light up one's life

Hugh Frances Hicks collected light bulbs.
Containers that create and contain light.

Screw in.
Switch on.
Turn off.

When speaking of a standard bulb, "exquisite" perhaps might not be the first word that comes to mind. But old doctor Hugh might argue with you that light bulbs were just that: exquisite.

With their sleek shape their careful curves of thin glass --dainty and delicate, yet still able to support a surge strong enough to light up any given space.

Carefully coiled wires strategically slated to orchestrate and conduct a series of symphonies of sight. And aside from their smart craftsmanship and their innovative design, Hugh knew too, that a bulb's ability to spotlight and shine - to make visible the beauty of others - had stirred more souls than the Mona Lisa ever did.

"How can a picture can say a thousand words if it's too dark to see it?" he'd ask.

He had 75,000 in all.
I don't think you need ME to tell you, that's some serious wattage.
They came in all shapes and sizes, all working in wondrous ways - some were simple and ordinaryOthers were quite extraordinary...a few were far from great.

Ten thousand of these bulbs had been cited as "special", symbolic of 79 years of bright ideas that had clicked on up over top of his head. Hugh prided himself as being a man of many ideas. For years he coupled each idea with a bulb that shared a similar sentiment.

A dentist by trade, plenty of these pertained to teeth.
But some were much more personal...

• Like the day he got the idea to propose to Beverly - with that he tucked a bulb from the original torch on the Statue of Liberty - no two women filled him with more pride or passion...
• There was the Frances Fly Trap, a carefully bent paper clip he tactically crafted to keep the zipper on his pants from falling down. With that he stored a bulb from the London Bridge. I see London, I see France...
• There was his "not so bright" idea of testing the strength of duct tape by securing one of his friends to a wall. It seemed like a pretty neat experiment until ole Virgil started to suffocate. Hot dog! Who knew? It is impossible to breathe when swaddled in 92 pieces of duct tape. To that dumb inspiration he attributed a headlamp light liberated from Hitler's limousine.
• Which leads us to bulb #911 -thank heavens he had already invented an emergency hotline. Assistance came quickly and Virgil is still with us today. That bulb belonged to Baltimore County Hospital's first ambulance.

Some were huge, illuminating bulbs that blinded its audience. He tied those to far more fantastical concepts --like the U-Haul Mover's Balloon Bladder, or his Inside/Outside Hangover theory, or Storyboard Scrabble - these were inventions and ideas that people just weren't quick to pick up upon or easily embrace.

"I can't see it," they'd cry.

"Of course you can't see it!" he'd explain. "You're staring straight at it! Not all things work best when so carefully watched. Look at it from another angle and perhaps you can work through those blind spots."

Yes, they brought light to his life and it was collecting these bulbs for 50 years that kept him out of the dark.

And who would have known!

Not me, had I not met his ghost that night in the Post.
It's the closest we came to being acquainted.

While he talked to Tim, I skimmed The Metro section and saw that he had passed:

"Hugh Frances Hicks, Light Bulb Collector. Died May 9, in Baltimore. Age
79, no cause of death was given."

Good night, Knight Light!