High School Reunion

I'm sure anyone who knows me would agree that reuniting with friends and family is a big part of my life. The parties, the golf outings, the music group, cottage get-togethers - it's hard work but someone has to do it.

But since retiring, I've encountered reunions of a different sort. One was connecting on line with an old army buddy that I hadn't seen for 30 years. We met for a lunch and were able to pick up our conversation more or less where we left off in the 80s. And since he's local, I hope to see more of him. We knew each other through some interesting times in our lives, and I enjoy hearing about what he has done in his life since we lost track of each other.

Another example was getting into a semi-regular bowling thing about a year ago with an old colleague that had retired before me and with whom I hadn't had much contact for several years. I had hired into the IRS with this person in 1972. And though our respective outlooks on life have always been miles apart, and our careers took decidedly different paths, that early common experience of breaking into work life together still defines our personal relationship, which is one of trusted peers. I haven't seen this person for the last few months, but I think about him often and look forward to hunting him up in the near term and resuming our friendship in between blown spares and baby splits.

The thing about reunion for me is this. When it happens, I feel the drive gear - in which we spend most of our everyday lives - quietly slipping into neutral, nudged by a natural curiosity. I've always liked to freeze time and revisit pleasant moments from the past, and have written about it often in this blog. But this is different. Reunion is about accessing what others remember about you and sharing what you remember about them. In this light I've found that my most significant reunion experiences since retirement have been about high school. And that's where I'd like to go in this post.

Let's rewind for a minute, and take it from the beginning. In September of 2010, I attended my 45th high school reunion in Bay City. It was sort of a last minute decision. I was puttering around my lab, doing those little everyday things we all do (filing away new media purchases, updating control listings, refilling magic markers), when I received a phone call. It was from an old classmate who was trying to confirm that I was the Charles Burk who graduated with the Bay City Handy Class of 1965. I think she or another may have found my name on Facebook. Not really sure, and I've never had the presence of mind to ask. But I did confirm for her that I was the person she was seeking.

She then informed me that the class was holding their 45th reunion in a few weeks and asked if I would be interested. At that time I was still gainfully employed but thinking about and planning for retirement. It occurred to me that getting reacquainted with one's past might be the sort of thing people do in retirement. So I said yes. A few weeks later, I walked through a doorway to my past that I have since propped open permanently.

I initially thought that I would see many of my old friends at that 45th reunion. And while I did see a number of people that I remembered, none of my very closest friends were there. The ones that were in most of my classes. That I went to football and basketball games and school dances with. The ones that got me in and out of trouble. And knew everything about me. At least as much as you can know about a teenager who really hasn't figured out who he is.

At first, I was a little disappointed, but there were bright spots. One was seeing a few classmates that lived right down the street from me and catching up with them on neighborhood developments. Another was seeing a couple of women with whom I double dated a lot, and sort of had "friendship" crushes on. In other words, they were either already going steady (a major status in '60s culture) with one of my buddies, or - in terms of the inevitable high school caste system - were just out of my league (I was in the nerd caste - brief case, slide rule, but never a pocket protector; I was a cool nerd).

Fast forward four years to the fall of 2014. Suspecting that plans might be in process for a 50th reunion, I contacted the chair of the reunion committee and volunteered my time to help with preparations. As the committee was always willing to accept new blood, I was welcome. It was joining with them on committee work that led to an epiphany - it was possible that I had more in common with those who still enjoy preserving high school memories than I had with those I spent the most time with in high school.

I hadn't given up on getting more of my formerly close high school friends to our next reunion, but I was having a great time working with the committee members and getting to know them much better than I did in high school. In someways we're a survivors club. The cliques are gone, as are the teenage angst and awkward relationships. We are bound together by the fact that we are still here as much as we are by what we did together long ago.

As a committee member, one of my tasks was creating name tags for attendees that included their high school senior pictures. It was fun pouring through the yearbook, reacquainting myself with those images, trying to resurrect a memory for each one. How well had I known him or her? Did we have classes together? Were we connected in some way that I had forgotten? And in case you're interested, here is the image that people were starting with when they were trying to remember me. I haven't really changed that much, right? Except for the Princeton haircut, it's still me.

For most, I was able to reconstruct what I thought my relationship with him or her had been. But for some I had no memory at all, which I thought weird. How unobservant could a young, searching mind be? Then I remembered just how much of high school was about oneself. Who could we claim as friends? What social groups could we crack? How much horse play could we get away with, and would others think we were interesting? About the only time this inward focus was disrupted was when an overbearing parent or teacher insisted that some attention be given to actually graduating. So I was able to rationalize that a reasonably bright and socially outgoing fellow might still miss a face or two out of a class of nearly 600.

Our 50th reunion was finally held in August of 2015 and by all accounts was a huge success. Attendance was very good (over 100 classmates, 179 total with guests). It was a formal event with a sit-down banquet, several speakers, a raffle of mid-60's memorabilia, oldies music wafting across the room, and a creative group photo taken in the foreground of the city skyline from a drone camera. For the record, here is that picture. I'm the guy in the blue shirt in the back row about a third of the way in from the right. No Princeton.  

I was lucky in that more of my closer high school friends made this reunion than made the 45th. It was great to see them. As the evening unfolded and in contacts I've had with them since, it has become clear that these old classmates have the power to reveal pieces of my past that I can't access on my own. They remember things I did in those roller coaster teen years that I had totally forgotten. 

Reliving old times with old friends has been remarkably cool. Despite being trapped in an organic lock box for five decades, those memories are still vibrant. They emerge in full force with surprising clarity, and with their original emotional "soundtrack" intact. I don't just remember those old experiences. I feel them. And that's something I did not expect but have learned to appreciate. I can only hope that the next time around, even more of my former classmates decide to join in.  

Being in the old spaces was also haunting. Part of the 50th reunion weekend was a tour of the refurbished Thomas Lincoln Handy, our former high school (which due to today's smaller student population has been reassigned as a middle school). The building has a new gym, a new pool, an expanded library and a new administration wing. But, the floors and halls and stairways still retain their old personality. One spooky part of the tour was the old gym which has been preserved as it was in the 60s. Tight spaces, concrete seating, the shiny wooden floor. I remember gym classes, basketball games, sock hops and the occasional cross-your-legs-while-sitting-on-the-floor assembly in this timeless space. If only the walls could talk.

But the most interesting feature of my high school reunion experience is that it's still happening. It seems that the reopening of so many past memories is addictive. I want more. I'm not sure of just what I want more of. More memories from the past? More new experiences with people from my past? Or just more time enjoying the world that arises around me when I'm with old classmates. Could be all of those things. I haven't quite put my finger on it yet.

But, I do know that I look forward to and thoroughly enjoy attending when I can the luncheons a core group of old classmates hold in Bay City each month. And since the 50th reunion, the luncheon group seems to be growing, with the occasional new old classmate joining in (supporting this phenomenon is the fact that a high percentage of class members still live in the Bay City area). So each luncheon has the potential to be a very personal, rewarding reunion experience in itself. You just can't get that everywhere.

Well, I think you get the idea. I like reunions. So I'll end here. I hope that if any of you have high school reunions coming up in your calendar that you take the time to attend. You might come away with something you didn't realize you were missing.

