As I find myself between milestones - 10 years retired June 30th, creeping up on my 75th birthday in November - I've been taking inventory. What's still here, what's not, what's new. That's the theme of this edition of Notes from the Lab, 123 months into the journey.
Disney (11/1/12, Last Updated 3/25/15: Our family love affair with Walt Disney World resorts has continued to blossom since my last mention in 2015.
First, an update on family activity:
- Number of times a member of the Burk family has checked into a Disney resort - 95.
- Number of days involved with the 95 stays - 423.
- Number of days at least one family member has visited a theme park - 133.
You'd think that would be enough. But, it doesn't seem to be. We have several more visits planned with no end in sight. Part of the problem I'm sure is that we always have fun. And in the emerging world of pandemic diseases, WDW has a disarming way of sweeping away the fear. Some of that is the Disney mystique for sure. What could go wrong in the happiest place on Earth? But another part is the informed and intense efforts we have witnessed to keep everybody safe. Like masking indoors, spaced seating, omnipresent hand sanitizer stations and the closing of some attractions that couldn't be made safe.
So what's still the same? The comfortable resorts, the well-organized and attractive theme parks, the fine dining. And people from everywhere. What's gone? Reasonable rates, simplicity and easy access.
You always had to bring money to Disney. Now you have to bring yours and somebody else's. Yet after some reduction in crowd size during the early post-COVID months, the volume of theme park attendees appears to have returned to just about pre-COVID levels. Despite the rising costs. And navigating around dazzled pre-teens and runaway strollers seems to be harder. I don't seem to be as fleet of foot as I once was.
While the quality of in-park dining remains of good quality, getting some of it is way too complicated. It used to be that one would just get in line and browse big wall-mounted menus while working one's way up to a cashier. The only hard part was choosing between fries or apple slices as a side dish. You would then announce your order to a friendly cast member and pay for your lunch with your method of choice. Way too easy.
Now before they let you in the eating area you have to get your phone out, find a viewing angle where you can actually see your screen in the bright sun, and open the Disney app. Then, using your too fat fingers you do your best to find then navigate the tiny e-menu to make your selections and authorize payment. Once the work is done, you loiter around outside until they tell you your order is ready. Then and only then can you go get some food. The result is that most people my age need the help of a millennial to feed themselves.
And then there's the new "star" attraction reservation system. Anything but simple. A star attraction is one that Disney has made eligible for reservations for that day. The attractions so designated each day vary but are always among the newest and most popular. Getting to see the latest and greatest attractions has always been a challenge, but in the past manageable with planning and a little patience.
The new system is an improvement in one way. It did away with getting attraction reservations for future days. That was a nightmare. But getting that same-day reservation now means online at 7:00 am in the Disney app plunking away on your enter key trying to get your plunk in before everyone else. Like trying to buy tickets for a Stones concert. Luckily my favorite attractions (The Tiki Room, The Wheel of Progress, the Tomorrowland Transit Authority) are seldom selected as star attractions, allowing me to get my beauty sleep. But my kids have done a lot of early morning, bleary-eyed plunking.
So with the rising costs and added confusion why do we remain enamored of the megalopolis that is Disney? I guess it's scenes like this. Three generations of kids having fun.
Hell Month (6/29/13, Last Update 9/29/21): In my first Hell Month post, I described how our family always spends the month of May in home improvement and yard cleanup projects. All so the place will look good for our annual family picnic held the first Saturday in June. I also confessed that the annual picnic was originally designed to provide the motivation for doing all that stuff, and that it has worked like a charm.
In my last update on this topic a year ago, I made the claim that the term Hell Month had been officially retired. That was because over the years we have been swapping out high-maintenance items (wooden stuff) with new, low-maintenance replacements (concrete, metal and space-age plastic). The major event in this process was installing a concrete patio where our old wooden deck had been and adding a new drink patio at the end of the driveway.
For awhile I thought we had it made. But then I realized that even low-maintenance chairs, tables and patios need to be cleaned. And the yard is still there demanding attention. Not to mention the addition of erecting (and subsequently the packing away of) the 20' by 10' canopy we bought to replace the shade formerly provided by our departed maple tree.
Then there's the new mobile vegetable planters strewn around the patio that require constant tending during the spring season.
My bride does almost all of this work, but I'm on call for onerous incidental tasks like unloading bags of dirt. A specialty of mine.
Another lingering task is cleaning up after our remaining three huge maple trees and retiring the carcasses of worn out pine furniture. Sometimes with power tools, which is not one of my specialties. Here's a rare shot of me and my trusty saws-all wrestling a frame from an old yard swing into smaller pieces. Note my fancy work station, and refined technique.
After contemplating my plight, I think my delusion about the end of Hell Month was fed by two factors. First, I underestimated the many small tasks that go into putting a house and yard into shape. I was too focused on a couple of large ones. And second, I fear my interest in performing spring cleanup tasks is somehow waning. Hard to believe it could actually decrease.
Another factor I could blame, now that I'm in my mid-70s, is that I'm just no longer up to the challenge. Physically. Just look at the pile of meds on my bathroom counter. And recently I was told to "just hold the ladder Honey" while my bride climbed onto the cottage roof to repair the chimney. Three days in a row.
Then there was that step stool incident a while back (I See You in the ICU).
Yeah. Not physically able. I think I'll go with that. I need to lower expectations.
In any event, Hell Month could be forever. I'm thinking more about Angi's List all the time.
Spinners (5/20/15, First Update): In my initial post on the Spinner Invitational I laid out the genesis of this unique phenomenon. How frustration over an oh-so-ordinary system of tournaments designed to reward golf prowess (how unoriginal) gave birth to a new approach to enjoying the game. One that provides recognition not just for how well or how far one can hit a golf ball. But also for a variety of other golf-related skills like playing carom shots off trees and locating sand traps and/or ponds.
