Memory Lane - Holidays in the Pointes (October to December 1986)

I closed my last post lamenting my lack of pictures of our September '86 move to Grosse Pointe. Apparently, the mysterious forces behind that photographic lapse weren't easily overcome. It would be mid-October before our photo history would resume with these few shots taken during my parents first visit to our new house.

Here Cathy is entertaining Grandpa Burk in the new family room, telling him all about her new world. The little black dog in my father's lap is BB (short for Black Beauty, a pure-bred toy poodle who brought joy to my parents' lives for 17 years).

In this next shot I appear to be sharing something interesting with Ted and Cathy. Not sure what. Maybe a list of dos and don'ts for proper behavior in the new house. Based on the firm grip Cathy has on the arm of the sofa, I believe she was in her "furniture cruising" stage. 

As a septuagenarian, I've found those old cruising skills have returned. Especially when navigating a room strewn with dog toys and Nylabones the same color as the carpet.   

Here Christine is cruising through the new neighborhood in her own way - Dad-powered kid limo.

Halloween brought the camera out again for these classic shots. First our little pumpkin in an encore appearance of her '85 costume. Hey, stay with a winner.

The school parade was always a crowd pleaser, for parents as well as the kids. Sort of a dress(up) rehearsal for the big event.

Things picked up a little more in November as family members settled into their new routines. Cathy worked on her farm animal recognition and kiddy-car parking skills.

Christine waded knee-deep into her Speak and Spell, an early version of a talking interactive learning toy. A little person inside tells you if you spell something right. At least that's what we told our curious kindergartener.

The Speak and Spell and its more advanced partner Speak and Read are both still alive and waiting in the kid's toy box for the next generation. 

I, too, was adjusting to my new routine of commuting to work from the east side of the city. I was conflicted. Should I jump on I-94 and join the morning rush? That way takes about 20 minutes (to go 13 miles). Also, a lot of braking and honking are involved.

Or, should I cruise (there's that word again) along Lake Shore Drive and Jefferson Avenue, taking in the ambiance of stately mansions, the Belle Isle vista and a host of riverfront high rises. Also, some urban renewal zones, stinky buses and 21 traffic lights. That route takes 30 minutes (to go 12 miles).

In this shot Christine and I, dressed for school and work respectively, are discussing the commuting dilemma.  

Thinking back, I remember many times not deciding which way to go until I reached the end of my driveway. Left to I-94 and the stress of the freeway, or right to Lakeshore Drive and the stress of maybe being late? In the end, over the 25 years I commuted from 651 Vernier to downtown Detroit, I think it was about 50-50.

This next shot is a family classic. As Christy was attending Ferry school and adapting to a new world of structure, Cathy was doing this. Structure was not involved. Early on she was definitely into "everything everywhere all at once".

In the '80s, a fashionable approach to child-rearing was environmental control. Rather than teach (read discipline) our little darlings not to go places or touch things that they shouldn't, we physically modified our living areas so they couldn't. Baby gates, cupboard locks, electrical outlet covers, child-proof bottle caps, and more. Failure to take such measures could easily brand you as an irresponsible parent.

The picture above is an example of this philosophy. Note the height of the crib mattress above the floor. It's 14 inches. I know that because that's where I drilled the extra holes in the head and foot boards to lower the mattress. It was the only way we could keep Cathy from climbing out of her crib. 

Before I lowered the mattress she was quite adept at climbing up on whatever was in her crib and vaulting herself over the rail for the roughly four-foot fall to the carpet, and freedom. We weren't too fond of that move even though it did indicate an early spark of ingenuity and determination. 

We hosted family Thanksgiving that year, happy to show off our new digs. The pictures didn't turn out that well. Thankfully, the turkey did. Here's a shot of the adults - from left to right Nancy's brother Dave and his bride Barbara, yours truly in a Norman Rockwell moment, and Nancy's parents Rae and Marge. That's Nancy behind the camera.

It was the first service of our kitchen snack counter as the kid's table. Left to right are nephews Brian and Matt with daughter Christine. Definitely a rose between two thorns.

At (or rather in) the kid's-table annex was our other rose, Miss Cathy. She seems to be participating fully in the holiday conversation. Either that or she's unhappy with the wait staff. 

With the first formal event of the holiday season in the books, the family continued to adjust to our new life. There was the new house thing, sure. But of more interest were the girls. Christy adapting to a her formal schooling, and Cathy blossoming under the loving care of her parents.

So, how do I explain this?

Or this.

Or worst of all, this.

The answer is obvious. Even the most rigorous home child-proofing cannot overcome DLS (dad-level supervision). On the bright side, it's very possible that children learn important survival skills while in the care of their fathers. On behalf of fathers everywhere, that's our story and we're sticking to it.

Early December passed pretty quickly into the dreaded decorating period. I previously documented my feelings about the holiday season in a three-part post starting in January of 2019 (The Launch). 2018 had ended with a rather arduous couple of months, and I took my weariness out on my readers. 

1986 was much more relaxed. It all happened slowly. But even then I could sense where our family holiday routine was headed. It all starts with this. Ground zero for Santa.