Grosse Pointe Chuck

Feeling Good

As I looked over my 2016 activities and thought about things I should do in 2017, I realized that I hadn't spent much time blogging the last few months. Actually, I spent no time. As I have a lot of topics on my blog "to do" list, I was curious as to why this was the case. So I looked through my planner pages since my last post, inventoried recent memory, and discovered that basically I have just been goofing off and having fun. I admit it.

True, I've had some travel lately, and have been immersed in the usual holiday doings, and did have some heavy commitments to other hobby activities. But, in my less-than-hectic daily routine I certainly could have carved out an hour or so most days to keep the blog active and publishing every couple of weeks. I just didn't do it. Instead, I concentrated on feeling good. So, to get things up and going for 2017, I think this might be a good topic to explore.

First, let me stipulate that despite its uncertain relationship with getting things done, feeling good is important. Especially this time of year. There's the customary let down after the hoopla of the holidays. No more left over turkey or ham. No more Christmas cookies. And for many, a return to the grind of the workplace and the weighty expectations of coworkers. Then there are the icy commutes (for me, only to the cottage fortunately) and irritating snow removal chores. Not to mention that we often go 45 days or more into the new year before we see sunshine

Now when I say feeling good, I don't mean your everyday "no big crisis unfolding, normal aches and pains under control, and on pleasant terms with your spouse" feeling good. That's a desirable state, no question. But what I'm talking about is more. That "ooh life is fabulous, can't grin wide enough, please let me do this forever" feeling good. That feeling when you are doing or experiencing something that takes you to that other place, that place you love being and want to be again soon and often.

For me, and I would guess for others, there are a number of vehicles to get you to and tucked into that euphoric envelope. Some are big. Like sailboats or vacation homes or sports cars or trips to exotic places. Those things are nice and can certainly take you to high levels of feeling good. But they normally take some planning, a tidy piece of change and more than a little effort and time to maintain or get to.

What I'm referring to are those lovely everyday things that you can slide into smoothly for a perfect fit in no time at all. And have little purpose other than to make you (or others) feel good. Here are some of mine.

First on the list is just chatting with friends over coffee. Is there a simpler and more enjoyable pleasure than that? It can be in your PJs in the morning by the fire (everyone has gas logs, right?), meeting for breakfast at your favorite eatery, mid-afternoon on the deck (or lanai) after the day's errands or a leisurely stroll, or really anytime you find yourself in the presence of good friends. Since I live (and spend the bulk of my waking hours) with my best friend, this feel-good activity is an easy one for me to find.

An equivalent of this activity is sharing time with friends over happy-hour cocktails. However, societal norms place a few (intelligent) restrictions on this activity, like not doing it in the morning in your PJs, and making sure the dinner plan is well underway before stoppers come out of the bottles.

One noteworthy version of this feel-good ritual for me is Thursday night at the bar with the Spinners (see previous post Spinner Invitational) This small group of friends started out as a bowling team in the '80s. We gave up bowling almost 20 years ago (a few of us had a curling period in there for a few years), but we never gave up getting together. To this day whoever is in town on any given Thursday night comes to the bar. We've changed our venue a few times, lost one dear soul and have added others from time to time. But the basic feel and personality of the group has never changed. We laugh, relive past times, share our troubles, and make fun of as many people as we can (most often each other). And it's great.

In recent years I will admit that the volume of our collective intake of beer and other alcoholic treats has diminished quite a bit, and we seem to be in a different demographic from most of our fellow bar patrons (by a quartet of decades I would guess). And the wait staff seems to treat us with special care (helping us with meds when necessary, making sure the defibrillator is fully charged). But the two to three hours of hanging with the Spinners on Thursday night is still one of the best feel-good times of any week I'm in town.  

Now to be clear, I do like to do things with friends other than sit around and place my kidneys in distress. But nothing else for me is as peaceful, relaxing and rewarding as sharing conversation with old friends and learning of recent events in their lives. Still, most of my own feel-good activities do not require the presence of others. Just me, in my lab or nestled into a deck chair, movie-room recliner or Adirondack, navigating familiar territory with my brain set on cruise control.

Probably the most common of these activities is re-watching movies or favorite TV series. While I do enjoy new movies, especially at one of the new fancy theaters that feature electric recliners, I spend much more time re-watching movies that made me feel good during an earlier viewing. I can do this with little effort because of my extensive home library of 2000-plus titles. Netflix, Amazon Prime and other streaming sources add to the temptation.

Now why would one re-watch an old movie, you say? To me a good movie (meaning one that I like) is like a good recording. It gets into your brain and tweaks those good feelings. No one would question listening to a recording you've heard before, so why not a movie? Also, I have yet to re-watch any movie without picking up a subtle plot point or clever foreshadowing that I had previously missed. Good movies are well-constructed and complex, and are almost always better understood through repeat viewings. Another benefit of re-watching a favorite movie is the anticipation. Knowing that you are about to feel good through reliving a past pleasure is a feel-good event in and of itself. Your brain starts shifting to "oh boy" mode even before you slip that Blu-ray, DVD, Laser disk or video cassette into its respective player. Then it's off to joy land.

I have written a few posts about favorite movies in years past (I'm actually way overdue to resume that series), but I haven't yet dealt with the "feel-good" category. So for the curious, here are just a few of my favorites:

• The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms. This is '50s sci-fi at its finest. A dinosaur freed from the polar ice cap by an atomic bomb test terrorizes New York until a clever scientist and a gutsy soldier ascend a roller coaster at Coney Island to shoot the beast with a radioactive dart. Most of you know that I'm a cheesy sci-fi buff. But the real reason I love this movie is that it was the first film I ever saw in a theater. My parents dropped me off on a Sunday afternoon at the neighborhood theater while they ran errands. I went by myself (I was eight) and was scared out of my wits (of being on my own and of the movie). But I loved it and was forever hooked on movies. Whenever I watch this movie (I have a glorious 12 inch Laserdisk version), I have the same sense of wonder that I had during my first afternoon at the movies.

• Any of the one-hour Bell Science Series educational films made in the '60s, but especially "Our Mr. Sun". There are eight titles in the series, each dealing with a different scientific discipline; I own them all. These clever films use live action and animation to teach the basics of the subject matter at hand (physics, astronomy, biology, weather, etc). The shows are hosted by Peabody Award-winning scientist Dr. Frank Baxter with actors Eddie Albert and Richard Carlson alternating appearances in supporting roles. They were directed by Frank Capra and Jack Warner. The films still hold up today in their creative use of visual effects and fundamental scientific principles. But the reason I love watching them is that they take me back to high school. In those days, one of the best feelings you could have was walking into Biology or Natural Science class and seeing the projector and screen set up. That meant that we were going to watch a movie rather than actually have school. And yes, in my high school nerd-ness, I was a member of the audio-visual crew. So with one of my good buddies (who I admit was the one who really understood how the projector worked), I got to help thread the movie through the gears and tracking spools and sit next to the projector during the show. It was one of my very few "I'm cool" moments from high school. 

