I’m a fairly logical thinker, a left-brain kind of guy. Maybe that’s why I decided to be an architect. When it comes to making precise designs and detailed sketches, I depend on my rational brain.
But architects have another side too. A creative side. A quirky side, even. What’s life without a little fun? Everybody needs an outlet.
Ask my wife, Robin, and our sons–they’re used to me by now. Back when I first met Robin, I painted her bedroom lilac and her bathroom pink, her favorite colors. I even did some stenciling–my own take on courtship. Robin says that’s when she fell in love with me.
Then as our sons, Alex, Austin and Dain, were growing up, there were plenty of opportunities for creativity. The foam igloos and icebergs for their vacation bible school pageant? Those oversized cakes and candies for the display at high school grad night? All Richard Burrow originals.
A few years ago, though, right around the time my sons went off to college, the economy tanked. At work, the creative projects I loved–custom home and office designs–were suddenly scarce.
I felt inundated by the more routine, cookie-cutter tasks of my profession, like checking for buildingcode violations or evaluating construction claims. I enjoy my work, but where was that spark?
I included something new in my prayers. A plea for a project that would challenge my imagination and renew the passion of my youth. Something, well, quirky.
“Don’t worry,” Robin said. “I’m sure something exciting is on its way.” Robin knew me better than anyone and I suspected I was in her prayers.
New Year’s Day 2011, I tuned in to the Tournament of Roses Parade. I looked forward to it every year. It’s the Super Bowl of parades as far as I’m concerned.
I plopped onto the couch, but the beautiful and colorful floats didn’t relax me at all. Instead, they reminded me of something I’d forgotten. A dream I once had. My dream of having a float I designed in the Rose Parade.
That dream first bloomed back in the 1980s, when I was an architecture student at Cal Poly Pomona. I’d been walking between classes when a bright red flyer on a bulletin board caught my eye. Help design, construct, and decorate the Cal Poly Rose Parade float.
That sounded totally awesome! I went to the meeting and jumped right in.
Each year, the parade has a new theme. That year’s was A Salute to the Volunteer. I imagined a band of animals playing a musical salute: a giraffe on bass, an elephant on sax, a monkey banging the drums. I stayed up late working on sketches and submitted two designs, certain that one would win.
A couple of months later, though, the Cal Poly float club called to say that my ideas had been rejected. I was disappointed, but I tried not to dwell on it. After graduation, I landed a good job at an architecture firm. I got married and started a family. My Rose Parade dream became a lost dream.
Maybe the parade is exactly what I need, I thought now. I remembered how much fun I’d had working on my float designs. So what if they were rejected? Was I going to let that beat me? My left brain and right brain argued for a minute. The right brain won.
That night, I checked online. I still had time to make the late-January submission deadline for the 2012 Cal Poly float. I went to my drafting table and stayed up late exploring possibilities.
How about a fire department made of animals? The firefighters could all be mice, working to get a cat out of trouble. That fit the theme, Just Imagine. My own imagination was on overdrive. I felt like my old self again.
“What are you working on?” Robin asked. “It’s late.”
“Drawing a float for the Rose Parade,” I said.
“Good for you, honey,” she said. She knew I had been involved with the Rose Float club during college. “Maybe that’s the answer to our prayers.”
Our prayers. I knew it. Robin had been praying too. I completed three drawings and submitted them. Months went by. Finally I called the student office. “Check the website,” said a young girl. I logged in, stared at the winning design. Rejected again.
I was devastated, yes, but strangely grateful too. The nights I’d spent on those designs were some of my happiest in years. The work had made me more patient with the less imaginative things I had to do.
Maybe my Rose Parade dream wasn’t just a quirky side project. Maybe it really was an answer to prayer. Lord, I asked, I need your guidance on this one. I don’t think I want to let go yet.
I checked out some other float websites. Cal Poly wasn’t the only game in town. Why not submit elsewhere for next year? I found five groups that interested me. No duplicate drawings allowed. I would need five unique concepts by January.
That gives me 10 months, I thought. If God meant me to, I’d pull it off. It would be a sign. The next morning, I awoke from a vivid dream, grabbed a notebook off my bedside table and started sketching: a telescope with a huge eyeball at the end. What does that mean? I wondered.
For months, inspiration jumped out at me from everywhere–the hose connected to the showerhead, the medieval scene on a billboard I passed on my way to work. At Dain’s wedding, his bride wore an octopus pendant that inspired a sketch.
The more I worked, the more my excitement grew. The left brain and the right were totally in sync now. I had no time to worry about rejection.
I sent in five designs just in time for the deadline. Each sketch had cost me hours of toil. I’d put my heart into them.
The theme, inspired by Dr. Seuss, was Oh, the Places You’ll Go. I didn’t know where my designs would go, but I realized by now that winning wasn’t the most important part. The work was a creative adventure, a reward in itself. A blessing.
One day, I got a message from a number I didn’t recognize. “This is the Burbank Rose Parade committee,” said the voice, “calling about your drawing, ‘Deep Sea Adventures,’ which has been chosen for our 2013 float. We–” I couldn’t listen to the rest. It was really happening! I called Robin immediately.
“I’m so proud of you,” she said. “This is even better than your pink bathroom!”
The next 10 months were a frenzy of excitement. The “Deep Sea Adventures” float would feature my design, a girl piloting a submarine led by seahorses, and a friendly octopus. The telescope and eyeball from my dream turned into the sub’s periscope.
I sent in precise scale drawings of the float, not something every float designer does. (Thank you, left brain!) I exchanged phone calls and e-mails with committee members about mechanical features, the ideal color scheme, and which materials to use on the float.
So many decisions! My favorite detail: The suction cups on the octopus’s tentacles were portobello mushrooms. Every float is composed entirely of organic materials.
On New Year’s Day 2013, my whole family drove to Pasadena to watch the parade. At 8:00 A.M., the floats began to wind their way through the streets. Suddenly, there was our float–the design I’d carried around inside my head all these months, the dream I’d buried within myself all those years.
“Deep Sea Adventures” turned out great. The judges thought so too–Burbank took home the Fantasy Trophy. Robin squeezed my hand.
“Richard,” she said. “It’s…beautiful.”
I knew what she meant, not in my left brain or my right but in my heart. There is beauty in dreams made true and in prayers answered.
Download your FREE ebook, A Prayer for Every Need, by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale.
