For many years I served as volunteer co-leader of the International Dark-Sky Association. I remember certain conversations in my fight against light pollution, some less positive than others.

My very first request for help, after my name was up on the IDA’s website, came from a concerned citizen in Virginia Beach. A new hotel was to be built on the beach, and he was concerned that they might not use shielded lights. I called a representative of the city, in the planning department, and asked if there were any ordinances against light pollution, explaining the issue. There was a moment of silence. Then, in a voice dripping with sarcasm, the woman answered. She said, “That is absurd. Why would anyone care?” I spent a few moments explaining to her why she should care, and why the wildlife of the beach would care.

Some of the most intrusive blinding lights came from prisons. A new “security” light was installed at a prison near my in laws’ farm. My mother in law told me she called to tell them that the new light was shining in their bedroom window, and they lived several miles away. The prison representative asked her, “Would you rather have prisoners escaping?”

Our local fire department, just down the hill from us, installed a lighted sign. They did not get county approval, and it did not meet outdoor lighting standards. When I called to tell them that their sign was lighting up our bedrooms on the second floor on that side of the house, the response was, in a tone of entitlement, “We come in late at night, and we need the light.”

Out in the wilds of Powhatan State Park one night, I was showing a group of girls the night sky. I was trying to get their attention to show them how to look for the brighter stars to use as pointers, so they could find their way around the night sky. I had little success until the group’s leader shoved a green laser pointer in my hand. Later she told me glowingly that that got their attention! Yes, but that was missing the point.

An old couple in Amelia County called me and co-leader Laura Greenleaf. They had lived across a large field from a church for decades. The church decided to install “security” lights on the building, and had them aimed out at right angles. One shone in the couple’s bedroom at night. We visited the Board of Supervisors, and had many conversations with them about these lights. The old gentleman would preface his emails to us with, “Calling all Lauras!” At one point he saw a man up on a ladder cleaning the gutters and went over to explain the lighting issue. “No problem!” said the gutter cleaner, and with a screw driver turned the light down so it shone on the ground. The next night someone had moved the light back out at right angles.

Another time I received a call from a woman who lived near a field where a newcomer had decided to park his over the road truck, when not in use. He installed a dusk to dawn glare bomb to “protect” it. The woman was furious because it unnecessarily lit up her house and yard all night. She said she had been sprinkling seeds all over the truck so the birds would leave their calling cards.

The latest issue has been with the Science Museum of Virginia in Richmond. They have proudly installed a Green in place of a parking lot, with native plants. The Green is adorned with many glare bombs that shine all night. They have utterly and completely refused to consider shielding them and have refused to consider they have done something wrong. They remind me of Galileo’s clerics, who looking through his telescope at Jupiter’s moons, pretended they didn’t see them.

The good news is that now people are aware of the harm that lights on the beach do to feeding fish and hatching turtles. The fire department was required by the county to turn off the sign at a certain hour, or lose the sign because it was not up to code. Prisons now are replacing security lights with fully shielded lights, understanding that lights shining in one’s eyes do not increase safety. Laser pointers are in use (I can’t win every battle!) but people are warned of the dangers of blinding pilots. Eventually the church in Amelia shielded its lights. When the angry woman went over to talk in friendly fashion to the truck driver, he said he hadn’t understood what he was doing, or why, and removed the light. And I don’t have to visit the Science Museum until they make the green space really green, by either removing, turning off, or fully shielding the lights.

I would like to end these remembrances with a poem that expressed my feelings when I first saw the monstrosity the fire department was installing, with apologies for language.

As I walk the lane

between mad and sane

What pushes one over the edge?

The beautiful night

with the owls about,

Your damned light shines through my hedge