Next we moved to assembly of our artificial tree. We had real trees the first couple of years in Dearborn, but gave up on that adventure when I realized I had developed an allergy to pine needles. 

The newest member of the family was quite taken with the whole idea of a tree inside the house.

Taken, yes. Helpful, no. She spent most of the tree-raising time playing among the unassembled components. But, still pretty cute. Or should I say - impish.

We each had our role to play in this annual ordeal tradition. I fulfilled mine with typical panache. 

Actually, my primary role then as it is now was to pull all of the holiday paraphernalia from its hiding place and distribute it to its designated locations. In 1986 all our stuff was wedged into an attic storage area that I had to crawl into. The process involved a lot of head bumping and knee scraping and then wrestling a mishmash of boxes and bags down a flight of stairs. 

I'm not sure if the above picture is of me steeling my nerves for the task or soothing my wounds from the task. I don't see any band aids or ice packs so I would assume this was before. The good news is that after the 2018 debacle (described in the previously mentioned posts), we relocated all of the holiday decorations to a closet on the main floor. Way better. Duh.

The fact that Christine had started school with Cathy soon to follow also meant that our family was about to embark on that (at least) 16-year journey of parent-teacher conferences, school concerts and plays, and other social events. First up - a local ritual called "Breakfast with Santa". It involved taking the kids to a pancake breakfast at the elementary school after which everyone stands in line to see Santa. Fun. A couple of pics. 

First, the line for pancakes. This may have been Cathy's first experience in a crowd. She took it all in quietly, with wide-eyed interest. 

Christine on the other hand was into it, giving Santa a thorough briefing on her Christmas needs.

In this final pic from the pre-Christmas period, Christine is gleefully dancing to holiday music fully immersed in the moment. I on the other hand (the red lump on the sofa) appear to be sleeping it all off.

The weekend before Christmas we journeyed north to Linwood to hang with my parents. My brother Jeff was also there with his family. Holiday visits with Wendell and Dolores were always quite informal. A few beers, some friendly cribbage, and usually a family board game around the kitchen table. A few pics. 

First, some pre-activity quiet time. In the foreground niece Dee Dee is playing with the small stash of toys my parents maintained for just such occasions. Behind her Ted is getting mentally prepared for the competition to come. 

Here my brother Jeff is explaining the rules of a game we are about to play to Cathy. Dee Dee is following along to make sure her dad gets it right.

In this shot the game is afoot. Fully engaged from left to right are Ted, yours truly, Christine and Nancy.

I can't remember what we were playing. I remember the green spinning wheel in the left foreground, but not the name of the game. Maybe Christine or Cathy will help us out here.

In this final shot from that evening, it looks like one of us had done better than the other.

Back home, the big day was finally here. Our first Christmas in our forever home. It was a good one. Cathy was now old enough to mostly get what was going on, and Ted was still young enough to fully embrace the magical side of the day. Christine was in her Christmas prime (and for the record has never left it).

Here's a shot of the night before. Our first Christmas with a proper place to hang stockings. The little one was busy dreaming of sugar plums. 

Of course, Santa's helper had a few last minute assignments. Our Schnauzer-mix Heidi is standing guard.

And, Voila! Two months of planning, decorating, shopping, wrapping, hiding surprises and waiting is finally over. Now if the kids will just forget what day it is tomorrow and sleep in. Yah, right.

They didn't forget. But, they waited until a respectful 7:30 which became our Christmas morning tradition. Here are the kids in the required group picture before the fun begins.

What ensued was an extended session of unwrapping, enjoying and appreciating a generous collection of gifts. Here are a few highlights.

What's better than a new dress for a budding fashionista.

Or Metroplex for a transformer aficionado.

Or a Cabbage Patch kid for a new mama.

For Mom it was the thrill of having your kids sharing in your own excitement.

And as usual, Dad was ecstatic to receive something he could put together. Excellent.

At the end of the revelry, the living room looked like this. 

The dog and maybe Cathy are in there somewhere, I think. And I'm pretty sure there was a little pick-me-up in my eggnog as I contemplated where to begin with the cleanup.

By 1:00 we had recovered sufficiently to get dressed, pile into the car and head off to Ann Arbor to celebrate with Nancy's side of the family. A few pics.

First, a gathering around the tree to catch up and share our Christmas stories. One of us had received a football uniform. Guess who.

We then moved to the main event - Christmas dinner. It was an impressive kids' table with Ted, Brian, Matt (still in uniform) and Christine with her back to the camera. Not sure where Cathy was during the photo op. Maybe napping, not quite recovered from the morning's activity?

 

And the adult table, with the usual players - Nancy, brother Dave, hostess Barb, and Nancy's parents Rae and Marge. It was a thoroughly enjoyable finale to our Christmas festivities. 

Pretty much partied out, we made our way back home and settled in for the holiday week. The pace of life slowed dramatically as indicated by these final pics of 1986. We adults worked on tidying up and incorporating our new stuff into our household,  

Meanwhile, the kids enjoyed a slightly less-attentive level of supervision. 

We did feed them and made sure they were in the house. But mostly we let them work on those independent survival skills mentioned above. 

This last pic sums up our family mood as 1986 came to a close - life was good. 

On to 1987.

Grosse Pointe Charles