Father of the Bride Part 2 - The Wedding

As promised, here is my commentary on the November wedding of daughter Cathy to Matt, son of Paul and Kit Kuhlman of Owosso. Sorry for the delay. The holidays, an extended trip south, the polar vortex, and most recently empty-nester house make-overs have kept me away from the keyboard. But I've finally worked my way down the list to "blog maintenance". So here we go.

The wedding was a grand event, planned to the nth detail, and executed with aplomb. As with my previous post Father of the Bride Part 1 - Who's That Girl, what I'm offering is a look at the proceedings from the father of the bride's point of view (duh). The pics are from the gallery of 1800+ shots taken by the professional photographer who covered the wedding. She did a fantastic job, as you will see.

I did have a couple of roles on wedding day. The first was, of course, giving the bride away. The second was being the "fixer". That is, leaping into the breach to prevent anything that looked like it might go wrong from actually going wrong. Fortunately, I was able to resolve the few items that came up by merely standing around with a frown on my face, looking official in my tux, and waiting until someone who knew what to do showed up and saved the day. Not that much different from just being a dad in general. But let's take the day from the top.

Among other things, a wedding day is also an opportunity for super-primping. I mean, big time. Hair, makeup, nails - you name it. And not just for the bride. The bridesmaids, the mothers of the bride and groom, even the flower girl joined in the festivities. Here are a few pics from the bridal suite at the Michigan League during this afternoon-long prelim. First up is the bride-to-be with her "do" in process. In the second shot Cathy is demonstrating the classic "two-mirror, what-do-I-look-like-from-behind", inspection technique.

Then there is the dress, shown here patiently awaiting its moment, which would be after all the exotic makeup potions are safely tucked away.

It's a strange phenomenon, the wedding dress, at least from the father's point of view (and most likely from any boy's point of view). At first glance, it seems an expensive proposition. But, owing to the numerous TV episodes of Say Yes to the Dress that I viewed (or was subjected to) during overnight visits to Cathy's Alexandria apartment, I realized (was brainwashed to believe) that the wedding dress is special, accenting the bride's natural gifts and emphatically establishing the majesty of the day. And of course, Cathy's dress is quite beautiful. So, we boys just have to get over it.

Moving on, here are a few more pics of the primp phase of the day. First up, bridesmaid Laura assisting flower girl Leili with what Leili refers to as "my wedding dress".

 

Next, brother of the bride Ted helping son and ring bearer Cyrus with his cravat,

and bridesmaid Laura assisting bridesmaid and sister of the groom Kim with her dress.

Here we have the bride and maid of honor/sister of the bride Christine taking a brief break from primping to provide me, the fixer, with instructions for the day. How do you like the dapper outfit I am sporting? And please note that just like the best Italian waiters, I'm writing nothing down. It's all in the old noodle (for better or worse).

Of course, all this primping can be a little taxing to a girl who is ready early and raring to go. Here's a shot of Leili wondering just when we're going to get this show on the road.

Finally the primping was done, with marvelous results. Here are a few examples starting with the beautiful bride herself,

the girls side of the wedding party,

 

 the bride and her family, 

the groom Matt (boys don't really primp, but you get the idea),

Matt with the groomsmen Jay, Naveen (the best man) and Tommy,

and Matt with his parents Paul and Kit, and sister Kim.

This brings us to the ceremony. First, a few last minute instructions (yes, boys usually need more than girls; it's part of our charm).

Then, seating of certain VIPs,

and the procession, a scene stolen by this just too cute couple.

This set the stage for the entrance of the bride.

The ceremony began with a lovely presentation of roses to the parents, in appreciation, first to Nancy and me,

then to Paul and Kit.

This was a loving gesture that touched us all. And I would add an act typical of the sentiments Cathy and Matt often display regarding their parents and siblings.

Next was the wine box ceremony, a ritual I first saw last year in Toronto at the wedding of cousin Andrew and his lovely bride Sher. The way it works is that the bride and the groom write unshared love letters to each other laying out the reasons they fell in love. The letters, with the bottle of wine, are then sealed in the box where they stay for a designated period of time (10 years in Cathy and Matt's case) or until they are needed to perhaps help get through a bumpy patch in the relationship. When the box is eventually opened, the letters are read, the wine is drunk, and hopefully the process has the desired effect. The whole ritual is then repeated with the writing of new letters and placement of them with a new bottle of wine back into the box, which is resealed and tucked away. Unfortunately, there are no pics of the wine ceremony, but it was a very poignant moment in the proceedings.

