Several mornings a week now, I meet a friend to walk the loop around my new neighborhood, an early stroll through pristine morning potential lined with the ambitious brick homes of another age. I could never afford to live in these tidy Colonial Revival dwellings that once housed the military commanders of an army fort, but I can certainly enjoy their orderly charm from afar, and smell the trimmed rose bushes lined up in professionally landscaped gardens around the parade grounds.
Even though what remains of the historic site is privately owned, you can’t help but pick up on the efficiency of design and careful planning, the straight lines and perfect alignment of buildings. I was never attracted to a life in the military, but I’ve always admired a soldier’s ability to carry his or her entire world in a duffel bag while traversing the globe. I’m developing a new artistic appreciation of the rows of barracks and service buildings where many managed to work, sleep and eat while possessing very little of their own. Ironically, in many cases these structures are being refurbished to store the excesses of modern civilian life.
Back along the promenade, those fancy officers quarters were often connected into early versions of duplexes, attached but facing away from each other for a little privacy inside their broad porches, the spirit of cooperation and teamwork never far from their personal living rooms. During my foray into apartment living, I’d like to think I’m honoring the military’s lessons of efficiency by residing in close quarters for a change, and sharing common ground with my fellow residents.
As long as I don’t have to rise at the crack of dawn and run laps.