Memory Lane - Summer to Santa (July to December 1983)

As summer slid into place in 1983, family behavior patterns we have maintained since that time began to solidify. Especially in summer months. Building on our Ipperwash dabbling in '81 and '82, we embraced the cottage life fully in '83. We found ourselves taking every opportunity to build on Nancy's childhood memories at Avon Rae. 

At that time Nancy's parents were retired and spending their summers full time at the lake. So when we joined them for a long weekend or a week's vacation, it was as guests in their (second) home. We always enjoyed their company and were thankful for the time our kids were able to spend getting to know their grandparents. 

But as with most families, Nancy's parents had certain expectations about how things should work in their world. Like how much space beer should take up in the fridge (not very much), how high the volume should be set on the stereo (not very high) and how many kid and adult toys should be strewn around the large common room at any one time (you guessed it - not many). Maintaining behavioral equilibrium between fun and restraint could be tricky. 

None the less, we survived our parental co-habitation years at Avon Rae with only infrequent incident. Like the time I was caught snacking on leftovers that the head chef had earmarked for that evening's dinner (I hadn't gotten the memo). Or the time our dog Heidi ran through the porch screen, despite our pledge of responsible pet management.   

To help reduce such occurrences Nancy and I took to taking long beach walks after dinner (while still a little buzzed from happy hour) to review the days near misses and renew our commitment to inter-generational harmony. After all, our access to the gorgeous sands of Ipperwash was on the line.

Over time, this approach paid great dividends in the form of endless hours playing in the sand and surf and otherwise enjoying the pastoral life of rural Ontario. Not to mention building strong family bonds across three generations. Here are some pics from the summer of '83.

In this first shot we have son Ted and nephew Brian in deep conversation on the beach, no doubt conspiring about how to get an extra Looney (Canadian dollar) for that afternoon's run to the park candy store. 

Oblivious at this age to the candy store ritual, Christine was more concerned about her beach ball skills. First retrieving it from the lake.

And then learning to sit on it. Properly. It can be tricky.

Also sharing the beach that day was a very young cousin Heather (daughter of Nancy's cousin Lynne) taking in her busy surroundings in the safe confines of Aunt Barb's lap. 

Among those surroundings were Nancy, her dad Rae and yours truly giving guidance on the safety features (or lack thereof) on our inflatable boat.

Another common scene was huddling on our family-sized floating mattress trying to get warm after a dip in chilly Lake Huron. That's Nancy's mom Marge looking on.

Typically about an hour before happy hour this happened. All the generations would gather in the shallows for a last taste of Lake Huron for the day. It was sort of pre-happy hour.

Of course it wasn't all fun and games. As with most cottages, there was always a repair or upgrade project in process. Rae was in charge of such activities. Below is a pic of Rae putting the finishing touches on the new patio-block walkway from the parking area to the slab at the rear of the cottage.  

As an engineer, Rae always had a plan for his projects and boasted an impressive array of tools. As a humanities major, I was assigned to those supporting tasks that fit my skill set - lugging things around and shoveling sand when needed. It was a very satisfying partnership.

A few final pics of the beach that summer. First the house, set back from the lake about 80-90 feet but only about eight or nine feet above lake level. A little scary at times. That would all change in the following years as the lake levels rose and fell. Note Marge relaxing on the high ground in her chaise lounger. That's Nancy and Christine playing at the water's edge.

And the kids, totally immersed in the cottage life. Ted, enjoying the lake.

And Christine, learning to be a beach bunny.

Capping off our summer fun was Christine's second birthday, once again celebrated at the lake. There was the usual fanfare. Party games.

Processing new acquisitions.

And of course, cake and ice cream. Chocolate. Fun for the birthday girl and the parents.

Following the summer of fun, the usual fall events and routines took shape. Work was nearing the end of another fiscal year, with all its normal craziness. We were still learning what the changes in seasons means to home owners. Things like furnace maintenance, critters looking for warm places to winter (like your house) and leaves that refuse to gather themselves at the curb for pickup. 