The wedding ceremony continued with readings by Matt's uncle Dan (Kit's brother),

and Cathy's brother Ted,

followed by the vows,

the kiss,

 

a few tears,

and...happiness.

Following the ceremony there was a cocktail hour, the photos from which have been confiscated to protect, well, basically everybody. But there is this one photo I can share of the full wedding party before the ties and shoes came off, the libations were uncorked and the two clans and their closest friends began to...shall we say bond (actually, since the ceremony I have thought of the new extended family as the "Kuhl-Burks"; has a nice ring to it, don't you think?)

Following the cocktail hour, the real fun began. Here's a shot of the Michigan League ballroom made over for the reception.

The festivities started with the entrance of the wedding party and parents into the ballroom, followed by the happy couple, dance-stepping, smiling, cheering, and sporting bottles of a favorite beer.

Then there were the opening dances starting with the bride and groom,

the bride and her father,

 

 and the groom and his mother.

 

Following the formal dances, there were a few toasts. First up was...the father of the bride. As Cathy and Matt had an interesting and somewhat long-distance courtship, I felt it important to present the story. And as poetry is the language of love, I related the tale in verse form (and have for the record included the text of the poem at the end of this post). Here's a shot of me delivering the poem in all my paternal glory.

Next up was the maid of honor Christine who delivered an eloquent tribute to her "big-little sister", which included a couple of personality-revealing stories from early childhood, a personal endorsement of the groom, and heartfelt good wishes for the future.

The third toast was offered by the best man Naveen who in clever style brought the house down with several funny stories of Matt and Cathy during their U of M days, including one highlighting Matt's college housemates' assessment at the outset that he had "no chance" of a relationship with this girl (although I'm sure the housemates were usually a reliable source of wisdom, they seemed to have missed this one by a mile). 

The final toast was that of the groom to the bride, during which Matt said all the right things in all the right ways, as confirmed by the following pictures of key interested parties, paying close attention to the message.

 

 

Following the toasts, dinner and dancing ensued for the balance of the evening. Old family and friends mingled with new, and the good times rolled.

I will confess that I actually had an additional assignment during the reception. That was delivering Wisers Manhattans from the secret stash in my room to those in the ballroom that knew enough to ask. And with the collective erudition of the attendees (especially among the Canadian relies), I had a busy but very satisfying evening. Or in more familiar terms, the pre-mix flowed.

Toward the end of the evening there were several group shots taken. Here's one of Cathy with all of the attending Grosse Pointe North graduates.

And to balance, a shot of Matt with his fellow Owosso HIgh alums.

Capping off the group shots was this collection of U of M grads.

I must not close before recognizing my two grandchildren who demonstrated the sturdy side of the family stock by lasting nearly to the end of the evening, dancing their little feet off for as long as they could stand. Here's a shot of Cyrus flashing his Saturday Night Fever moves as his sister eggs him on.

And a final pic of Leili, expressing the feeling we all had, that - to paraphrase Bilbo Baggins - this was a night to remember.

 

To close, as promised, here is the text of my bridal toast:

The Courtship of Cathy and Matt 

 

‘Twas an offer she couldn’t refuse.

And really, what could she lose?

To miss the big game,

That would be lame,

So she answered Matt with good news.

“I’ll go to Ohio State.

I’m sure the game will be great.

But I want to go,

Just as friends, you know,

So it won’t be an official date.”

As a patient and clever lad,

Matt said, “Great, I’m really glad.”

He could clearly see

The possibility -

Things might not turn out so bad.

As we, here today, now know,

‘Twas fortuitous she agreed to go.

The poor Maize and Blue,

Lost, it’s true,

But love had its chance to grow. 

After courting at school for a year,

They each had to choose a career.

They both had a chance

Their careers to advance,

How t’do it together wasn’t clear.

But after a period of doubt,

No surprise, it seemed to work out.

She went to DC,

To Jersey went he,

And their love went the interstate route.

But the unvarnished truth, I’m told,

Was that life on the freeway got old.

