How Could This Happen?

A few days ago, I was having a pleasant dinner with friends when I was asked how I fell into Architecture as a profession.  How people choose what to do in life is a fascinating subject. Sometimes it's very intentional and calculated.  Other times, it's pure serendipity that lands you in an unexpected place.

The question actually gave me pause, since I had rarely been called upon to explain myself with authentic details, as I was that night.  Here's how it goes:

I grew up in northern New Jersey at a time when suburban expansion was overwhelming the many former truck farms of the "Garden" State.  Not necessarily a good thing, but I was too young to influence my parents, much less history.  In any event, home-building was everywhere, and I was a weekend interloper.  Climbing about the unfinished houses, I was fascinated by how things were built; and I wanted to DO that.  So there I was, barely a teenage, saying that I planned to be an Architect.

Doing this on ones own may be possible, but not likely.  In my case, as I look back on it, I had a mentor.  My mechanical drawing teacher saw something in me, I guess.  Before I graduated from high school, he had me designing houses, that I would draw up - sometimes for credit, sometimes for the heck of it.  Mr. Czirr (now there's a name you can't forget - pronounced Sheer) wasn't coercive, just an enabler.  With his encouragement, I had opportunity.  I still have the drafting set he gave me as a graduation gift.

Lately, many have sadly vilified the teaching profession - a movement I must admit I can't find sympathy for.   My dedicated mentor represents all that is worthy about the underpaid, under-appreciated teachers out there.  All this introspection led me to explore what happened to him.  I found information that he is now 108 years old living in the home he retired to shortly after I graduated.  Thank you Mr. Czirr.