even though the building is privately owned. The tower belongs to people; the warning still belongs to the sea.


Two Lights, Two Jobs

Graves Light and Boston Light sit on opposite sides of the deep‑water channel — only about 3.5 miles apart, but doing completely different work.

  • Graves Light stands on the outer edge, flashing its stern warning:
    “Danger here — avoid the ledges.”
  • Boston Light waits farther in, offering the softer message:
    “Safe water ahead — welcome to the harbor.”

Mariners once treated them as a sequence: clear the danger, then follow the welcome home.

Boston Light and Graves Light, two guardians of Boston harbor


The Zoo Ship Wreck of 1938

One of the strangest events tied to Graves Light came in 1938, when the steamer City of Salisbury ran aground near the ledges in thick fog. Its cargo?
A traveling zoo shipment — monkeys, parrots, pythons, cobras, and other exotic animals.

Most survived, and newspapers gleefully reported “snakes loose in Boston Harbor.” Graves Light has seen its share of storms, but that day it witnessed a circus.


A Hollywood Cameo

Graves Light even had a moment on the silver screen. It appears in the storm sequence of the 1948 film Portrait of Jennie, where the tower is cast as a brooding, windswept sentinel. Even if you’ve never seen the movie, it’s a fun bit of trivia — one of the few times this rugged lighthouse slipped into Hollywood’s imagination.

 


A Sentinel You Can Still See Today

If you take one of the harbor or lighthouse cruises, you’re almost guaranteed to see both Boston Light and Graves Light in a single sweep of the horizon. Coming out from the harbor, you first pass the civilized silhouette of Boston Light, with its keeper’s house and outbuildings tucked neatly on Little Brewster Island. And just beyond it, rising straight from the gray Atlantic, stands Graves Light — taller, starker, and far more ominous. One welcomes you in; the other warns you away. Seen together, they tell the whole story of Boston Harbor in two towers.


 

Boston Light: Still Standing, Still Shining

Located on Little Brewster Island, Boston Light: America’s Oldest Lighthouse is Still on Duty

 


Oh What a Light

(A little wink to the 1960s classic “Oh, What a Night”)

Boston Light is like an old war hero — weathered, stubborn, and full of stories it never quite shares. It has guarded the entrance to Boston Harbor for more than three centuries, and those stones have seen everything from calm seas to cannon fire.

Built in 1716, Boston Light is the oldest continually used lighthouse in the United States. Its history reaches straight back to the Revolutionary War.

The first tower stood about 60 feet high and was made from rough island stones. Workers stacked unshaped rubblestone into a tapering tower and held it together with early mortar. It wasn’t fancy, but it worked.

That original lighthouse didn’t survive the war. In 1776, British forces retreated from Boston Harbor and set explosives that destroyed the tower. (Those darn Redcoats!)  Boston rebuilt quickly. By 1783, the Commonwealth raised a new lighthouse using the island’s rubblestone once again. This version had thick 7.5‑foot walls and reached 75 feet into the air.

In 1859, the tower needed more height to hold a massive 4,000‑pound Fresnel lens. Builders added another 14 feet, giving the lighthouse the profile we recognize today.


The Modern Boston Light

Boston Light glows bright while Graves Light keeps its quiet watch beyond

The lighthouse on Little Brewster Island blends the 1783 rebuild with the 1859 expansion. It rises 89 feet (102 feet above sea level) and still contains the old rubblestone core, now reinforced with brick. Only the bottom 9 to 14 feet include stones from the original 1716 tower, but that small section connects the modern beacon to its earliest days.

Not bad for a lighthouse that once relied on candlelight.

Today, Boston Light is a National Historic Landmark. By law, it remains permanently manned, even with modern automation. The island isn’t open to the public, but several harbor cruises pass close enough for great views.

At night, the beam reaches 27 miles into the Atlantic. After 300 years, it still calls sailors home.

 

The Great Chowder Divide

Clam laden New England Chowder with it's cream base sets the stage for this culinary debate

Cream vs. Tomato, and the Day Massachusetts Nearly Legislated Soup

Let me start with a confession:
I don’t actually like clams.

There, I said it. Full transparency.
I’ll happily eat around them, enjoy the broth, dip the crackers, and savor the moment — but the clams themselves? They can stay in the bowl and live their best life without me.