‘Twas time to decide,

Just where was this ride

Heading, was it time to be bold?

After dutiful consideration,

And with only minor trepidation,

Cathy and Matt

Took a fifth story flat,

In Hoboken – no more separation.

Life in the big city was grand.

All the high-life and fun one could stand.

But after a while,

Of partying in style,

It was time for a longer-term plan.

Matt started things off with zest.

He proposed, and she said yes.

That opened the door

To planning for more,

And well, you sort of know the rest.

For my part, as they raise the curtain

On marriage, their happiness is certain.

As I’ve often said,

For the well bred

The ‘It’ll work out”s in the person.

It’s obvious to me that these two

Understand, this is so true.

And that with caring,

Effort, and sharing,

Their hopes and dreams can come true.

Now, for the record, I decree,

On behalf of the family tree,

Matt, you’re in,

You’re officially kin.

We welcome you to the family.

So on this grand wedding day,

All I have left to say,

Is here’s to,

The two of you.

May happiness and good fortune pave your way.

Until next time - Grosse Pointe Charles

Comments and more stories from the wedding welcome.

Father of the Bride Part 1 - Who's That Girl?

Ah, where to begin. The story of "the Bride" is, of course, very recent and fresh in everyone's mind. But the "Father of" part goes way back, seemingly forever. Like all dad's, I really don't remember ever being without the constant joys of fatherhood. I've seen pictures of some guy, years ago, always smiling, hair sometimes down to his shoulders, mustachioed, carefree and a bit whimsical. I'm told it's me, but I have a hard time buying that. What do you think?

Then came fatherhood. First, Ted (always a snappy dresser).

Then Christine (an angel from day one).

And finally, Cathy (our bride in the making). We knew she was going to be a challenge from the get-go.

Fatherhood is very rewarding, of course, but not exactly a cake walk. Over time, I'm afraid it has left its mark on me. First, there was the wardrobe thing. You really can't wear a tie with a Goofy tee shirt.

This was followed by a change in leisure time activities. Here I am monitoring the work of my two-ton air pump, prepping for the kids' fun at the lake.

Then, my travel habits suffered a radical make over, introducing me to the exciting world of bungy cords. It's telling that even with a full-size conversion van I had to strap a few items to the roof.

Eventually, through extended exposure, I lost my sense of balance (even while sitting).

And finally, the ability to solve even the most basic of fatherly problems seem to just...fade away.

However, with time, therapy (much of it liquid), and hours of rehab in my lab (thanks to retirement), I've made sufficient recovery to fulfill my primary role of dedicated spouse and, when dignity demands, take on special duties like - Father of the Bride. And one of those duties I feel is to provide a little insight into how Cathy became the person she is. Let's take a look at the evidence.

I call this revealing photo "cute as a button". She learned early on what a camera was and how to use it to her advantage. We found over the years that she could summon up this smile whenever she needed it.

Like here, turning misbehavior into charm, and cleverly documenting the hazards of DLS (dad-level supervision) for posterity. I've always suspected that the photographer (a mom, no doubt) put her up to it. 

From an early age she had a knack for space management, meaning she managed to put as much into her immediate space as she could, preserving options. Who knew what a girl might need next? Better to be prepared. Here she is demonstrating this skill at age one in her bedroom.

This picture also illustrates another dimension of her space management skills - before she could walk she managed to climb the rails and escape her nap space. Note that the mattress in her crib is only a foot or so off the floor. I was able to drill holes in the frame to remount the spring and mattress somewhat lower than recommended by the manufacturer, effectively converting the crib into a stylish but effective "kid-cage". On a positive note, this was one of my few successful episodes with power tools.

Here's a pre-school Cathy at the then family cottage on Ipperwash Beach in early '87, dressed for a walk in one of her first pairs of cross-trainers. Though Wiser Times is now the family cottage, beloved, and full of its own memories, Ipperwash is where Cathy, her siblings, and her mother first learned to love the beach and the cottage life. Ipperwash, and especially Avon Rae cottage, will always have a fond place in her heart. I suspect it is also at the root of her love of leisure activities and the high value she places on vacations and spending time with her extended family.

