Culture No. 11

I took Architectural History in a very dark room very early in the morning. The professor – a man with large, Gollum-esque eyes – would instinctively turn down the lights for the PowerPoint as soon as class began, which (as you can imagine) was probably the worst possible thing he could do to an auditorium of college students at 9 a.m. in the morning. Ipso facto: I slept through a lot of it and am left with only fuzzy impressions of whom I did and didn’t like. Le Corbusier? No thanks. Boullée? Rock on!

But until recently, I didn’t realize I missed out on something else as well. I vaguely remember going over the Georgian style, Federalism, and other periods of American architecture, but apparently I slept through that one topic that would’ve been helpful in my present situation: the architectural anomaly that is Pennsylvaniaism. For your educational enjoyment, here are three facets of local architecture that I’ve yet to understand:

Porch Carpeting

In a recent, informal, systematic survey, I discovered that 9 out of 10 NEPA porches – unfortunately including both of ours – are carpeted. Yes, you read that right: carpet. And not just any carpet! Carpet, in fact, may be a kind misnomer. It’s more like AstroTurf. The gross kind you find at cheap mini golf places. Minus the melting ice cream and plus the unidentifiable/terrifying stains left by previous tenants. That kind of carpet. Lovely, just lovely.

I’m assuming NEPAites use it on their porches to avoid painting or staining or any other sort of maintenance for as long as humanly possible, but it begs the question: how do you keep it clean? The wind doesn’t do it for you. (Tried it.) You can’t sweep it. (Also tried it.) Recently, when the level of dead plant matter on our front porch was mistaken for a compost pile, I resorted to pulling the Dyson outside, but even that was a little iffy. (My fault, not the Dyson’s. The Dyson can do no wrong. I was worried about clogging it.)

And speaking as someone who wears as little footwear as possible all summer long, ancient AstroTurf is pretty much the least pleasant thing possible to walk on. I’ll take splinters from a wood porch any day. Or burning hot pavement. At least then my soles will be scalded clean.

Metal Awnings

When I see a metal awning, I generally think one of two things:

1. “Oh, look! It’s a store!”
2. “Oh, look! Fifty years ago, a builder forgot that the sun exists and tacked on an ugly glob of metal to cover his mistake!”

The majority of metal awnings in NEPA - and there are a lot of them - fall into the latter category, just without the vintage appeal, i.e. metal awnings are still a happenin’ architectural statement here. Unfortunately, I identify them with the Rust Belt cities of my youth where, more often than not, they were hanging on by a mere bolt, just waiting to be pulled off and scrapped. They are house pimples. Big, metal house pimples. And since when is acne a desirable thing? (This is not an opinion I’ve shared with my neighbors. Please help me keep it that way.)

7/52 Decorating

If this were a real architectural history class, we would now start a long, drawn-out, nap-inducing discussion on “Form Follows Function” and why architects should never decorate anything. (Fun Fact: Architects are terrible with color. This is why Bert won’t let me play with his Prismacolors.) Okay. Fine. Whatever. (See? You would fall asleep too!) None of that would fly in PA. Why?

Because people here like to decorate. For everything. And its mother.

Christmas? Of course. Everyone decorates for Christmas. Even I decorate for Christmas. (Minus the blow-up snowmen, of course, because they frighten Mama V.)

Halloween? Oh man. The ‘ween gives the ‘mas a run for its money. Pennsylvanians are serious about the black and orange. Not my taste, but I guess someone has to keep Wal-mart in business before they can roll out the Christmas stuff.

Thanksgiving? If I wasn’t from New England, I would’ve thought Pennsylvanians modeled for Norman Rockwell’s Freedom from Want. Yes, they are that festive, just not that picturesque. (Another Fun Fact: The models were from Vermont. Because according to HBO's John Adams, New Englanders are more American because we started this whole show.)

St. Patrick’s Day? Mother’s Day? Father’ Day? Oh yes, now we're getting more obscure. But the decorations continue. How do you decorate for Mother’s Day, you ask? You rig a projector outside your house and use your siding as a backdrop for ‘motherly’ images, usually of the flowery persuasion, that’s how. Super classy and super creative, I’ll give them that.

Did you stay awake in Architectural History? Can you explain to me what is going on in my neck of the woods?