But the big challenge in those early pre-k years was child care. There were plenty of options available. But finding the right one for our work schedules, our particular geography, our (adorable) child's disposition and our budget - could be troublesome. And once settled-in with an acceptable provider, it seemed the situation never lasted too long. Either our needs or the service providers' ability to meet them would change. As a result we found ourselves always keeping an eye out for a better arrangement. 

So it isn't too surprising that with our focus on managing activities those days, we didn't stop and take pictures very often. We did come up for air on occasion, mostly around holidays, and captured a few memorable moments. Here's a glimpse from the closing months of 1983. 

First a brief stop on Halloween. Here are a couple of pics of Christine's first Halloween costume. She wore it as she assisted with the distribution of treats to the ghoulish youth of Dearborn.

She was dressed up as one of the scary things in her life - namely me. My hat, my bowling shirt and my bowling ball. Not too original, but it was a crowd pleaser.

And then on to Xmas. First the traditional shot of our tree, after Santa's visit. Note the combination toy box/art easel on the right. Santa had no trouble assembling this little gem. None. None at all. Really. 

And here we have our little darling Xmas morning overcome with joy at the discovery of an apple ornament on our tree. Paying little heed to the toybox/art easel that Santa painstakingly assembled for her in the middle of the night.

In this pic Dad is working hard to assemble what I believe was called a "Sit 'n Spin" for Christine. Just trying to keep up with Santa.

Here she is on her maiden ride. 

I'm pretty sure this item is still in a box somewhere in our basement storage. Hiding out from current child safety regulations. 

One final shot from the festivities, and one of our favorite early pics of Christine. Happy at two years and four months and starting to get the rhythm of the holidays. 

However, there would be one more chapter to Xmas that year. A couple of days after Ted came to visit between Xmas and New Year's, he woke up looking like this.

No, he wasn't practicing an impression of Alfred E. Newman (although it would have been a good one). Those are  chicken pox blisters. Can you guess what happened next? Yep. Patient No. 2.

So calamine lotion and baking soda baths were at the heart of our New Year's celebration. I remember it fondly. 

That brings us to the end of 1983. Can 1984 be far behind? I hope not. Till then.

Grosse Pointe Charles

Memory Lane - Go East Young Man (May and June 1983)

May of '83 was typical of the "new groove" that our family had settled into. The groove that eventually spawned our long-time vanity plate of "TRPSRUS", short for "TRIPS ARE US" or "TRIPASAURUS" depending on your generation. Influenced no doubt by the fact that during those years we spent a lot of time cruising the aisles of Toys Are Us, the pre-eminent toy store of the '80s. Before the month was over we had been to Buffalo New York, New York City and Trenton New Jersey. In addition I spent a couple of weeks in Hartford Connecticut at a management seminar. As my granddaughter Leili used to say, we were "bissy". 

The Buffalo leg was for a family wedding on Nancy's side. The bride was the daughter of Nancy's dad's cousin. The event was fun for me as I met several of her cousins (and further-removed relations) for the first time. It was a rare opportunity to get to know Nancy's extended family better. Here's just a few pics that may interest my kids. 

The first is of Bob Floyd and Rae Pattinson. Bob was the husband of Nancy's cousin Ruthie Floyd and an all around great guy. We saw Bob and Ruthie frequently through the Ipperwash years as they had their own cottage just up the road in Grand Bend, Ontario. Rae is Ruthie's sister, both daughters of Nancy's Great Aunt Ella on her dad's side. Rae and her husband Bill lived in Wisconsin at the time, and as such we saw them infrequently (yes, there will be a test).

In this picture we have the aforementioned Ruthie sitting with Olive Wilson, another cousin, and on the right Ruthie and Rae's mother Ella Johnson. 

Ruthie is a delightful person, always interested in how everyone is doing and more than willing to host a crowd for lunch at their cottage which sat on a high bluff overlooking Lake Huron.

This picture is of Nancy's first cousin Johnny LeRoy and his wife Debbie. Johnny is the son of Nancy's Uncle Bill, and one of Nancy's brother David's closest friends when they were kids. Although Johnny and Debbie lived in Detroit only a few miles from us at the time, in the hubbub of daily life our paths seldom crossed. So it was fun to get to know them a little better in Buffalo.

