To all of you from Salemeyer & Sons assembled here today, I have a message: As we stand poised on the border of the kitchen and dining area, we dream of a brave new floor plan. Behind me is a wall that, for too long, has divided this great household and prevented the spread of light and airflow from reaching all corners of the western cabinets. Today, I call on all of you to rid this modest two-level home of the scourge of oppressive architecture.
Mr. Contractor, tear down this wall!
If you seek an uninterrupted eye line, if you dream of maximizing floor space while assisting traffic flow, if you dare to envision a kitchen with marble countertops—let us take to the drywall.
You raise your sledgehammer with hesitation, and you are not alone. There are some among us who say my vision is too radical, that the living room and kitchen can never be peacefully unified. There are some among us today who say I should fix the roof and get a new box spring before wasting money on unnecessary remodeling. But to those who oppose the advancement of a modern design scheme, I say only this: “Let them come to my next dinner party.”
History will be made here today by those who stand against ambulatory tyranny and resist the over-compartmentalization of living spaces everywhere. Although I cannot take up a hammer with you or even stick around to watch, I share with you the burning desire for change. Let us fight against the forces of domestic separation. Let us remove this symbol of household oppression. Let us never forget that, as long as this wall is permitted to stand, no man is free to watch the Bruins game while he microwaves a burrito.
This wall must fall!
But before you strike your first blow for spatial liberty, let me assure you, Mr. Contractor, that I have not come here simply to bemoan the state of 7937 Montgomery Circle. Rather, I look forward to a bright and hopeful future. A future founded on the concepts of balance and minimalism. A future without barriers that separate a people from their refrigerator. A future I hope you, Mr. Contractor, will share with me.
And so, in the pursuit of domestic liberty, I stand with you on the brink of a brighter era. I see before us a thousand points of track lighting.
The great people of Salemeyer & Sons have, from the utter ruin of the Belcheckis’ unfurnished basement, built a rec room to rival any in the neighborhood. So that today, by the grace of word-of-mouth advertising, you are free to boast the most skilled men and lowest prices of any contractor in the county.
Realize that it is only with the sacrifice of men who have gone before you that you enjoy such freedom. Let us pause, and remember Max Kirby of Window Wonders, Inc., who journeyed here from halfway across the town to install my screen door after the old one got stuck, giving all citizens of this breezeway convenient and squeak-free passage to the garage. And though, on that dark December morning, his blood was spilled by an errant tack-hammer blow, so shall his memory be etched into the hearts and minds of those he delivered from the cruel brutality of jiggling the handle, and affixed to the refrigerator on the magnet with his phone number that he left behind.
In closing, let me say one last thing. The responsibility of liberty cannot be shouldered by any one man, but must be borne by all who desire to enjoy its benefits. With this in mind, I ask you to reconsider the quote you provided me, which seems outrageously high considering this is going to take you all of one afternoon.
Lest we forget that freedom, in its many forms, is priceless.
