One day in a second grade class, we kids had to write one of those "what your father does for a living" assignments as a way to practice our lettering. My father was an architect. So, I stated the obvious and added an illustration for extra credit.

Twenty years later, I found the work hanging on the wall at my father's house. When I asked why he held onto the work for so long, he pointed out the humor of imagining Architects falling down if they did not design buildings.

It was funny, because we both knew it was also true. Once you're an Architect, it's difficult being anything else.