• Any Star Trek movie or TV episode. Being a die hard Trekker, I have in my library every foot of film ever released from the Star Trek universe (around 700 hours I think). I have watched this material so often that I feel part of that world. And as such it is easy for me to get emotionally involved with the characters. All of them. From James T. Kirk to Geordi La Forge to Odo, Kes and Dr. Phlox. And since the underlying philosophy of all of Star Trek is "hang in there - things will work out", how can you not feel good. 

You get the idea. I can get to that "other" place pretty easily through movies. But let's move on. I'd like to share a few other feel-good techniques.

Doing anything musical. Playing favorites on my iPod, my phone, in the car, or blasting to ear-splitting level on my home or cottage sound systems (this latter option when I'm home alone, of course). Also making playlists around themes. Both making the lists and playing them is great fun. Music has a unique spiritual quality. It's something wondrous - the non-visual even non-conscious connection between music and your brain. Thinking isn't a part of it. Another option is making music, if you have been fortunate enough to learn to play an instrument. I have recently freed my nearly 60 year-old accordion from the confines of its velvet-lined case and begun tinkering with it. I have tried this a couple of times earlier in my life with little success. Mostly due to other time demands. But I have no excuse now. And I have to admit that after plowing through some start-up lesson books this last week, it's starting to come back. I was pretty good when I was a teenager. I may not reclaim my previous level of proficiency. But bringing my old Scandalli back to life has felt pretty good.

Actually sticking to my fitness plan. Boring. But surprisingly effective. If I exercise (45 minutes of treading, walking, biking or rowing), eat right (what Nancy suggests), get enough play time (a couple of hours on hobbies) and get jammed, brushed and in pre-bed read mode on time (midnight for me), I feel amazing the next day. Duh. I've started off pretty well on this regime in the new year. Now, if I can just keep it up.

Doing for others. Anyway you can. For me this can be keeping in touch (email, texting, Facebook), writing a birthday poem for someone, doing a favor for a neighbor, or creating/finding an inexpensive but personality-appropriate gift for someone (I have often stumbled upon a book or trinket of some kind while fun shopping - thrift stores, discount shops, eBay - that "has so-and-so's name written all over it"). Or one might share a few well-intended thoughts through a blog post :-) Even in the grayest, dreariest, seemingly endless sun-free days of winter, doing little things for others can be a great pick-me-up.
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Well, getting this initial post of 2017 down in print and out into the blogosphere has made me feel pretty good today. So, thanks for helping. I hope you all have ways of blowing off the mid-winter blues and getting to your feel-good places whenever you feel the need to. It's important. And I'd love to hear how you do it.

Happy New Year!

Grosse Pointe Charles

Hosting

I thought about calling this post Entertaining. But the behavior I'm talking about isn't always about entertaining. You could even say entertaining can sometimes get in the way. So let's get right into it.

My Bride and I have just completed our most active season of hosting in our 36 year marriage. In the past 12 weeks (84 days) we have had the following:

• Number of days with at least one overnight house guest - 50. 
• Number of days with multiple house guests - 34. 
• Number of different individuals who were house guests - 27.
• Highest number of house guests at one time -13.
• Total number of guest-days (a guest-day = one individual staying over one night) - 148.

Whew. That's a lot of linen laundry. And that's not considering a dozen or so other friends and family that dropped in for an afternoon or a cocktail party to catch up with the overnighters.

Here is some of the documentary evidence of these past few weeks. I will concentrate on the group events. First, a few shots of the family get-together in early August. Here we have the classic dinner shot with, from left to right, my mother Dolores, my son Ted's girl friend Summer, granddaughter Leili, grandson Cyrus, moi, son Ted, daughter Cathy, son-in-law Matt, daughter Christine and my Bride.

Here we have a classic post-dinner game session (Quirkle this night) with Christine, Summer, Cathy, Ted and Leili.

This pic is of the equally classic s'mores party with Ted instructing his kids on the basic skill of not burning your marshmallows to a crisp, and Christine demonstrating her well-honed technique.

And finally, a four-generational version of happy hour in the gazebo.

A couple of weeks later we hosted the annual weekend gathering of our Music Night group. Again from left to right, Jeff Reinhart, Christine, Pat Rouan, Pat's bride Linda Mathews, Laura Forest, moi, my Bride, Deandra Reinhart, Quinton Anderson, Jim Wyatt, Laura's hubby Brian Bauer, and the Reinhart offspring Miranda and Justin.

This shot is of a casual post-lunch gathering under the deck umbrella with Brian, yours truly, Justin and Deandra.

 

And a gathering of electronic tablets on the deck shutter table with Justin, Linda, Deandra, Laura and Nancy.

Finally, a late-night Irish cream session in the gazebo with faces shaded to protect the guilty.

The Music Night crowd had barely left town when another family episode unfolded. Here are my sister Wendy, up from Florida, and my sister Cindy from Flushing.

During her stay at Wiser Times, Wendy was visited by two of her Michigan daughters. In this first shot we have daughter Melanie from the Traverse City area who joined in the family fun for the Labor Day weekend.

Wendy's eldest daughter Jennifer also dropped in for an afternoon with her daughter Lauren. From left to right Christine, Lauren, Jennifer, Wendy and Melanie. It was fun to get this group of nieces and cousins together for the first time in quite a few years.

Closing out the group hosting series for the summer the weekend after Labor Day was a gathering at our home in Grosse Pointe of a few of Nancy's high school classmates, in town for a 45th reunion weekend. In this pic, I'm sitting at the bar in our family room with Miguel from Tennessee (who with his bride Jan were also house guests for the reunion weekend) receiving instructions from Nancy on the role of non-classmate spouses at the big dinner (smile, buy drinks, and avoid private conversations with her and Jan's old boy friends).

Here is a picture of several of these old friends as they gathered for the reunion dinner down the block at the Grosse Pointe Yacht Club. From left to right one more time, Carol, Sue L, Pam, Gary, Sue V, Nancy, Eva and Dawn. All but Sue L spent time at our home that weekend either as a house guest or cocktail party attendee.

There'll be more coverage of all these noteworthy events in my 2016 in Review posts at the end of the year, but you get the idea. There was a fair amount of hosting going on this summer in the Burk household.

So you may ask, "Are you nuts? Why would anyone do all that? I mean, you're retired, right? Taking life easy?"

No, we're not nuts. And yes, we are retired and for the most part, taking life easy. At least we hope to be soon. Let me explain. Or at least try to make a cogent argument for our odd behavior.

First of all, we like people. Especially our close family and friends. And, not to get too heavy about it, we have a family value to do things with and for our family and friends (see previous post Family Values for more on this concept, rooted in my former days as a Franklin facilitator). This value has led us to think about ways to spend time with our family and friends and to fashion our activities and worldly spaces to accommodate that thinking.

Second, getting together is fun. And as I've noted in a number of previous posts, fun is one of my best things. It pumps me up and starts those creative juices flowing. Now I do like my private time - playing music, watching movies, reading books, communing with nature at the water's edge. And my hanging-with-my-Bride time - chatting, choring, binge watching TV series of our mutual interest, going to movies, playing golf, imbibing by the fire, and road-tripping around the country. But many of our favorite memories are of our times in the presence of the many family members and friends we consider to be kindred spirits.

