2016 Part 1 January-February

Last year I began a tradition of summarizing each year's activity in a series of posts. This is a supplement to my ongoing plan of preparing photo summaries of all past Burk family years as I progress through my (woefully behind) project of digitizing our family slides. And, as 2017 is now nearly one third in the books, I need to get on with my 2016 review. So here goes.

January

As has been our way for a number of years now, Nancy and I awoke on New Year's Day on Captiva Island, just off the coast of Ft Myers, Florida. This delightful habit has been enabled by our good friends Robyn and Dave who have hosted us over the New Years holiday most years since the mid-90s.

After a day of college football, and renewal of 2015's unfulfilled resolutions for the new year (saves having to come up with new ones), we headed north to my mother's in Zephyrhills. Here is the first picture of the year - me with my two buddies Lacy on the left and Baxter on the right.  

Baxter was my mother's dog of 11 years. I say was as Baxter has since gone to that luxury puppy spa in the sky. More on that later. Lacy was the dog of my sister Wendy and her daughter. But through a chain of unforeseen events, Lacy had relocated to Carnation Lane and become Baxter's live-in partner. She was almost 10 years old at the time of this picture.

But the real story of January was my discovery of the Pasco County Recycling Center. I need to back up a bit to tell this story properly. In 2013 my Dad purchased a house in Zephyrhills and rented it to a family member at a bargain price. The idea was to provide this family member a head start as she worked to establish credit, obtain a mortgage, and buy the house from him. A well-intended plan. But due to unfortunate circumstances (one of which was the family member losing her job due to a fire at her place of employment), the plan didn't work out. So by May of 2015, the house was standing idle and in a state of disrepair.

My sister Wendy is pretty handy from a house maintenance perspective. So she took the lead on cleaning up the house, installing a few improvements, and in general getting it ready to sell. By late 2015, it was ready to go on the market except for one thing. The residue from all the fix-up work was piled up inside of and around a freestanding shed in the backyard. And it looked very unappealing.

Enter the purge king (moi). As part of my holiday trip to Florida, it became my job (due to a well-documented obsession with neatness and order), to remove the impressive accumulation of rubble to shall we say a more appropriate spot. The first step of course was to sort through the debris, salvage anything that might have future value, and prepare the rest for transport. Here are some shots of the problem. First, inside the shed.

And outside the shed.

And some shots after the cleanup.

The whole thing took the better part of a day, including organizing the items to be relocated using my sister's pickup. First, the inventory.

And the load. This was actually one of two loads it took to complete the job,

Now, the fun part. Actually getting rid of all this stuff. Enter the Pasco County Recycling Center. A very cool place.

I have had previous experiences delivering materials to landfills, or what I knew in earlier years as dumps. But I had never seen anything like the PCRC. There were no dirt roads riddled with twisted metal and broken glass winding around nondescript piles of refuse. No garage-sized bulldozers pushing mounds of detritus hither and yon. And no tell-tale aroma of decay, as life's expired treasures are burned and/or plowed under.

No. The PCRC is like a modern theme park. There are smooth, concrete passageways, brightly painted activity centers, and "cast members" in neat uniforms stationed at key locations to help you enjoy your recycling experience. Here is a shot of the entrance. Looks more like the gateway to the Magic Kingdom than the "final destination" for tired and no longer wanted possessions.

And here I am at my first "activity station" (#6), properly gloved and anxious for the fun to begin. Note the super clean surroundings complete with overhead protection in the event of inclement weather.

As you can see from this shot, each station is really a concrete portico with a half wall, over which you pitch your items. Yes, you actually get to "throw" your items away, like this unfortunate futon. Can you tell from my expression the primordial joy that this experience can awaken?

I'm told that at the point you release your grip on an item and it clears the wall, that it's customary to utter an appropriate farewell message to the victim. Something like "good riddance" or "you're toast". Here I am honoring this local ritual with full vigor. I think my parting expression was "have a nice day".

As you can see from this additional shot of the futon's demise, these disposal stations are actually elevated above jumbo-sized dumpsters into which the flung items are supposed to land. A sad end for the flotsam of daily life. But tidy.

The highlight of my tossing that day was definitely the last stop - bathroom fixtures. Here I am toying with this jewel of a disposable item, muttering insincere words of comfort as I let it teeter on the brink, it not knowing exactly when the final push would come. It was shortly after I let this poor creature tumble away in confusion that I realized that lingering too long in a state of purge euphoria can bring out one's dark side.

And what about items too large to toss, you ask? They've thought of that, too. There is an area where large items (stoves, refrigerators, Chevies) can be unloaded. Neatly, of course.

You can't see him in this shot, but just out of the picture on the left was the guy who had the best job at the PCRC. He's in a front-end loader that he uses to smash the recently delivered items (in front) into smaller, more manageable shapes (the stuff piled up in the back). How fun is that.

I'll end the tale of my discovery of the Pasco County Recycling Center with this shot of my happy client - Mom - congratulating me for completing the job. I think I can expect some repeat business.