In addition, this new approach employs an ingenious handicapping system that pretty much neutralizes any advantage well-developed golf skills might afford. For a full explanation of the world of Spinner golf I refer you to the original post.
I'm happy to report that since that post the Invitational has continued to thrive, outlasting all of its previous competitors (those oh-so-ordinary events) by decades. There was that COVID bump, that caused cancellation of the 2020 Spinner. But even then there were reports that a small group of Spinner zealots defied the pandemic and braved 18 holes somewhere off the grid (what we would today call an orange op).
The Spinner Invitational still has its special awards, the "black box" handicapping formula and a rich social dimension. Tournament day continues to start with a formal breakfast (The Past Champions Brunch) and ends with an extended cocktail hour (perhaps two hours) and dinner. And is themed with a variety of accoutrements radiating bright orange (golf balls, bag towels, hats, shirts, socks, golf gloves and more). And as always, the awards ceremony culminates with the Governor's Trophy winner donning the coveted orange jumpsuit (not unlike the green jacket ceremony of that other big tournament).
But a few things have changed. The big one is the venue. With only two unfortunate exceptions over the last 25 years, the Spinner Invitational was held at the Bay Valley Golf and Country Club just outside of Bay City. The course is a favorite among our players for its interesting layout, consistently fine condition and overall charm (the holes even have names). Bay Valley has afforded our members many fond memories of traipsing up and down berms, navigating around water and sand hazards, and exploring the woods for orange golf balls with little tornadoes on them (the Spinner logo).
But at our 2017 outing we took note that the course had begun to fail, possibly due to some heavy rains and flooding it had experienced in recent years. After inquiries, we learned that the club had changed hands and that the new owners were paying less attention to the course and more to building up their banquet and event business. We read the signs and reluctantly decided to move on.
We held the 2018 and 2019 outings at MSU's Forest Acres courses. And for a couple of foursomes each year, held a day-after scramble. We had adapted and were happy with our new home. Then COVID hit. When we resumed formal Spinner operations in 2021, we were set to head back to Forest Acres. But the unthinkable happened. Forest Acres dumped on us.
It turned out that the course had a larger response than expected for a charity outing they were hosting the same weekend as our tournament. So they bumped our late-morning tee times to mid-afternoon. That meant that with typical Spinner speed-of-play, we wouldn't finish golf until early evening.
Adding the two-to-three hours of trophy presentations, dinner and other after-glow activities, our participants would be driving home late in the evening. After dark even. So we dumped back. We gave up on Forest Acres and went looking for yet another new home.
The good news is that we found one. And in the process built a few other changes into the Spinner world. The 2021 and 2022 Invitationals were played at Hickory Creek on the west side of the Detroit metro area. The course has just the right mix of playability and challenge needed for Spinner golf. It reminds us in a way of the old Bay Valley course. Hickory Creek provides enough water, sand and trees for one to fully embrace the Spinner spirit.
We chose a local course to ease the travel burden on our senior members (which is most) and moved the outing to September to serve as a season-ending celebration. The move also provided a spot in the calendar for the new Spinner Scramble which was launched this June. Both the Scramble and the Invitational were hugely successful. We hope to continue in our new groove for the foreseeable future.
I thought a brief glimpse of this august group through the years might interest you. The participants very somewhat each year, but the core dozen or so have been with us since the early days.
The 1992 Invitational Players
The 2002 Invitational Players
So as you can see, Spinnerdom is alive and kicking. Well, at least ambulatory. As long as we all take our meds.
For you trivia buffs, you can win a free orange golf ball if you can correctly identify how many players appear in all four of the Invitational group shots above. Members of the Spinner Executive Council and their families are ineligible.
Hosting (9/28/16, First Update): Nancy and I have always enjoyed hosting friends and family. We both see it as a way to maintain close relationships and to keep abreast of important events in the lives of those we care about. In the fall of 2016, after a summer of more hosting than normal, I felt I had something to share about the finer points of inviting people into your home and surviving it. Maybe even enjoying it, as it does require a fair amount of work. Ergo the original post.
COVID presented a challenge to this way of life. People were afraid to buy groceries let alone enter someone else's living space for fun. Our 2020 hosting activity was pretty much non-existent, except for infrequent gatherings of masked close family members. No annual picnic, no guests at Wiser Times. In the fall we did resume occasional visits with friends for evening cocktails, always outdoors. But that was about it.
After vaccinations became available, our social calendar came back online. Slowly. And we resumed our annual picnic. This year we put the big canopy up so the picnic could be held exclusively outdoors, including the dinner. A few pics.
As 2022 winds down, we feel we're finally back to a full calendar of family celebrations and hosting gigs at home and at the cottage. But, our expectations remain that all of our contacts are vaxxed and boosted. Where there is uncertainty, we don masks. The emphasis is still on outdoor gatherings, so we've added a gas firepit to our drink patio to extend the fall season as late as possible.
But the biggest change for us in the pandemic era is the loss of the large, overnight gatherings we have hosted for years. Mostly at Wiser Times. We have many fond memories of party weekends at the lake with a house full of friends enjoying the beach, the music and big dinners. But keeping a dozen or more people in close, indoor quarters for multiple days just doesn't seem like a good idea anymore. The current pandemic has certainly waned, especially for the cautious. But COVID and its mutations don't look like they'll be leaving any time soon.
We continue to enjoy time with our friends, and have learned to appreciate the intimacy of small groups. More time to share at a leisurely pace. The big overnighters were fun, but at times could feel a bit like a footrace. And as with most things, I like slower.
Grosse Pointe Charles