Playing Favorites

I do not get asked this question much anymore but early on in my architectural education, whenever someone would hear that I was studying architecture, they would invariably ask me who my “favorite” architect was. This dreaded question was frequently followed by “You must love Frank Lloyd Wright.” No matter who asked me, I always admitted that, though I did appreciate Wright’s work, I could not count him as my favorite. At the time I was on a Mies van der Rohe kick so I would generally go into a discussion of Mies and his brilliant contribution to the legacy of Modern architecture. This response usually left a puzzled and somewhat disappointed look on my questioners face: they had never heard of this Mies character, and how could I not love Frank Lloyd Wright!

The first Mies building that I ever visited in person was the Seagram Building in New York City. In fact, my first visit to the Seagram Building played a role in my love story with Kim. I like to joke that the day we saw the Seagram Building together was the day I knew that she really loved me.

Let me explain.

Kim and I met at church camp after our junior year of high school. We made fast friends that summer but returned to our respective high schools in neighboring districts for our senior year. After not speaking for several months, we got back in touch in December and started dating during the spring before graduation. Since we had each already decided where we would be going to college before we started dating, we were faced very quickly with the prospect of a long-distance relationship: I would be in Atlanta—Kim would be near Philadelphia.

The way the Seagram story sticks in my memory is this: during the summer between high school and college, Kim and I took a day trip from our homes in Pennsylvania to New York City. Honestly, I do not remember many details about that day except for the weather and the Seagram Building. By the time we were preparing to leave the City, the day had gotten gray and rainy, but I had wanted to see the Seagram Building and Kim agreed that we should walk to see it before returning home.

So there we were, in a new relationship, facing the inevitable long-distances that would separate us during college, walking arm-in-arm under one umbrella along block after gray block of wet city to reach a glass-clad skyscraper designed by a dead German-American architect who was by no means a household name and that most people would not give a second glance. We arrived to the Seagram Building for the first time together, but the important thing is not that I remember the building but the walk in the rain with the wonderful woman who would several years later become my wife.

Sometimes we do strange or even silly things for those that we love just because we love them. I know that at the time, before she learned to better appreciate my eye for Modern architecture, visiting the Seagram Building in the rain was one of those moments for Kim. I continue to be astounded by all the silly but selfless things she does for me to make me happy.

We left for college that fall. We became fond patrons of instant messaging and AirTran’s discount fares between Atlanta and Philadelphia. We were married four years later, a week after graduation, and we left for Yale and New Haven only a few months after that. We celebrated 10 years together in March and our 6th anniversary in May.