Not that Cathy only saw the fun parts of life. She has always had an industrious side, as depicted by this photo which I call "I want homework, too!" Here she is still in '87, in an attempt to keep up with big sister Christy (who actually had homework) drawing with crayons on re-purposed computer printer paper (you know, the early stuff, about the size of a flat-screen TV with those little tractor-feed holes on the side; this particular batch was surreptitiously procured from waste bins at the IRS).

Her curiosity bled over into domestic skills as well, especially cooking. This interest has blossomed in her post-college years as she is becoming, like her mother and grandmother before her, quite deft in the kitchen. Here's an early shot of her picking just the right pan for a peanut butter and jelly souffle.

And as you can see from this more recent photo, she hasn't lost the knack of employing just the right equipment for every cooking challenge.

Of course, a strong sense of adventure and curiosity can lead one to overplay her hand. Here's our Cathy in late '88 attempting to set a new land speed record for trikes in a driveway. However, the result was not accepted as official due to the unauthorized weather conditions.

And a totally unbridled sense of adventure and curiosity can really backfire. The picture below, while appearing to be a little angel posing for the lens, is actually a mug shot. The little angel was serving a time-out sentence on the stairs at Ferry Elementary School for talking, running around and actually trying to join in the performance during her big sister's Christmas concert. Remember what I said about that smile?

Another component of Cathy's personality is her love of sports, both as a participant and a fan. In her early days as a neighborhood soccer player, we cringed through several seasons, watching her play goalie with the same fingers that were training on the cello. And although she had a couple of close calls with hairline fractures, she managed to survive the experience with no appreciable impact on her musician-hood.

As a fan, she has always loved the Red Wings and the Tigers, and for a brief period when the Pistons were at the top of the league, she followed them, too. Here's a shot of her using her dad's "Bad Boys" tee as a beach cover-up during the exciting '89-'90 post-season.

Her fan-dom hit its stride with her college days at U of M. I don't think she missed many football or hockey games during her five-year tenure. And as I will explain in my next post, Cathy's dedication to U of M sports had a lot to do with her and Matt - her groom - getting together.

She has also over the years maintained her interest in playing sports. She had a skiing period but has now moved on to snow boarding (I'm told that one should not do both at the same time), and has a budding interest in golf. Here's a fairly recent shot of Cathy at the range in Greenbush, practicing her stance (it's important to look good on the golf course). At present, this is the best part of her game. But once she actually starts swinging at the ball, I'm confident progress will be steady.

As we moved into the 90s, Cathy continued to grow and engage the joys of childhood with her own brand of flair. Here she is demonstrating her prowess with a hammock,

and here guiding her snow saucer down a local sledding hill (Balduck Park, for the locals).  

She also began to grow her reputation as a party girl. Here she is in a fancy dress enjoying an appropriate libation at Ferry School's annual "Breakfast with Santa" gathering. 

In this classic shot, she demonstrates cool beyond her years at a summer happy hour at the cottage,

And in this pic, she is tripping the light fantastic with Grandpa Rae (a well-known local hoofer).

A couple of other personality traits also emerged during this period. One was Cathy's love of animals. Here she is with our Brittany puppy Copper who was every bit as cute as Cathy herself. 

Her interest in music also took root in the mid-90s. Here she is at her first school concert as a budding cellist, an instrument she continued to study both privately and through school orchestras through her college days. 

  

And I don't want to forget her drive for dependability. She learned early in life that one of the keys to success in any endeavor is showing up. Demonstrating that principle is this shot of Cathy receiving one of her many achievement awards.

On a stylish note, Cathy has always had a flair for the latest fashions. Here's a shot of her and big sister Christy modeling their raw chic-ness with the "pillow-head" look. Though creative, this look was just too far ahead of its time and never really caught on. 

The girls' penchant for sartorial splendor was fed for years by what was known as "the dress-up box", a footlocker in our basement playroom that was filled with old dresses, hats, shoes and jewelry from earlier times (with many items from previous generations). The dress-up box was, hands-down, the favorite toy in the house when girlfriends were visiting, which was often. And as you can see from this next photo from a 2008 Halloween party in Ann Arbor, they've still got it.

Flanking Cathy in this photo are four members of what I consider her extended family - from left to right Karen and Laura Yocky, Cathy, sister Christy, and Taryn Dyle. These girls in various combinations spent many, many vacations and family weekends together over the years. This photo captures a lot of history.