And third, there are a few practical benefits of periodically inviting others into your space as I have waxed about philosophically in a number of previous posts. Deep cleaning, home improvement projects, lawn and garden maintenance - all seem to take on greater importance and satisfaction when company's in the calendar. It seems as though these worthy but onerous tasks often don't get done until only a few days (or sometimes hours) prior to cars pulling into the driveway.

Now despite these excellent reasons for hosting, I admit that it does take a little more than good intentions and to-do lists to pull it all off. Over the years I've learned a little about the art of hosting, how to keep it fun, and how to retain the desire to some day host again despite the challenges. So I thought I would share a few tips. Here goes.  

1. Don't do it unless you really want to. This may seem a little harsh, but we should start at the beginning. Not everyone is cut out for hosting. And that's fine. We each have roles in life that we're not comfortable with. And no hosting is painless. If you're not comfortable with others exploring your house, working in your kitchen, playing with your toys, tapping your beer fridge, and generally rearranging your household, hosting isn't for you. All these are requirements for putting people at ease, which is key to successful hosting. If such behavior makes you wince, you'll be better off practicing the equally valuable skill of being a gracious guest. No shame in that.

2. Don't do it unless your spouse (if you are so blessed) really wants to. Your life partner should be as comfortable as you are with the guest behaviors described above. For those of you who are strong feelers, this should be intuitive. Nothing grieves an otherwise happily married soul as much as an unhappy spouse. And you don't want to experience this debilitating phenomenon with a house full of people looking for a good time. For those of you who think such an obstacle can be overcome with a little planning and smooth talking, you have my sympathy.

3. Do some initial planning. If you make it past Tip 1 and Tip 2, you're ready to actually think about how to make your hosting adventure a success. Your plan should be simple, but you do need to consider the basics - who's coming when, what will they eat, how do they like to play, and if overnighters are involved when and where will they sleep. The greatest benefit of developing your plan is that once you've thought through all the prep work that will be involved in your hosting event, you will likely cancel the whole thing and save yourself the trouble.

4. Don't hog all the fun. If you make it past the planning, the cleaning, and the menu prep, and you're actually in the presence of a house full of guests, too late. You're toast. Just suck it up and live with the fact that you blew all your chances to escape. However, even at this late date, there are still a couple of things to keep in mind. One is that good people - the kind you would invite into your home - always want to contribute. So don't be selfish. Take advantage of Be kind and let them express their natural generosity.

For example, encourage them to bring food items they like, and even help you with kitchen chores during their stay. You could also "inadvertently" leave out a cleaning or maintenance tool or two. You never know when a guest might enjoy firing up a vacuum cleaner or playing with a weedwacker.

5. Accommodate those guests with special needs. This notion is a slight variation on the previous suggestion. We all have friends with what I will refer to as personality quirks, or predilictions for certain activities. These semi-compulsive behaviors can be social in nature, like sharing music or movies, taking pictures, or even taking on a quasi-hosting task such as staffing the BBQ grill. Other behaviors may be work-oriented, such as an obsession for fixing things or improving the functionality of any device within one's immediate surroundings.

In keeping with the spirit of the PGDA (Party Goers with Disabilities Act), I recommend that you take steps to make these individuals comfortable during their guest experience by encouraging them to just let it out. Tell them to feel free to exercise their particular foibles while in your space. And then make a point of thanking them for their contributions.

In severe cases, like incessantly productive personalities, you may need to procure project materials in advance (like a new shower head or a fresh load of unsplit firewood) and leave them out with appropriate tools in full view of the affected souls. This will allow such guests to break into a fit of repair or improvement at their own pace, when he or she can no longer hold back. They will enjoy the rush, and with a little foresight you may get a burdensome task off your list.  

6. Act like a guest yourself. My last tip for surviving a hosting experience is to do as little doting on your guests as possible. The best way to accomplish this is to usher your guests to their accommodations, show them where everything is (food, drink, bathrooms, spare meds), and give them license to explore your home at their leisure. It also helps to point out your latest toys and entertainment devices, and encourage all to try them out. And then, just blend in and go about your business as if you were a guest yourself.

What you will find, especially if your guests have been in your space before, is that they will quickly learn and master "the drill". They will know everything necessary to relax and enjoy themselves and interact with your other guests just fine, unless you get in the way. The only exception to this principle is to make sure you listen to and promptly act on any "suggestion" your spouse might make regarding the comfort of your guests. After all, you want to do more than just survive the current -hosting assignment. You want to live to host again.
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Well, that's enough for now I would say. I hope you find a pearl or two in these tips to help you either avoid or make the most of your next hosting experience. And perhaps you will feel a little more at ease when you are next hosted by the Burks, now that you know that our inattention to your every need is not personal but just part of the plan.

Grosse Pointe Chuck

NFTL - RDate 48.24

I've been off doing things the last few weeks instead writing about them. But as I celebrate the fourth anniversary of my retirement, I think it's time to return to the blogosphere with an edition of Notes from the Lab. These updates relate to a few posts from the earliest days of the blog. So here we go.

Emerging from the Cocoon (7/17/12) - Two years ago in an update of my inaugural post, I bragged that I had after 22 months fully departed from the overly structured but safe and secure confines of my work world and ventured forth eagerly into the halcyon days of retirement. I was emoting over the freedom of choice and endless options that characterized my waking hours. And how I had accepted this transformation without regret, shedding the manacles of structure and flitting euphorically from one form of play to another.

However, after four years in my new world I now realize (to paraphrase Secretary Nimziki in Independence Day regarding a denial of Area 51) that was not entirely accurate. What has actually happened is that I've spun a new cocoon. Granted, the new cocoon is more pliable than the old, has impressive portability, is more work resistant and less accessible by others, and came with a great entertainment package. But it's still a cocoon, and I tend to leave it for the outer world only when She someone makes me.

In retrospect I should have realized that I was retiring with the same hard-wired brain, in the Jungian sense, that I depended on all those work years. My day planner lists are just as long as they used to be, although the nature of the tasks is quite different - more commitments to myself, fewer to others. I find I notice as many things as ever that I would like to change about the world, though these days I usually only act on those that directly affect my well-being. And as I sit sipping my coffee each morning, I don't seem to be able to fully boot up until my plan for the day is reviewed, critiqued and finalized.

But I'm okay with all of this. Life in the cocoon is good. I've been able to squeeze a vast array of toys inside. My life-support systems are fully functional (providing ample supplies of food, meds, Wiser's Deluxe and cheesy science-fiction movies). And my family and friends are usually willing to visit me inside the cocoon or only a short distance away. What more could a body just not quite ready for complete adulthood ask for?  

Chores (7/29/12) - My last discussion of this topic centered around the deep freeze of 2015 and the snow removal and frozen pipe issues it spawned. This last winter was pretty mild by comparison, so no new "weary of winter" woes. But lately I've noticed a few chronic chore challenges that seem to be getting the best of my normally rosy disposition. They are things that never seem to be done, regardless of effort or ingenuity. I call them the d--- three Ds - dusting, decluttering, and deck lights.