After the grueling "rubbish runner" ordeal, Nancy and I headed off to one of our favorite haunts, Disney's Vero Beach resort, for a few days of R&R. On the way we stopped by the Market Place at Disney World for lunch and a little shopping. What we discovered was a lot of construction on new stores, parking ramps and yet another redesign of the corner of Buena Vista Drive and Hotel Plaza Boulevard at the Southeast corner of the Disney Springs shopping complex. That corner now features walkovers to the hotels and additional parking. For those of you familiar with that corner, here are a couple of shots of the new look.

 

After lunch, we headed on down to Vero. The resort was of course all decked out for the holidays as shown in these pics of the main lobby.

We spent most of our time there relaxing, enjoying the view and taking the sea air. The beach was spectacular, as always. Here I am on a beach walk in my typical Florida winter garb - shorts and a hoodie.

The nice thing for retirees about walking on the beach is that it's hard to get lost. Not of that embarrassing silver alert stuff.

One moment of excitement during the Vero visit was an unusual lunch. Nancy and I had taken a drive down the coast for a seafood lunch by the ocean. We had just ordered when we saw this impressive conveyance in the parking lot.

No, it wasn't the local firehouse stopping in for a bite. There was actually a fire in the kitchen, according to our waitress. No alarm was sounded. No evacuation through the closest exit. No stop, drop and roll. It was sort of a "swelter in place" protocol. A half dozen or so large burly types in what must have been 90 pounds of equipment each walked demurely through the aisles and went into the kitchen. Like, nobody would notice. We and the other patrons (restaurant was about one-third full as I recall) just kept chatting like there was nothing happening. About 15 minutes later, the firemen emerged from the kitchen and waltzed back through the front door to their truck and drove off. I've wondered since if it all was just a creative floor show to entertain the tourists.

Having recharged our batteries after a few days in the sun, Nancy and I had an uneventful trip back up north. The weekend after our return we made our customary mid-January trip to Wiser Times to check on things. This time we were joined by Cathy and Matt who were looking for a little getaway time. Here they are playing some sort of game from "a galaxy far far away". It looked a little complicated. More pieces than my original Erector set.

So I headed out for a little fresh air and a walk around the place looking for things that might make the spring fix-up list. It's fun to traipse around in the snow at the cottage in January. Fun for about 15 minutes.

The following weekend we were back up north with our friends Robyn and Dave at their Petoskey condo for what has for years been a joint family ski weekend. Nancy and I don't ski, but our kids do and they have always loved taking advantage of this opportunity to trade parents for a couple of days. So while Robyn and Dave would take their kids and ours to the slopes, Nancy and I would enjoy shopping and dining out in this quaint community. The kids aren't around as much these days, but the parents are keeping the tradition alive. Here's a shot of Nancy and I with Dave reunited for happy hour and dinner after a day of parallel play. I think Robyn was soaking in the hot tub.

Upon returning home from our trip to Petoskey, I returned to Florida for a few days to attend the closing of the sale of my mother's rental house (the one that led to my great rubbish adventure). After the clean up, it sold quickly. We were so excited to have unloaded sold this troublesome property that no one had the presence of mind to take pictures. But it was the perfect finale to a fun month.

February

We spent most of the month of February at home sitting by the fire, avoiding ice and snow as much as possible, and catching up on hobby projects. Coco sort of captured the spirit of the month for us with this fairly regular evening pose. Can you say happy dog?

We did take a long weekend that month to see my son Ted and his kids in Austin. We had a great time sharing parenting duties for a few days and seeing how much the kids had grown since the previous summer. I took some pride in demonstrating a few trampoline stunts for the kids. Here they are trying what I call an upright double quantum leap with an ankle twist (I had performed one myself earlier, but it went undocumented as the kids couldn't figure out how to take a picture on my android phone - they're Apple people).

Here they are, coming over to get their scores. They both were awarded 10s. And as you can see in the first pic, Leili is getting to know the tooth fairy (totally not connected to her trampolining - I swear). 

We spent an afternoon at the park during the visit. Here are some shots. First Cyrus showing his versatility.

Here Ted and Grandma are assisting on swings.

And the grandparents, happy to be in the Texas sun in February.

And the perfect ending to a day of fun at the park - happy hour. The kids with their form of escapism.

And the parents with theirs.

On the last day of our trip, we relaxed a bit with indoor activities. Here I am getting destroyed at a game of Princess, by the princess in residence.

Here Cyrus has invited us into his Lego universe. He tried explaining what everything was and how it works but I kept glazing over, longing for my Lincoln Logs.

My sister Wendy came to Michigan for a visit the last weekend in February and to attend an Il Volo concert. For the uninitiated, Il Volo are three young Italian tenors with world class pipes. Both my sisters are wannabe groupies. Here I am with Wendy and Cindy all gussied up and heading to the Fox.

To keep the length of this post from getting out of hand, I'll go ahead and publish Part 1. Part 2 will resume with the very interesting month of March.

Grosse Pointe Chuck

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.
___________

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