And keeping with the theme of extended family, Cathy has always nurtured those relationships through family vacations, weekends with friends, time at the cottage and other traditions like the annual Burk family picnic. Here are a few examples. This first one is of Cathy with Christy and Canadian cousin Heather in a scene I call  "parallel play".

Note that the girls are way ahead of their time as they are engaged together assembling a jigsaw puzzle while each is listening to her own personal music device (low tech by today's standards - Walkmen - but pretty hip in '91 ).

Here we have Cathy with Christy, cousin Matt (in red) and brother Ted in an Avon Rae pic from '94 enjoying a match of that summer's favorite game, chess, on the cottage coffee table (which now fulfills a similar role at Wiser Times).

This was a scene repeated hundreds of times over the years. The games varied - chess, all sorts of cards, Sorry, the Game of Life, Pigmania, Monopoly and others - all had their moments. But the kids' desire to engage each other and spend this time together remained constant.  

This next pic is another scene that occurs on a pretty regular basis - Cathy with a group of her oldest friends assembled for a Burk family picnic, this one from 2011. From left to right we have Dawn, Laura, Jenna, Sara, Cathy and Ken (who cemented his inclusion in the group many years ago not only through his charm, but also by being the first to have a drivers license - shrewd).

Let me close with a couple of shots that in my view sum up Cathy's life as a sister. This first one shows the three kids demonstrating their solidarity during a family trip to the Wisconsin Dells. I call this one "Shades".

These kids hardly ever fought when they were together, despite the disparity in their ages (a span of nine years). I've come to believe this was due to the respect they felt for each other as individuals, and the sense of fairness that respect breeds. Certainly they argued, about who got to sit when on the van bench, what movie should they watch next, whose turn was it to choose the next fast food meal restaurant - all the big kid stuff. But they almost always worked things out on their own, treating each other as equals, developing plans and agreements that met with everyone's approval. And though the youngest, Cathy was always a full player in the dialog. For her as well as Christy and Ted, this sense of fairness still seems to be a life ground rule. I see it all the time in their considerations and decisions.

And finally this photo - one of my very favorites. I've carried this picture in my day planner for nearly 20 years. I call this "happy kids". Here are the two girls, spinning in a teacup in the Magic Kingdom during one of our early trips to Disney World, living in the moment, not a care in the world. When I want to remember how good life can be, I just spend a few moments looking at this picture. And start planning my next ride in the teacup.

So there you have it. A brief but hopefully informative glimpse into the bride's personality and some of the forces that have shaped it. And from what I have seen so far, the groom seems to be pretty much cut from the same cloth. But more about that in my next post, Father of the Bride 2 - The Wedding.

Until then, may you all get to spend a little time in your own teacups.

Grosse Pointe Charles.

Toys

For the last several years, in an attempt to ease the challenge of Christmas shopping for family members spread across the country, we have had a Burk tradition of exchanging wish lists. Some of the items that show up on these lists are practical, like desired clothing items, household gadgets and the occasional tool. But the best stuff that makes the lists are - you guessed it - toys. So in anticipation of the coming holiday, I thought it would be fun to conduct a brief exploration of the phenomenon of toys.

Now, just what constitutes a toy is tricky. The Encarta on-line dictionary's first definition for toy is "something meant to be played with, especially by children". This is only the fourth definition listed for the noun toy in my trusty Webster's New Twentieth Century Unabridged Dictionary, but it's still the one that works for me, with a minor modification. I would say that a toy is "something meant to be played with, especially by people who like to feel like children". So let's go with that.

As you have no doubt gleaned from earlier posts, I place a high value on entertaining myself. I have been afflicted with this character flaw as long as I can remember. But after a few years of minimally acceptable attempts to correct the situation, I humbly but gracefully accepted my fate (I think I was twelve at the time). I have since concentrated my energies on turning this curse into a positive, trying to perfect my methods and to infect as many people as possible. What I've learned is that self-entertainment is largely about toys. Toys can take you back to simpler times, tuck your adult self out of sight for awhile, and lead you into a child-like state of pure and unencumbered enjoyment. If you use them correctly, toys can make time and the rest of the world sort of melt away.