Now if you recall, my retirement required a renegotiation with Nancy regarding household maintenance duties. For the most part, the results of that tricky conversation have worked for me. I have approached my new duties with vigor and the philosophy of continuous improvement that characterized my work life. You know. Learn how things work, then figure out how to do them better or easier (see previous post He Has a System for Everything for a full discussion of this idealistic handicap). But my efforts to excel in the three Ds have been ineffective.

Take dusting. Tedious but simple, right? Periodically wipe down everything you own to remove any dust that has accumulated since your last wipe down. And where appropriate use cleaning agents (Pledge, Glass Plus, my Bride's all purpose homemade concoctions). But, I can't seem to keep dust away for much longer than it takes to stow my cleaning supplies. Dust is mostly just dead skin, right? That's flaked off an unknowing person or pet or other living thing and hidden out in your abode's atmosphere waiting for no one to be looking so it can quietly sneak down and cling to some prized possession that has hard to get at nooks and crannies?

What am I doing wrong? Is it my technique? Is it those dollar store furnace and airconditioning filters? Have I offended the dust gods with my frequent disparaging remarks about their domain? Whatever it is, it's wearing me out. The constancy of dust has taken the fun out of housework. And there wasn't that much fun there to begin with.

Then there's decluttering. I know, this is a self-inflicted wound. Anyone who proudly crams as much stuff into his limited spaces as I do just to show he can do it, deserves this problem.

The clutter potential of any space is directly proportional to the amount of stuff in it. And as I do my best to use all of my toys as much as possible, there's a high likelihood that a lot of items will be out of their assigned bins at one time. Ergo, clutter. Couple that with my compulsion to put all my toys away before I go to bed, and de-cluttering becomes a constant event. But I can't help it. I like all that stuff. And I need it. I just wish the Mary Poppins finger-snapping thing worked.  

But the most aggravating of the three Ds is my running battle with deck lights. Let me explain. My Bride, whom I dearly love, loves deck lights. Deck lights, in turn, love to torment. And I'm not just referring to the ordeal of installing the strings - drilling many tiny holes and hand turning little brass hooks into those holes the full length of the desired deck light locations (from my reckoning, we have about 100' of deck lights).

No. The scraped knuckles, broken drill bits and life-threatening wood slivers that come with this job aren't enough. There's the post-installation bad behavior. I've learned that deck lights are just as nasty as their little cousins, those infuriating itty-bitty Christmas lights that all stop working at once when any of their number feels like taking time off. Worse, you can't put deck lights in a box in early January and lock them away for eleven months. They torment all year long.

And deck lights have evolved over their lemming-like Christmas kin. They are smarter, and quite independent. They don't all go out at once. They take turns. They want to make sure that each and every mischievous act causes maximum pain, forcing me to procure a new bulb, haul a ladder out to the problem venue, and spend treacherous moments hanging off that ladder while stretching out to wrest the culprit from its socket and install the replacement.

Further aggravating my situation are two additional factors. First, I'm now fighting this war on three fronts. We have deck lights (all different types, of course) hanging from our garage in GPW, and our deck railing and gazebo at Wiser Times. And I'm pretty sure these three rebel armies are coordinating outages with each other, communicating through electrical power cords and maybe the Internet. Come to think of it, they could be wireless.

The second complicating factor is that the manufacturers of these pernicious creatures seem to discontinue previous models in favor of new designs on about a weekly basis. So trying to buy replacement bulbs that match the old ones is futile. One has to settle for something that won't look too weird sprinkled among the old survivors. Either that or you're reduced to buying and installing a completely new set of deck lights. Doubtless they would come with even more sophisticated behavior problems.

But, I'm okay. I've adjusted. I'm not taking my 20-ounce claw hammer to the perpetrators anymore (got tired of sweeping up the glass). I'm just going with the flow, quietly searching thrift shops and yard sales and buying up a wide variety of used replacement deck lights, and cutting back on the ice in my evening cocktails. That, and looking forward to our next power outage.

Music Night (8/6/12) - But life isn't all chores and first aid. For one thing our little musical miracle is still going strong, having just completed 25 years of fun. Our latest collection - Insanity - is in production at the moment, scheduled for delivery at our next event in August. That night's topic will be Number 124 - Fascination. In honor of this topic, I'd like to share a few fascinating facts about Music Night:

--Number of unique recordings (different songs or repeated songs by different artists) that have appeared on a Music Night collection - 4174. 175 of these recordings have appeared more than once including 77 on the Music Night's Greatest Hits set from the first 100 collections. So excluding the Greatest Hits set, for which a recording had to have appeared in a previous collection, 98% of all Music Night selections have been original. Not too shabby.

--Number of evenings the Music Night group has spent together creating collections - 117. On six occasions two collections were made in the same evening.

--Number of evenings making collections with the help of an impressive spread of food and drink - 117. Average calories consumed by the group during a typical Music Night - technically, 0. I think I read somewhere that food and alcohol consumed while listening to music doesn't count.

--Number of individuals who have selected a recording for inclusion in a Music Night collection - 77. The eldest of these was my mother Dolores who made her selection at age 90. She may very well beat that record this summer as she will soon be in Michigan for a visit and will likely attend our next evening. The youngest person to select a recording was undoubtedly one of the children of our group that have joined in the fun. So far there have been 19 of these "next generation" participants, including a boy friend, a girl friend, two spouses and two guest "sons" from Germany. My guess is that the youngest age at which one of these kids made a selection was about 10. We'll have to conduct a little more research to confirm that number. That would give us a span of 80 years between the oldest and youngest participant.

--Number of  venues that have hosted a Music Night evening - 15. Two Music Night families have hosted at two different homes and another at three different homes. That's really a fairly stable record I think, for 25 years.

--Number of participants at our first event in June of 1991 - six, known in the group as charter members. Number of charter members still active - five (one has sadly passed away). Number who have attended all 117 Music Night evenings - one. Guess who. Can't help it. I'm a planner. And I've been lucky.

--Number of rules governing whether or not a music selection fits with the topic for the night - 0. You pick a recording, it's in. 'Cause hey, it's a party. And this rule - the fact that there are no rules - has kept the peace all these years.

Enough catching up for the moment. I'm about to enter another three-week period of doing, most of which will be away from home. But hopefully the mobile Lab will be operational, and generate a post or two.

Grosse Pointe Charles

Trip Chronicle - March 2016, Part 5

I've been off line for a couple of weeks, traveling between family venues checking out different places to sleep. I'm now back in Florida for a few days, and caught up on my research. So it's time to offer the final installment of my report on our March trip.

Before I start on the final chapter, a quick review might be in order. In Part 1 I covered the trip south, complete with some personal memories triggered by certain landmarks along the way. In Part 2 I shared some pics of the new Polynesian Vacation Club facilities as well as the indulgent story of how Nancy and I became WDW annual pass holders. Part 3 explored the interesting world of Florida retirement communities where most of the visiting kids are sixty somethings. And Part 4 covered a senior day at theme parks and why it is that such a counterintuitive phenomenon can even happen. We pick up the action the next morning.