And yet… here I am writing about chowder. Because chowder isn’t just about clams. It’s about identity, tradition, and one of the most passionate food debates New England has ever cooked up.

And yes — it was almost illegal to put tomatoes in it.


The 1939 Chowder Crisis: A Massachusetts Original

It didn’t come from rumor or restaurant gossip.
No whispered “my cousin’s friend swears this happened” stories.
This moment lives in the official records of the Massachusetts legislature.

In 1939, Representative Cleveland Sleeper of Rockport, Massachusetts introduced a bill to ban tomatoes from clam chowder. He believed the integrity of New England chowder was under threat, and he was ready to defend it with the full force of government.

Sleeper even staged a chowder cook‑off to prove his point:

  • One pot of classic, cream‑based New England chowder
  • One pot of tomato‑based Manhattan chowder

The cream version won — of course it did — and the bill quietly faded away. But the message was loud and clear:

In Massachusetts, chowder is white. Full stop.


New England Clam Chowder: The Creamy Classic

This is the chowder that tastes like home, even if you don’t like clams. It’s the bowl you want on a cold day when the wind is coming off the water sideways.

What makes it unmistakably New England:

  • A rich, creamy broth
  • Potatoes, onions, and clams
  • Salt pork or bacon for depth
  • Oyster crackers bobbing like tiny buoys

It’s cozy. There’s a familiar nostalgia to it. It’s the culinary equivalent of a wool sweater and a nor’easter warning.

 


Manhattan Clam Chowder: The Tomato Rebel

Then there’s the red one.

Manhattan chowder swaps cream for tomatoes, creating a broth that’s bright, tangy, and a little bold. It’s lighter, more vegetable‑forward, and honestly? Pretty delicious — even if you have to whisper that in certain Massachusetts zip codes.

What defines it:

  • Tomato‑based broth
  • Carrots, celery, herbs
  • A lighter, almost Mediterranean feel
  • Clams that stand out instead of hiding in cream

It’s not trying to be New England chowder. It’s doing its own thing — and doing it well.


So Which One Wins?

Here’s the truth, clam‑skeptic though I may be:

They’re both good — just in different ways.

  • New England chowder is for comfort, cold days, and tradition.
  • Manhattan chowder is for brightness, lightness, and a little rebellion.

It’s like comparing a snowstorm to a sunny day. Both have their place — though only one requires you to shovel your driveway.


Final Ladleful: You Be the Judge

I may not love clams, but I do love a good food debate — and chowder brings out the best of them. Whether you’re Team Cream, Team Tomato, or Team “I’ll just take the crackers,” chowder tells a story worth sharing.

Now it’s your turn:

Which chowder do you swear by?
Creamy New England?
Tomato‑bright Manhattan?
Or do you have a family version that breaks all the rules?

Drop your thoughts, opinions, and observations — I can’t wait to hear where you land in the Great Chowder Divide.

 

Are Aliens Really Coming For Us?

A disc‑shaped UFO with glowing blue lights hovers in a dark, starry sky, casting a bright beam onto the mist below.


UFOs on Dusty Roads: From Roswell to the Berkshires

The Western Stories We All Know

I don’t know about you, but when I think of Aliens and UFOs, my mind goes straight to the wide‑open western states. It all started with the Roswell incident in 1947 in New Mexico. Then came the Socorro sighting in 1964 — the one many consider the keystone case because of the credibility of the witness. Police officer Lonnie Zamora described an egg‑shaped craft and two small beings, and his steady demeanor has kept that story alive for decades.

Even now, so much UFO lore clings to the Southwest. When I visited Sedona, I heard plenty of stories. I didn’t see anything myself, but the talk was everywhere. And of course, we have the popularity of The Secret of Skinwalker Ranch and the two‑part Destination X deep dive into the high strangeness of the Uintah Basin.

New England’s Surprising UFO Legacy

But New England has its own UFO history — and it’s a lot richer than people realize.

Probably the most famous case is the 1961 abduction of Betty and Barney Hill. Imagine my surprise when I came across the sign marking the location of their encounter just outside Lincoln, New Hampshire.

Massachusetts has more than its share of sightings too, especially in the Bridgewater Triangle and the Freetown State Forest. But even I was caught off guard when I learned about the Berkshire UFO incident in 1969 in Sheffield, MA. This wasn’t just a sighting — it was an abduction.