I have many fond memories of favorite toys through my childhood. As life was more reserved in the 50s, and children less doted upon, new toys were generally reserved for birthdays and Christmas. So most of my memories of new toys involve dropping hints to my parents, waiting with over-the-top kid anxiety for those magic days to arrive, then exploding with joy upon receipt of the new toys. I'm getting a little flushed just thinking about all this.

The toy I always think of first whenever I dig into these memories is an airplane I received for my birthday when I was around seven or eight (can't remember exactly, and this was a bit before my day planner habits so I have no written record). I'm not sure why this airplane is so deeply etched in my memory, but it is. It wasn't something that I had asked for, that I recall. And it wasn't wrapped. It was tucked under a blanket on my bed. My mother led me to my bedroom when I returned from school that day and had me pull back the blanket. I was blown away. I remember that the airplane was huge, by kid standards anyway (it seemed to me to be at least a yard long, but since at the time I was only a little more than a yard long, it was likely only a foot or so). It had the look of a commercial airliner. It was metal, shiny, had four propellers that actually spun and landing gear so you could push it along the floor for a proper take off. It was awesome.

I had several other favorite toys as a kid. There was the AM radio (the size of a car battery) on which I first listened to the Tigers and to Michigan football (yes, this green-blooded Spartan started out as a Maize and Blue fan; it was a Bay City thing). There was my first trike, and my first two-wheeler, a chemistry set, an erector set, a miniature Chevy station wagon with spring-loaded wheels, two big steel Tonka trucks (rulers of the sand box), and my first record player (wheeled out of my parents' bedroom as the final gift to my siblings and me one Christmas). I not only remember each of these items vividly, I can still feel what it was like to get them. Such is the magic of favorite toys.

As I reflect on my childhood, I have to admit that I have no idea what happened to any of my toys. I'm guessing that as I grew older and lost interest in old things, they were given away or trashed. Somewhere along the line, perhaps when I had children of my own, my fascination with old things asserted itself. Another example of my pattern of blooming late.

Nancy, on the other hand, still has many of her favorite childhood toys, some of which are proudly displayed in The Museum - the top shelf of our basement play area, reserved exclusively for special toys from the past. Among these are a toy cash register, an actual jack-in-the-box, a toy iron, and Nancy's first ever record player, dubbed by her father Rae as her "lo-fi". It sits proudly in The Museum next to our kids' first "lo-fi" and their first portable tape player, all thought to be fairly hi-tech in their day.

Our long-term storage area contains a few other gems from my Bride's past. There is Patty Play-Pal, a doll that is about as big as Nancy was when she received it. Patty lies wrapped in a blanket on a shelf under the gas meter, fully dressed, patiently waiting for her next play date. She looks so real that every time I come across her while fussing in the storage area I worry that Patty's going to complain about her accommodations or offer me tea or something. Creepy. Also in long-term storage is Nancy's miniature steel washing machine (that actually works by way of a hand crank), a miniature floor sweeper and a toy ironing board (perhaps there is something to the gender bias argument regarding children's toys).

But most precious among all the heirlooms lurking in the time capsule that is my furnace room is Nancy's Buick, her pride and joy. The Buick is a steel pedal car in which my Bride cruised her neighborhood in her early years, never straying off her block of course, but keeping tabs on all important kid goings-on. Below is a picture of our daughter Cathy trying out the Buick in our driveway some years ago, carrying on the tradition. My guess is that in the not too distant future, grandchildren Leili and Cyrus may take their turns in this rarest of conveyances.

But back to my late blooming. While I have virtually no toys from my childhood, I have almost every toy I have ever owned as an adult. This is partly due to the fact that I'm fairly adept at managing storage space, and partly due to my belief that the longer you keep something and use it, the wiser your initial investment was. But mostly, my habit of keeping toys is fueled by the fact that I just like them. I like keeping them in good shape, using them, and remembering the good times I have had with them. Even when one of these old toys finally gives up the ghost, it has a reasonable chance of finding a spot in The Museum and spending its twilight years as decor.

My oldest toys still in use are sports equipment. I still have baseball gloves, balls and bats from the 70s. My bowling ball doesn't get a lot of use these days, but it has about 30 years of experience. I have tennis rackets from the 80s, all of which remain in good shape. I have one wooden racket from the 40s that was my father's. I had it restrung in the 70s and still keep it in its original press. It works just fine but is of the old design, prior to the over-sized rackets of recent years, so it gets very little play.

