Memory Lane - Regular Order (January to June 1988)

Now that the 2025 edition of Hell Month is over (see original post if you're unfamiliar with this ordeal), I'm back on Memory Lane. 1988 to be specific. 

Deja vu all over again? Well, not really. Most of the things our family did through 1988 we had done before. Multiple times. The groove thing, known in governmental terms as regular order. Of course there were the usual new wrinkles and speedbumps that come with each new year, but for the most part 1988 played out according to plan. Some highlights.

There isn't much photographic history through the winter months, which seems to have been our way in those early years. But I found a couple of pics worth noting. The first is a favorite of ours, little Miss Catherine at a Ferry School function in March (Christine's elementary school concert).

What a cutie, you say. All decked out in her fancy dress and shoes. Smiling like a cherub.

Close. Cute yes, cherubic no. She's actually sitting time-out on the staircase for poor behavior during the concert. Wouldn't stay in her seat, wouldn't be quiet, didn't respond to our parental threats entreaties. So she was summarily escorted out of the auditorium and plopped down on the steps with the usual warning of worse to come if she moved. I then spent the rest of the concert a few feet away ensuring her compliance and smiling at passers by who thought she was "so darling". I'm not sure who won that engagement.

Then there's this shot from April.

Ted amongst a slew of sisters, taken during a visit of Christine and Cathy to Ted's Mom's house. That's Ted's other sister Jayme on the right. As a big brother, Ted had a full plate. 

The visit was a rare event, for sure. But a reminder to me of how well these little kids navigated complex situations. More curious than confused, and generally accepting of straightforward answers to their questions. 

We were back in Linwood in May for one of our frequent visits to my parents' home. Those trips were a major component of the family groove that I like to talk about. And as noted earlier, I like these pictures mostly for the subtle changes they capture from year to year. Here are some shots from that visit. First, Cathy having a little Grandma time.

In May of '88 Cathy was almost three. Not just a toddler anymore, and working on her conversation skills. Who better to practice with than Grandma.

Here we have sweater-boy, I in my favorite knit/suede, satin-lined, zippered sweater-jacket.   

This old friend was a gift from my mother in the early '80s and is still on the job (actually I'm wearing it as I write this post). It's in good shape for a 40-year-old and too warm and comfortable to ever abandon. Plus, I always get mom-points for showing up in it.

About sweater-boy, I've always been sensitive to cooler air. Maybe because my normal body temperature is 97 point something. As such I usually have a sweater on or nearby, just in case. Less so in summer months, but there are still those cool evenings and night breezes off the lake. And the odd over-air conditioned restaurant or doctor's office, where I seem to be spend a lot of time these days. 

This next pic I call girls-in-jeans. Typical weekend visit activity. Sitting, relaxing, staring into the camera. Except for Christine. I believe she's staring into a more interesting dimension. 

A spring trip to Linwood wouldn't be complete without a day at the ball yard. Ted was 12 then and I believe playing his last season of Little League. Here are a few shots for the record.

First, the baseball card photo.

The stare down. 

The mighty rip.

And ho hum, another run.

Easy game. All the while the girls were getting their kicks on the big wheel, going for that marvelous "I'm too dizzy to stand up" feeling. Better than hitting a home run.

Back home for Mothers Day, Christine and Cathy were all decked out for the festivities. Mothers Day in our family usually meant a family gathering and a formal dinner, and 1988 was no exception. I found this picture of the girls helping Grandma LeRoy open a few gifts. In the photo Marge appears to be reading a homemade card from the girls, always a highlight of the day. Christine, the lead author, looks pretty amped.

June of '88 saw the usual spring/early summer activities, like yard work. The picture's a little fuzzy but you can clearly make out the identity of my apprentice. Everybody starts out on dust pan.

There was backyard fun, first on some high-tech fitness equipment. 

Then at a local waterpark. The girls had season passes.

Meanwhile, Ted was furthering his education and graduating from 6th grade. He's the happy one in the middle.

Our Fathers Day celebration was slightly less formal than our earlier Mothers Day gala. More of a tee-shirt-and-shorts affair. Some cards, a couple of nice gifts and some thoughtful conversation with my kids. 

Of course, the tolerance for sustained discussion varies with age and personality type. In the pic below Christine and I are still going strong on some point of mutual concern, fueled no doubt by our common quest for precision (read OCD). Cathy has shifted her attention to the wrapping paper. And Ted's body language seems to be asking, "Are we done yet?" I'm guessing the conversation portion of the day may have run a little long.     

Toward the end of June we were back in downtown Detroit for another one of these - 

Where crazy people like this -

Sit on a rooftop in the hot sun (some without hats) to watch other crazy people do this -

Yes, another of our Grand Prix outings. Courtesy of a good friend with a geographically fortunate rooftop. As always, it was fun. Also loud and - aromatic? 

Eventually, the least crazy members of our crowd wanted to move on to a shadier venue out of range of race noise and the pungent aroma of gasoline. Here's a shot of them by the exit waiting for me to grab just one more free hotdog. 

The downtown Grand Prix years were memorable. On Free Prix Day (the Friday afternoon before) everyone would take off work and cruise around the course carved out of city streets and the drive along the river behind the Ren Cen. There were no races on Friday afternoon, but time trials were being run. At some locations you could get right up to the outer fence, about 20 feet from the course, and feel the wind and the roar as cars sped by. It was...well exhilarating doesn't quite cover it. 

On Saturdays, when our rooftop parties happened, there were usually five or six warm-up races of different classes of cars. They were all just as loud and scary as the big race, which was run on Sunday. You needed real money to see that one up close. 

I never made it out to the Belle Isle track, where the race was run in later years. It just didn't have the same appeal to me as watching these incredible machines zip by your favorite downtown hangouts on streets you knew very well. 

I did record the TV broadcast of the last downtown race of the original Detroit Grand Prix series, held in 1991. I still have the video cassette. And while my days if fighting large, noisy crowds are over, I'm glad the race is back downtown. It just seems proper, even though the drivers don't like it very much. Hey, if it was easy anybody could do it.   

As June faded into July, our journey through 1988 headed into summer and some of our most memorable times at the family cottage in Ontario. That's where I'll pick up the story next time.

Grosse Pointe Charles