Dream So Real

In a dream I was gathered with my family in a pleasant room in a nursing home, amber walls with flowers on the table. We were resigned that there was nothing left to do there and were comforting our Mother while my Father stood off to the side, wearing his signature newbuck jacket and favorite beret, looking at the doorway, ready to go home.

In reality my Father was my hero and role model. He taught me to be confident in myself and respectful of others while always maintaining a positive outlook on life. As a father he would never micro-manage, but would simply instill seeds for us to grow, to let us each blossom on our own.

When I was 5 or 6, he must have sensed my interest in bicycles. One of my fondest early memories was when he’d plop me on the on the handlebars of our English Cruiser and ride me around our block. I remember the rush of wind when we screamed down The Big Hill. Inspired by this shared experience, I took off my training wheels and soon set The Record for riding around the block at maybe 33, but I fear an obsessive 100 laps.

Always a man of action, Dad had the uncommon sense for doing the right thing. I witnessed this as an eight year old while traveling with family in a foreign country. A woman had been involved in an accident and lay bloodied in the street. Without hesitating, Dad rushed to the scene to tender aid. In grade school I wanted to be a doctor like Dad, but my obsession with drawing and building models indicated a different track, which he unflinchingly supported. While I would not be saving lives, through architecture I strive to uplift people within their environment.

My Mother and Father had a wonderful 60-year marriage based on love and respect for each other and commitment to family. Now that I am about to be a father, I am starting to realize even more deeply his influence. My wife and I deeply wished that he would have had the chance to see our unborn son, but in our son we hope to see some of Dad.