The Burk family also has a decent collection of board games and jigsaw puzzles, many of which are 25-30 years old. At the cottage we have several older games and puzzles, 30-40 years old and more, that were previously in service at the former family cottage in Ontario. One game in particular, The Game of Life, has seen fairly steady use across the years.

Being a lover of music and movies, many of my favorite toys in adulthood have been electronic. I will admit that the equipment I procured and used in my late teens and twenties has for the most part past out of existence. You can't really get replacement tubes anymore, and that clacking in the middle of 8-track playback is something nobody misses. But still in use are a number of items dating from the 80s and early 90s. This includes receivers, cassette decks, turntables, VCRs and that fascinating but ill-fated piece of magic called a laser disk player (I still have three). You can't help but smile when you slide what looks like a silver 12" CD out of it's sleeve and, with two hands, slip it into a player tray the size of a serving platter. Now that's what I'm talking about. And thanks to the Internet and the endless evolution of technology, older media formats are cheap and still available.

Complementing the old electronic toys are a reasonable number of newer devices, just to keep my hand in. Both the house in GPW and Wiser Times have hi-def TVs, Blu-Ray players and digital music capability. And NetFlix has been known to make periodic appearances. We've also installed two IP cams at Wiser Times, one in the front (lakeside) to monitor the beach and another in the rear (roadside) to monitor snow in the drive. It's kind of fun to access the cameras from home or Florida and see how things are doing. I've also been playing with a digital turntable, slowly adding my vinyl collection to my iTunes library.

But not all my time is spent watching movies and listening to music. I count my modest library of books among my toys (though my reading time doesn't quite measure up to several of my friends who qualify as serious readers), and I have a number of other favorite toys with which I commune on a regular basis. I have a pretty nifty scanner with which I am digitizing the extensive library of family photos and slides. I have a 6' pool table that I use on just about a daily basis. I try not to walk by it without shooting a rack or two. I have a couple of electronic chess boards that I love to use, and even occasionally beat. And with retirement, Nancy and I bought ourselves new bikes (retro styling, of course) and have renewed our interest in golf, both playing and watching. This summer we played more rounds and followed more pro tournaments than we ever have, and enjoyed both activities immensely. We even have a flag stick for chipping and a small but challenging putting green installed in our back yard.

Another favorite toy that has been gathering dust most of its life, and upon reflection is definitely my second-oldest possession after my Teddy bear (I received it when I was seven) is my Scandalli - a 120 base, imported-directly-from-Italy, piano accordion. Here's a picture of me toting this baby around in my accordion marching band uniform (a story for another time).

  

Yes, it's really a musical instrument, but still clearly falls under my self-serving definition of a toy. I took accordion lessons for 12 years as a kid but, sadly, have freed my poor Scandalli from it's velour-lined case only sparingly over the last 50 years. I did with the best of intentions reacquaint myself with its charm and versatility shortly after I retired, planning to make playing music part of my new weekly routine. I was struck by how good the accordion still sounds even after all these years (being a reed instrument, it never goes out of tune). However, after that brief encounter last year other interests overwhelmed my desire to return to the lofty status of musician, and I made little progress. Ever the optimist, I hope to do better in the new year. Wish me luck.

One other category of toy bears mention in this discussion. That would be the basket of chew toys and plastic bones that reside under the silver cabinet in our family room. Our dog Kody inventories, plays with and distributes these treasures around the family room constantly (well, constantly between naps). He likes them all, but his favorite is a big, red, gnarly, soft-sided football that he presents for games of fetch each evening during what otherwise would be happy hour. Here's a shot of the Kode-Man in action.

It's great fun to watch a 45 pound dog go slipping and sliding across a linoleum floor trying to get his mouth around a tumbling oblate spheroid. Kody's toys also serve as sort of a data capture system for tracking unauthorized pet movement, as they often mysteriously show up in other rooms of the house generally off-limits to canines. Catching him in the act is the trick.

Well, there is much more that could be said about the joyous world of toys and their welcome influence on behavior, but I need to work on my own Christmas wish list, due out to the rest of the family by Monday. Any suggestions?

I'd be most interested in your stories of favorite toys, and sincerely hope that everyone receives at least one cool toy this holiday season.

Until next time - Grosse Pointe Charles