The Berkshire Encounter That Shocked Massachusetts

On the night of September 1, 1969, Thom Reed and his family were driving across the Upper Sheffield Covered Bridge when a brilliant light filled the sky. The Reeds later said the light felt focused on them, and their next memories were disjointed: being taken from their car, finding themselves inside a huge hangar‑like space, and experiencing strange sensations and lost time. The details were hazy, but the family was eventually back in their station wagon, unharmed and with no explanation for the missing minutes.

A Monument to the Unexplained

The account gained so much traction locally that the Great Barrington Historical Society formally recognized the Reed family’s experience as part of the region’s historical record. In 2015, Sheffield even opened the Thom Reed UFO Monument Park at the site, complete with plaques — including one donated by the team behind Ancient Aliens — commemorating the event.

Sightings Close to Home

And the sightings haven’t stopped. As recently as 2025, reports have come in from Taunton, North Attleboro, Avon, Sudbury, and Pembroke. Massachusetts has logged more than 2,000 UFO sightings overall.

So… Are We Alone Out Here?

So… do you believe in aliens?

As I’ve gotten older, my feelings have definitely shifted. I went from a dedicated Trekkie who loved the idea of boldly going where no one had gone before… to a slightly more nervous observer. These days, I find myself leaning toward Stephen Hawking’s view: intelligent life almost certainly exists somewhere out there — but maybe we shouldn’t be in a rush to make contact. After all, first contact didn’t work out so well for the Native Americans when Columbus arrived in the New World.

What do you think — are we alone out here on these dusty roads, or not?

Haunted Highways: A Spring Drive Into Massachusetts’ Spookiest Road

North of Boston, in the quiet town of Billerica, sits Dudley Road — a lonely, rural road with a reputation that makes even seasoned travelers check their door locks and crank up their headlights.

🌬️When the Weather Warms and the Roads Call

The warm weather is finally starting to tease us out of our homes. Give it just a few more degrees and we’ll all be cruising the highways and byways with the windows down, letting that first real breath of spring drift through the car before summer heat and humidity chase us back into the air‑conditioning.

And honestly? This is the perfect time of year for a haunting adventure.

A Quick Detour Through the Bridgewater Triangle

Pukwudgie of the Bridgewater Triangle

I’ve told you before about the spooky Bridgewater Triangle in southeastern Massachusetts — a region so paranormally active it’s been featured on multiple TV shows. Drive those back roads at night and your imagination will have a field day. It’s the ideal setting for a spooky interlude.

But recently, I learned about another haunted stretch of pavement… one that’s a bit farther north.

Dudley Road: The Most Haunted Road in Massachusetts

North of Boston, in the quiet town of Billerica, sits Dudley Road — a lonely, rural road with a reputation that makes even seasoned travelers check their door locks and crank up their headlights.

The story begins with the Daughters of St. Paul, who established a convent along this road. According to legend, several nuns were suspected of practicing witchcraft in the early 19th century. And we all know how Massachusetts has historically handled accusations of witchcraft. Just ask the folks in Salem and Danvers.

The Legend of the Condemned Nuns

Following in those old Puritan footsteps, the unfortunate women were condemned without a trial and hanged from a tree along the road. When they learned their fate, the nuns supposedly tried to escape by running across a nearby field — but they never made it.

As if ghostly nuns weren’t eerie enough, the legend goes on to claim that a nearby house where the women practiced their “magic” sank into the ground up to its second‑story windows. Travelers say that if you drive past at night, you might hear disembodied voices or smell strange, unexplainable odors drifting from the area around the so‑called sunken house.

Myth, Illusion, or Something More?

No proof exists for any of these tales — not the witchcraft, not the hangings, not the supernatural house. In fact, the “sunken” appearance is just an optical illusion.

But facts don’t seem to matter much here. Dudley Road has held onto its reputation as the most haunted road in Massachusetts, and locals still whisper about what they’ve seen and heard after dark.

Ready for a Spooky Spring Drive?

If you’re up for an eerie adventure, take a slow cruise down this sleepy rural road in Billerica. You might catch a glimpse of a full‑bodied apparition… or hear the distant screams of the fleeing nuns carried on the spring breeze.