By Springtime is my favorite season. There is a tangible feeling of renewal. Spring reminds me of blossoming flowers and trees, outdoor activities, allergies, and Easter, to name a few. Lately, however, I’ve been thinking about Easter eggs. Now that our children have left the “nest”, Geri and I don’t color Easter eggs anymore. In a way, it’s a shame we didn’t continue the tradition, because it was so much fun. My memories of coloring Easter eggs go back a long time to when I was a child. My sisters and I would wait anxiously as mom would warm up the water to place in the cups. I recall the pungent smell of vinegar and begging to drop the color tablets in each cup. Slowly, the liquid turned into beautiful ribbons of yellow, red, purple, and green. Mom would give each of us our own wire egg holder and we were given a half dozen hard boiled eggs to dip. All the colors looked fascinating. I liked them all. I watched my two older sisters as they carefully dipped each egg into the color of their choice. They knew what they were doing. Whether dipped in one color or two, their eggs were sensational, the best poultry art I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my sisters’ talent for egg art. I had a brown thumb when it came to coloring Easter eggs. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t resist the temptation to dip my eggs into all those beautiful colors. When completed, it wasn’t hard to distinguish my sisters’ eggs from mine. Their eggs looked like Easter. My eggs looked like rocks!
Once the thrill of the Easter egg hunt was over, all the eggs were banished to the refrigerator to await their deviled fate. After a while, mom would retrieve the bowl of hard-boiled eggs and begin the process of removing the shells. I would watch as mom removed the shells from my sisters’ eggs and then from mine. Then the most interesting thing happened. With the shells off, I couldn’t tell them apart. They all tasted the same amazing, deviled egg delicious taste. I ate more than my fair share, but then, I was the only boy in the family!
Over the past four-plus decades of my career as an architect I have thought a lot about the role our profession plays in creating sustainable environments that stimulate, enrich, and look beyond the outer shell; an environment where who we are inside matters most and treat one another accordingly. That kind of environment would be nothing short of miraculous. However, the unfortunate trend of today is quite the opposite. Hostility toward each other and a lack of trust foments an ever-increasing degree of angst, fear, and social division. The needs of the “I’ tower over the needs of the “WE”, and as a consequence, we all suffer in the global decline.
Architects must play a stronger role in the shaping of sustainable environments and no longer be chained to a dollar driven economy that amplifies the “I” at the expense of the “WE”. Practicing architecture in isolation of all other surrounding elements places more than our environment at risk, but our humanity as well. We are the creators of a higher vision, where man, nature, and community exist in harmony together, a sustainable environment where who we are inside and how we treat others brings a wonderful, fresh sense of renewal. Spring is that wondrous reminder that the cold, stark bleakness of winter is over. Isn’t it high time we focus on the former and allow the latter to slowly melt away?
Who’s with me?
