Darkness and the Season of Lights

The holiday season is officially in full swing!  As many of you know, tonight is the fifth night of Hanukkah.  I’d like to say shalom to all of my Jewish friends who are kindling the lights on the menorah this week.  Christmas is still a couple of weeks off, but I’ve seen a lot of lovely light shows on the houses around Reston as I drive home in the evenings.  And last month, we had the Hindu holiday Diwali, which is also known as the “Festival of Lights.”  Talk about making the season bright!

I found myself wondering why so many holidays during this time of year, across many religious traditions, are associated with light.  I suspect part of the reason is seasonal; with the sun setting so early in the wintertime, anything that brings a little respite from the darkness is welcome.  But I think there may be another reason: light, with its brightness and warmth, is associated with community. 

Wherever people gather in numbers, there has always been light.  Whether it’s the glow of a campfire, the candles in the windows of a colonial inn, or the neon glow of a big city, you can be sure that when you see lights, you will not be alone.  Light is a symbol of the unity and togetherness that comes with community.

I’ve always enjoyed lights.  One of my favorite things about this time of year is checking out the Christmas displays that light up the night.  And I share with my daughter Leslie (who turns 12 on Friday – happy birthday, honey!) a love of neon lights; we cherish the sight of neon displays whenever we see them.  I enjoy the warmth, brightness, and color that lights provide.

Of course, even a light fan like me can agree that it’s possible to carry things too far.  When it’s too bright outside your bedroom window to sleep at night, that’s no fun.  Anyone who’s ever been to a casino can attest that the cacophony of light and sound can be fun, but it can also be disorienting and exhausting after a while.  In cities, there’s the issue of “light pollution,” the way that a city’s nighttime brightness can wash out the stars in the sky.  Light is great, but darkness also has its place.

Living in Reston gives me lots of opportunities to think about light and dark.  Reston is famous (or notorious) for having fewer streetlights than many suburbs.  My friends who visit Reston often comment on how dark it is at night.  For those who enjoy stargazing, this is a plus.  (My dad has mentioned this as one of the things he’s always liked about Reston.)  But for those who walk around at night, it can also feel unsafe.  These dueling perspectives help fuel the perpetual debate over whether to add more lights to RA’s paths.

The light vs. dark issue also comes into play when considering Reston’s future development.  As a place becomes denser and more urban, it also tends to be brighter at night.  Restaurants and shops stay open later, and office buildings cast a 24-hour glow through their windows.  When I was a kid, from certain vantage points in Reston you could see the glow of Washington in the night sky.  That’s no longer the case; Reston and the surrounding areas have grown up and now cast their own glow.  Again, this has its ups and downs based on your perspective; we now have better restaurants and more nightlife, but at the cost of more traffic and less serenity.

The view out of my childhood bedroom window provided a small-scale view of Reston’s growth.  When I was little, I could look out at night and see near-perfect darkness; a few house lights here and there, but that was about it.  Then Plaza America came along, and the red glow of the Michaels sign became my nightlight.  (During this time of year, the lights strung around the edges of the shops provided some nice visual variety.)  Then when I was in high school, the Sallie Mae building was constructed, practically in our backyard.  This changed the view dramatically, and for a few weeks after it came along, the lights shining through my window disturbed my sleep.  I adjusted in time, but I gained a new appreciation for the nighttime darkness in Reston.

The development around the Silver Line stations will likely bring more tall buildings and a more urban character to Reston, which means we’re only going to get brighter.  I’m all right with that, but I certainly hope we’ll be able to preserve some darker spots within Reston.

During my documentary interview last week, I was asked whether I preferred Reston Town Center or Lake Anne Plaza.  In my answer, I referenced this issue of light and dark.  When I had dinner in Reston with an old friend a few months ago, we visited both the Town Center and Lake Anne.  And one of the biggest differences between the places is light.  Town Center at night is bright and colorful, noisy and crowded, teeming with action and electricity.  Lake Anne at night is darker, quieter, sparsely populated, serene and peaceful.

I told the interviewer that in the end, I’m a Lake Anne guy.  And despite my love of light, I am.  I like peace and quiet, a place where I can walk and think and not be disturbed.  I’m glad we have the Town Center, and I look forward to seeing the development that will come in around the Metro stations.  But Reston wouldn’t be Reston if we became a 24-hour, always-on, bright-lit place.  So during this season of brightness, my holiday wish is that we’ll always keep a little darkness in Reston.