Tuesday, March 15 

Day 9.  Though a breach of senior vacation protocol, we decided to return to the theme parks for a second day in a row eschewing the customary "'tweener" day of rest and rehab (sometimes for the sake of family honor you just have to suck it up). The Dyatts were hot to see Harry Potter so they headed up I-4 to Universal Studios. I have no photo history of their day of magic, but I can report that they returned about 8:00 that evening dragging their wands.

Nancy and I, being of a slightly more cautious ilk, opted for a stroll around the World Showcase. This is one of my favorite Disney activities as it seems like everyone there is on "the old man tour". That would be moving leisurely (no fast passes needed), studying the architectures and exhibits offered by the various countries, shopping, and basking in the beautiful surroundings.

After clearing security and flashing our annual passes (:-), we sauntered up past the big golf ball (Spaceship Earth) and through Future World to the duelling gift shops that mark the entrance to the World Showcase. Feeling our roots, we decided to head counter-clockwise on this visit (west) to Canada and Great Britain. We took in the always impressive 360 film in the Canada pavilion and lunched on fish and chips in an authentic London pub. From there we headed around the promenade to France. Here are a couple of shots from the walk. It was a gorgeous day.  

After a little shopping for French wine and perfumeries, we returned to the promenade and ran into these street performers. We watched them build this unlikely tower out of a table and a few chairs. 

If you look closely, you will see that the chair assembly is built on top of four wine bottles. Unbelievable.

We continued our world tour with a little more exploration and shopping in Morocco and Japan. We then found some shade and a couple of scoops of ice cream, before taking in the multi-media show The American Adventure, another uniquely Disney presentation. This review and tribute to the resiliency of the American spirit, as told by life-like recreations of historical figures (Ben Franklin and Mark Twain, among others), is another Burk family favorite. It's refreshing in this day of reality-show politics and social unrest to spend a few minutes reflecting on the longer arc of where the country has come over the last three centuries. Call me mush. But I've always been a big picture guy.

We agreed to call it a day after The American Adventure, and headed out to catch the trolley to our car. Although we did take a brief detour to ride Spaceship Earth as the lines were down to nearly nothing (a good EPCOT tip - always hit Spaceship Earth on the way out, not the way in; it'll save you at least a half hour).

Upon arrival back at the Treehouse we met up with the Dyatt's and shared the day's adventures over cocktails. And agreed that theme parking three days in a row might not be a good idea.

Wednesday, March 16

Day 10. The group surfaced from slumber leisurely and enjoyed coffee and a light breakfast on the Treehouse deck. After recharging up to a range of 100% (Dave) to about 40% (yours truly), we headed off to Disney Springs (formerly known as Downtown Disney) to see the new offerings, have lunch and shop. 

I remember very little of this day, as I was running on reduced power. Several sensory functions were shut down to protect vital systems. But those needed to walk, eat and find places to sit were kept on-line. I do have a vague memory of cruising down Woodward in a convertible with the top down. But the more I think about it, it may have just been that we had lunch in a booth that looked like the back seat of a '57 Chevy. Not sure.

I did manage to take a couple of pics, as I had periodic mini-bursts of energy (solar-generated, I think). This first one I believe was a little after lunch as the girls (Robyn, Nancy and Mary from left to right) browsed some expensive souvenirs. 

Later we returned to the Treehouse for what has become a traditional cookout on Burk-Dyle-Wyatt vacations. Here's a shot of the service crew in full culinary splendor.

After gorging ourselves on BBQ chicken, pasta salad and ice cream drumsticks, we waddled into the living room and slowly fell into dreamland watching Spotlight (I think, but given my level of consciousness it may have been All the President's Men or Citizen Kane; I'm sure it was something about a newspaper).

Thursday, March 17

Day 11. Arising a little better rested (now back up to about 75%), I begged the others to please drag take me to Universal Studios to experience the joy of The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. The fact that the Wyatts were treating us to tickets had, of course, no impact on my enthusiasm. I am after all a fully qualified Potter nerd, having read the books twice and seen the movies a number of times. So we headed out for what looked to be a very fun day. Little did I know.

The subterfuge was subtle (which I guess is the best kind). The day started out innocently, with a stroll down the main promenade to Diagon Alley, I in my theme park uniform toting the yellow bag.

The first sign that we were approaching wizard country was this secret abode well known to any Potter-phile (12 Grimmauld Place).

Shortly thereafter we found ourselves in the midst of several other familiar edifices two of which are shown below, the latter complete with an escaping dragon.

It was at Gringotts Bank where the sinister plot was hatched. You see Gringotts has a thrill ride within its walls fashioned after the three-rail, high-speed open trolley from the movies. Through a clever combination of live action, surround video and animatronics, riders get to roar their way up, down and through the vault chambers, just like Harry.

Now I'm no expert on thrill rides, as I have previously lamented. But I know rides that put you in a gondola that only has seat belts and/or a safety bar over your lap aren't that bad. The Gringott's bank trolley ride is of this style. So I scrambled aboard. And the ride was fun, keeping the actual twists and turns suffered by riders to a level acceptable for someone of my refined sensibilities. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was being lulled into a false sense of macho.

Feeling frisky from a rush of testosterone way past its best-used-before date, I asked "what's next?" Reigning me back down into my support hose, they told me Hogwarts. To get there we had to take the train.

After we were seated in a fashionable Hogwarts Express compartment, the train pulled out of the station and rolled over the short distance to its destination. The effect was enhanced by a video of passing countryside posing as the window. Very cool.

Upon disembarkation, we headed first to Hogsmeade and the Three Broomsticks for a little lunch. 

Lunch, which for some of us included a little butter beer, was slightly more than light. One could say it was more Hagrid-ish. But it was delicious. However, unbeknownst to me it was all part of the conspiracy. As you will see shortly.

Following lunch was a discussion of the thrill ride inside the Hogwarts castle. Normally I would forego such a ride and spend time exploring and shopping while others took life into their own hands. But having "mastered" the Gringotts trolley, I was pondering (like the hotel commercial) "should I stay or should I go?" So I turned to a (formerly) trusted comrade, and asked if the Hogwarts ride was like the Gringotts ride. 

If I had been on my game, I would have picked up on my comrade's sheepish expression when he uttered, "uh...I...uh...hmmm...sha...sha...shhhhhuuuurrrrr!" Mary did, and promptly sauntered off to protect her sensitive back. I on the other hand, still fogged in by machismo mist, came back with something like, "Well, let's go then." Here's a pic of me pondering my decision as we approached the castle, still trying to defrost the windshield.

Once there, we got in the fairly long line that winds through the garden area and a couple of Hogwarts hallways to the ride entrance. I did note that at a few locations along the line path there were exit doors, through which an occasional potential rider came to his or her senses and bolted. But by the time I figured out what they were doing, we were at ground zero. 

Before I could say Tower of Terror, my wimpy butt had been whipped into what looked like the pilot's seat of an F-14 Tomcat and rendered immobile by the closure of a steel cage around my torso and head. The only thing missing was a helmet with "Maverick" written across the front. It was at that point that I realized I'd been had. I was looking up from the crumb tray of a toaster.

And then life became a blur. I was immediately lifted up and over backwards to the right and rocketed down a series of Hogwarts corridors, out through a stainglass window, high over the castle to the Quidditch field, and...well...I did say it was a blur. All I remember after that was worrying whether I would make it to the end of the ride before my less-than-light lunch made it back up to my soft palate. I think the ride was about an hour and a half. 

