If Glass Walls Could Talk - Page 3

But once you got inside, the lines, light, and colors exposing an assortment of geometric shapes won you over. It was like standing inside a 3-D version of a Mondrian painting.

On any given day, I could glide off the sidewalk in our cul-de-sac, through the front door, and into the safe haven of my home's center. The heart of the Eichler was not the fireplace, nor the kitchen, but rather the airy, open atrium that the rest of the home revolved around.

Plants like birds-of-paradise and tropical ferns thrived there. It was also a central patio area for families to gather, cats to roll in the sun, and greenery to create a lush tropical oasis.

Summer barbeques were held at the picnic table in our atrium; and special moments, like a heart-stopping view of the moonwalk, were observed through my father's telescope from this open-air space.

In the '60s, homes and showrooms featured lean, low sofas and womb-shaped chairs. The classic curve of Eames-style chairs, originally created by the husband-and-wife team of Charles and Ray Eames, was introduced in the 1950s and became even more popular in the swinging '60s.

Imagine, those plastic, curved chairs on which I sat to drink my cherry-red Kool-Aid and orange Tang were on their way to becoming the 'chair of the century.' They were the same chairs my mother sat on while twisting that curly kitchen phone cord in her fingers as she chatted away with Joyce about the next get together, the abundance of cherries on the backyard trees, and the recent moon landing.

I honor our Eichler, whose four orange Eames chairs sat at the kitchen table in a burst of color that matched the front door, well coordinated like a pantsuit from J.C. Penney or Sears.

It was a new sort of life, a new era, and a new day reflected in the abundant walls of a glass house. Our glass house.

• For more mid-century amusement, visit Carol Sveilich's Facebook page: 'Mid-Century Modern Mayhem.' She can be reached at [email protected]

Photography: courtesy the Carol Sveilich archive