September 27, 2026
By Arthur H.Gunther III
In the theatre, “a ghost light” is left glowing in a protective cage, center stage, in part for safety so that arriving hands don’t stumble into the orchestra pit, etc. But it also provides illumination for the spirits who have performed on the boards or otherwise were part of “show business like no business we know. …” (So it is said.)
In my home, wherever that’s been, the first illumination has always been a 7-watt night light in the hallway so that the little ones, when there were such, could begin daily wander in safety. In fact, providing a receptacle outlet was the first electrical job I have always done in a house.
“Tradition, tradition,” as the stage character Tevye shouts in the opening song of “Fiddler on the Roof,” is part of everyday life: Custom, a familiar road so you don’t get lost in the fog that inevitably develops.
Many would say the torch held by Lady Liberty in New York Harbor is a stage light. Certainly it has long been for the millions of immigrants who have set foot upon the stage of a new land, wondering what their roles might be.
That particular light is now surrounded by the ghosts of millions wondering whether the theatre that is America will go dark. Guess that depends on the upcoming midterms.
Have no stage fright, good voters, though sinister folk may try to pull the plug on the metaphorical lights at the polls. Too many ghosts in this American Experiment have stood firm, died and been wounded protecting the founders’ illumination.
The writer is a retired newspaperman.
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