Fortunately, my lunch and I both survived this harrowing experience. I even had composure enough to confront the architect of this attack upon my person. But he denied any wrong doing, claiming no memory of his pre-ride assurances (while covering a grin with his right hand and offering me a Tums with his left). 

I will admit that aside from the digestive dilemma, it was kind of fun. The realism of the ride was incredible, and I felt completely safe in my body armor. And I felt I finally had the right to keep the Hogwarts pin (that the kids had given to me the year before) on my yellow bag as a badge of honor. But, I don't think I'll do that ride again soon. Like not in this century.

To restore my metabolism and psyche after my ride on a virtual Nimbus 2000, we took in a few more of the sights offered in the park. Things more my speed, like this. 

And this. A little pirate-guy-meets-pirate-girl acrobatic-fantasy show. Here the bodies flying through the air belonged to other people. Just the way I like it.

Having reached our limit for the day with the pirate pageantry, we gathered our gear and made our escape. We shopped our way out of the park and cruised back down I-4 to the Treehouses. There, we crawled into our respective nests and slept off our third trip to theme parks in the last four days. 

Friday, March 18

Day 12. Our last full day of most vacations is spent resting up from the vacation. This trip was no different. We hung around the Treehouse relaxing, reading, playing online and watching a little TV. A few went to the pool. We were all adjusting our attitudes for the trip home.

Except for me. The day before I had learned that my sister had taken ill, and my mother was in need of some help for a few days in Zephyrhills. So Nancy and I took the the Traverse for the one hour drive to Mom's, picked up my sister's pickup and brought both vehicles back to Disney. That would allow me to return to Zephyrhills on Satuday while Nancy drove home to Michigan to rescue the dog from her temporary quarters and to start on spring house and garden chores.  

We ended the day with our final clean-up dinner (an attempt to devour all remaining foodstuffs that wouldn't travel well) and, of course, a final happy hour. Here's a shot of our group enjoying the closing ceremonies, reviewing the week's activities and making initial plans for the next time. 

Saturday, March 19

Day 13. We packed. We loaded. We left. Thus endeth the trip, and this chronicle.

Post Script. I enjoyed sharing this inside look at our recent vacation, and reliving the adventure again myself. Especially the old memories sprinkled throughout the five posts. 

One of the benefits of writing this blog that I hadn't anticipated are those old memories. What I've learned is that in order to write about something, you have to think about it. Think about it more than when you actually did it. For me, that makes the memories even more meaningful. And writing them down puts them in a place I can find them, and relive them again when I want. It's a hobby I recommend.

Trip Chronicle - March 2016, Part 4

At the end of Part 3, Nancy and I had met up with the Dyles and the Wyatts at Disney's Treehouses resort. We resume with the next morning.

Monday, March 14

Day 8. As this was a theme park day, the crowd stirred fairly early for adults on vacation - 7:30-ish. In the good old days with a passel of kids in tow, we would arise between 6:00 and 6:30 on theme park days, rouse the little darlings, make and pack lunches, pile into the van, and head to the park of choice by 8:00. That would put us at the gates by 8:30 or so just in time for park opening.

Well, these are the good new days. While we stepped lively through the morning routine, it was sort of senior-lively. That means focusing on getting each step of the routine right the first time, to minimize do-overs. And keeping the pack down to just the basics - extra meds (in case of a "silver alert" - I was once lost for a day in the Carousel of Progress), a wrist band with emergency contact numbers (helpful in the event of a hit and run by a double baby stroller), and the usual shawl (those Florida springs can be chilly).

Now I say senior-lively, though the Wyatts are just youngsters in their early 50s. However, to their credit, by hanging out with the Byles so much (that would be the Burks and the Dyles), they have become quite proficient at dropping their keys, accenting their ensembles with foodstuffs, not remembering what they got up and went into the next room for, and dozing off during early evening movies. In short, they've adjusted to the senior lifestyle quite nicely. At least when they're with us.

So, having readied ourselves for the day's adventure, we headed out for a tour of the newly expanded Fantasyland. To get there we drove to the Magic Kingdom parking lot, rode the trolley to the Transportation and Ticket Center, and ferried across the Seven Seas Lagoon. Three rides already and not even there yet :-)

From the ferry dock we cleared security, passed under the WDW Railroad and sauntered up Main Street. Just before Cinderella's castle we bore to the right past the northwestern edge of Tomorrowland, by Cosmic Ray's, the Teacups, and the Grand Prix cars, to the entrance of Fantasyland. Whew. Time for our first break.

This might be a good time to deal with the issue of why I (and many other adults, I think) keep returning to theme parks. This would be in spite of expensive entry fees, large crowds, long lines, and overpriced food. Not to mention those killer strollers (one took my Dad out once - three stitches in his forehead) or occasionally finding yourself in the blast zone of a family in total meltdown (a phenomenon I like to call Survivor Disney). And, isn't it true that the parks hardly ever change? So why go back for the same old thing?

Well, I'm of the philosophy that in life you usually find what you're looking for. So if you're looking to be inconvenienced, overcharged, or bored (or all three), theme parks can certainly satisfy your expectations. But to me, there's more there than potential unpleasantness.

First, there are the memories. Over the years Nancy and I spent many, many hours traipsing around Disney theme parks with our kids. And with rare exception the euphoria of the kids would carry the day. They were so amped just to be there, to see the shows, to be thrilled by the rides, and to enjoy the freedom of what we as parents felt was a safe environment, that they kind of created their own biosphere of joy. Gratefully, we were caught up in it. I can't help but associate the parks with the great feelings I have had there. And those feelings are still with me. Every time I cruise through a theme park gate, they come rushing back. And I feel like I did the very first time.

Then there's the overwhelming variety of things to see and do. Everyone knows the popular thrill rides. At the Magic Kingdom that would be the mountains - Splash, Thunder and Space. At Epcot, you're talking Test Track, Mission: Space, and maybe Soarin' in The Land pavillion. At Hollywood it's Star Tours, the Rockin' Roller Coaster, and the big enchilada - the Tower of Terror. And in the Animal Kingdom there is Dinosaur (formerly the Countdown to Extinction) and the newest roller coaster at Disney World - Everest.

They're all fun (at least that's what my kids tell me). But they're only the glitz. You could hit all of these attractions and not spend more than 30 minutes total (not counting the average of 30 minutes to an hour - depending on the season - waiting in line for each). But what I love is all the stuff you walk through and around to get from one of these thrill rides to the next. The live action shows, the exhibits, the audience participation programs, the Disney character greetings, the street performers, the slow-moving gondola presentations, the themed shopping areas, and even the unique dining experiences (where else can you sink your teeth into a take-out turkey leg, bite into a burger in the back of a Buick, or plough into a pizza in a pachyderm's penumbra). The truth is, there is way more to see, do and digest in each of the parks than can be done in even several visits.

