As an architect, I'm qualified to design buildings and to review proposed designs in an effort to provide guidance / adherence to a plan's feasibility (both aesthetically & functionally). In summary, my training puts me in a position of authority regarding building design. Pure & simple.
Currently, my income doesn't come from architecting, though I am still using my training on a voluntary basis. Within our Reservoir 'hood, I serve the homeowners' association board as "Architectural Review" committee chairman. This affords me the privilege of adjudicating R & R and new planned construction (which is rare) within prior to it commencing.
Last year, one such adjudication request came my way. Hence, my fellow committee members and I paid a visit to the homeowner in order to review, on site, some color samples relative to an ongoing home rebuild (that had sustained fire / smoke damage +/-3 months prior). After politely scheduling a date / time, it was apparent that the mid-30s man obviously lived alone, having no doubt recently divorced, and as such, was overseeing the reconstruction remotely during the tail end of the pandemic. He was very cooperative with the review procedures, and thankful even for our time / input (versus seeing it as a burdensome nuisance).
Post adjudication, we turned to leave, and from there, he insisted we circle back once the restoration / renovation was complete in order to have a grand tour of the finished product.
And I made a mental note to do so.
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Yesterday afternoon, (3/27), I knocked on my neighbor's door whilst admiring the gleaming newness of his home's recently renovated exterior. He answered with a slightly surprised countenance (it had been 6-9 months since our previous juncture). I told him I'd stopped by a few times before, only to find no one home. And there was some truth to that. For I had walked down to his cul-de-sac once, only to see his full-size pickup absent from his driveway.
As I stepped inside, I was not surprised to find that his renovated home was over-the-top Chip and Joanna Gaines' farmhouse chic (as it seems everything within the Southeast is these days). Hence, it was current to the nth degree, looking perfectly ready for its Magnolia photo shoot.
At the same time though, there was a sadness there. For he'd made an overabundance of "to hell with it" design moves that were no doubt rebelliously enacted (to the chagrin of Joanna). Those consisted of both the "Deer head wall mount wall" and the full-size billiards table (where the dining room table should have been). Not to mention the gargantuan flat screen TV mounted on the rear of the freshly painted garage (it was his extra one!?!).
I didn't want to linger as he showed me around (I even got to see the massive luxury shower within the master bath). Overstaying my welcome is one hiccup I work hard to avoid.
We shook hands, and I headed out for my weekend run, ready to take advantage of the glorious Spring weather.
As a coda though, I did send him a text message later on that evening, feeling obliged to apologize for not remembering his name during our time together earlier that day. We both laughed about getting older, etc. before I thanked him again via the magic of my pocket computer.
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As I lay in bed last night, I kept remembering the underlying sadness that I'd surprisingly encountered during my afternoon walkthrough. That dark emotion that simply hadn't been renovated out of that structure.
It was a sadness that was rooted in loss and shame. Regret and defeat. For this guy was / is military. Built like a tank. With the shaved head and everything. He's exponentially masculine. Hence, the sadness was no doubt well-hidden underneath his gladiator-ness facade, yet it was definitely there.
So what do I do in response to my concern? How might I overcome the intimidation factor long enough to get to know him better (in hopes of becoming / gaining a friend)?
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During the February regional Samson Society retreat, every man shared prepared-in-advance stories of both harm and blessing. The latter for me was centered on a cherished experience I had in high school. Afterwards, my old friend & former Silas, made a statement that is still resonating with Rob. And that statement was centered on how he truly saw me versus how I saw myself (the void). As a result, I felt like I'd been hit by a bolt of lightning in spite of the insulating factors brought on by the group setting (+/-15 men in the room).
Essentially, he directly affirmed my masculinity via his understanding of who I am / have always been within his eyes.
Even as I write this, I can easily circuit into that emotional surge, still lingering within my psyche.
What a blessing via the influence of old, old friendships!
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Here's to my attempts to circle back successfully - one more time - in order to minister to a neighbor that I'm assuming is in need of friendship.
Man, I hope my pool-playing skills quickly resurface. For as you all know, deer hunting is most definitely not my thing.
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