And, contrary to the skeptics, things are changing at Disney all the time. Although it's not always obvious as the big-name attractions and rides are fairly constant. But to the trained eye, one of the most fun parts of a theme park visit is learning of and experiencing those new items. For example, the most popular new item our little group experienced this trip was the new fireworks show at Hollywood Studios. I missed it (as will be explained shortly), but my Bride - a true fireworks enthusiast - said they may be the best she has ever seen, anywhere.

Finally, in addition to the memories and the variety of things to do, there is the physical and mental fitness value of theme parks. I mean it's mall walking on an interplanetary scale. This may seem like a stretch, but you just can't get from here to there in a theme park without blowing out your pedometer. There's also a weight bearing component to the workout due to all the stuff you jam into your backpack to take to the park and the additional souvenirs and tee shirts you buy at the park and carry out.

From a mental health perspective, your brain is in for an active day. You'll find that you're constantly scrubbing neurons and spurring synaptic activity trying to make sense of the little maps Disney passes out at park entrances to confuse newbies. Arguments over the quickest route from where you think you are to where your youngest child wants to be has been known to cause one of those family meltdowns mentioned earlier.

And then there's the team problem-solving activities like "will the left line or the right line be shorter (most Disney rides offer this choice)", "which fast-pass should we get next (you can only have one at a time)", and "should mom or dad contact security to report the missing children". Mentally, a day at a theme park can be very Mensa-esque.

I could go on, but I'll end your pain here. Suffice it to say, to the die-hard Disney-ite it makes perfect sense to get back to theme parks as often as possible. (Remember, my goal wasn't to convince you that my obsession should be yours, but rather to provide you with a first class rationalization for this seemingly odd behavior. I hope I met that standard.)

Time to resume Day 8. When I left off, our little group had stopped for a short break at the entrance to Fantasyland. After a BP and pulse check, we continued into Fantasyland and found Dumbo. Over the years I often heard that Dumbo is the most popular attraction at Disney World, from a ridership perspective. I would believe it based on the historically long lines one finds wrapped around the entrance. To make Dumbo more accessible, Disney has added a second ride (an additional 16 elephants) and an elaborate "big top" playscape that serves as the wait line. Here are a few pics.

First a shot of five well behaved wannabe Dumbo riders, waiting their turn in the playscape "adult" area (we were all too tall to be allowed into the very cool climbing area). 

Having served our time, we were allowed on the ride. Here are the Wyatts (lower elephant) and the Dyles (upper elephant) with huge smiles on their faces as they soar into the pachysphere (I may have put this pic in backwards).

And a shot of me and my Bride in our Dumbo delerium.

Once we came down from our elephantine elation, we were ready for more. This little treasure is next door. Please note the strange dude in the Hawaiian shirt in the lower left corner. Seems like I see him everywhere I go.

The Barnstormer is a rollercoaster for thrill-ride trainees (the 48" rule does not apply). It's also popular on what in our family is known as the "old-man tour" (attractions I used to frequent while the kids rearranged their internal organs on real thrill rides). I think five of us took the 45 second flight with Goofy up over, around and through the barn. (The party who wimped out shall remain confidential - what happens on the senior tour stays on the senior tour).

At this point, our group split into breakouts for independent study and exploration. The Dyles hopped over to the Animal Kingdom to check out a favorite show (Nemo, I think, but my notes are unclear). While the Wurks (that would be the Wyatts and the Burks) meandered over to Tomorrowland for lunch at Cosmic Ray's and a little shopping at Mickey's Star Traders.

We completed our time in Tomorrowland with a spin on the People Mover (formerly known as the Tomorrowland Transit Authority). This ride, another favorite on the "old man tour", is a leisurely second-story run through all of the attractions in Tomorrowland in a gondola powered by linear synchronous motors (like I know what those are). The highlght of this ride is a detour through the dark and eerie confines of Space Mountain, complete with screams and shrieks provided by those high above us "enjoying" their simulated ride through space.

Upon our return to Earth, we headed over to the Fantasyland station of the WDW Railroad for a leisurely ride around the southern end of the park to Frontierland. To accommodate me, actually. You see, I am one of those (nerdy) pin collectors, and I like to acquire the pin for every resort I've stayed at. Missing from my collection was one for the Treehouses.

That particular pin is marketed only to Disney Vacation Club members, and is kept in a drawer with other limited edition selections until asked for by a person with proper ID. And, they are available in only a few places. One of those is the pin store in Frontierland. See where I'm headed with this? Yes, being a Disney nerd has its own special thrills.

After procuring my new pin, we worked our way back through Adventureland, past the Crystal Palace and down Main Street (hitting a few shops along the way) to the park exit. We then trollied, drove and re-trollied our way from the Magic Kingdom to Hollywood Studios. There we treated ourselves to a little ice cream while we waited for the Dyles to rejoin us for a showing of Beauty and the Beast. The plan went smoothly. The Dyles found us right on tme, and the show was as entertaining as always.

One feature of Disney culture that I have not yet commented on is the quality of the performers. They are consistently outstanding, making repeat viewings of the many 30-40 minute live versions of Disney classics found throughout the parks a highlight of every theme park day.

As a follow-up to Beauty, we took in the multi-media Little Mermaid show. This is a part video, part live action and part physical special effects telling of Ariel's quest to grow feet. How romantic can you get. We then moved on to a revisit of the Zootopia short film at the Animation Studio (that Nancy and I had seen the previous week) after which we found ourselves overtaken by hunger.

As we dined on another elegant theme park repast (this one at the ABC Commissary), I realized I was running on fumes. I estimated that I had just enough energy left to make it to the parking lot trolley. And if my calculations were right, I would reenergize during the trolley ride sufficiently to make the walk from the trolley to the driver's side of the car. So I went for it.

Abandoning my park buddies, who were determined to stay and visit the Star Wars-based attactions and see the fancy new fireworks, I headed for the exit. Mary had also reached her limit for the day and decided to join me. I was thankful for the backup.

Mary and I made it safely back to our Treehouse, and even had enough left in the tank to arrange a modest celebration for Dave. It was his birthday. So when he and the others returned later that evening, we surprised him with cake and ice cream. Here's a shot of the birthday boy drooling over his carrot cake (I see that the weird dude in the Hawaiian shirt was still lurking around).

Finally, full of new memories, good feelings, a child's portion of the family brew, and a generous serving of cake and ice cream, we were ready to close the book on another fine theme park day.

I think it's also time to close the book on this post, and publish. See you for the exciting finish to this chronicle coming soon in Part 5.

P.S. There was one other event that happened at the end of the day that was not so wonderful. And in the interest of full disclosure, I feel obligated to share it. While wrestling party materials out of the car, I lost my grip on my cell phone and helplessly watched it tumble end over end until it crashed onto the parking lot asphalt. I had dropped this phone many times before without severe consequences.

But this time, it made a different sound when it hit. Something like a really large bug - Florida grade - hurtling into your windshield at 75 miles an hour. I knew it was bad.

As I slowly reached down and turned the phone over, I found myself the unwilling owner of a strange new piece of art. My display glass was mostly still located in the same geometric plane, but it was way more interesting. It sported I'd say about a linear meter of cracks, masterfully woven into a web-like design that could only be found in nature.

Amazingly, the phone still worked. But the touch screen feature was a little tricky. Fortunately, I travel with band aids.

Grosse Pointe Charles