This last pic from the wedding is one of our favorites of Nancy's parents. Nancy's dad Rae loved to dance and spoke often of his younger days dancing at the Ipperwash casino. In this shot he and Marge were caught in a private and memorable terpsichorean moment.  

Back in Dearborn, it was time for Mother's Day and Christy's baptism. My parents were in town for the celebration. Here's a pic of the key players enjoying the presents portion of the festivities.  

In between activities Christy continued to grow and learn and do her best to stretch her limits. Here she's engaging in an unorthodox and I'm sure unapproved use of a folding deck chair. This most likely happened when dad was left in charge (a phenomenon that eventually became known as DLS - dad-level supervision).

In mid-May I headed off to Hartford Connecticut for a two-week management course. During the weekend break I rented a car and drove down to Trenton New Jersey to visit our friends Bob Douglas and Patty Cooper who had moved there for work a couple of years earlier. Nancy flew in to join us for the weekend, leaving little Christy with her parents. 

At the time Bob was an analyst in Manhattan, and Patty was a manager in the Philadelphia service center just across the Delaware River. Here's a shot of the couple as we prepared for an afternoon in the Big Apple. 

Those of you who worked for the IRS in Detroit in the '80s would certainly remember them. They were active in Collection Division social circles and big party throwers. Not that they threw a lot of parties, but the ones they did throw were big. Large crowds, large music, large bottles of liquid attitude and often lasting long into the night. This picture of me attempting a Bob Seger impression was taken at one of those parties. 

You get the idea. Anything went. Of course, this interesting couple wasn't just about wild parties. They each had their peccadillos, especially around work issues. But they were always good friends to Nancy and me, and it was lots a fun to see them again. 

On the Saturday of our visit we took the train into Manhattan to see the sights. That included a trip to the top of this impressive edifice.

The view was pretty impressive, too. Or should I say scary. Especially looking down.

Here's a shot Nancy and me "enjoying" our tourist experience at 1377 feet in the air. The open air. Outdoors. Yikes.

What this picture doesn't show is the death grip my right hand has on the railing. And actually, I was smiling. Inside.

We followed up our high-wire act with some more down-to-Earth attractions. Like the lobby clock at the Waldorf-Astoria. 

The lobby of Trump Tower (who knew).

And mingling with some locals. I think this was some sort of service organization. Or something. They seemed nice.

We recovered from our travels with lunch at a popular spot. I was searching for an ATM while this picture was taken. I gather from the name that it was open year-round.

Here's a final shot of Patty, Bob and Nancy after lunch, looking for a ride back to the train station. Too tired and full of high-toned cuisine to walk anymore. And just enough money left for cab fare.

We made it back to Bob and Patty's house in Trenton just fine. And speaking of the house, let's take a look. It wasn't just a house but a 19-room mansion in an old restored section of Trenton. Some pics.

Just a cozy bungalow for two. That's Bob in the lower right, taking a breather after the lengthy hike around the grounds.  

Actually, as I recall Bob and Patty were able to get by using only 15 of the rooms. They rented out four rooms on the third level to some college students. That made things a little cramped, but tolerable.

Back to our adventure. Having survived the city that never sleeps, we donned our civies and relaxed. The girls found some comfy chairs. 

While Bob fired up his elaborate entertainment center for some mood music.

In his Detroit days, Bob was known for his audiophile tendencies. The usual playback devices were present, of course (phonograph, cassette deck, reel-to-reel tape recorder). But supplementing these were multiple tube power amps, two equalizers, a DBX decoder and an array of high-end speakers distributed around his 20' by 40' living room. He even had a little device that would ionize the air just above the tonearm of the turntable. For this, and a few other eccentricities, there's a picture of Bob in the dictionary next to the expression "over the top". But - the man could party.  

The weekend spent, I packed my gear into my rental car and headed back to Hartford for week two of my training class. Bob took Nancy to the airport. 

While navigating my way through New York City, I took this shot. Not sure which bridge it is. They're all big. And scary.  

It's my proof that I once did drive in the Big Apple. An event that will likely not be repeated.  

After all the travel in the previous months, we were ready to settle in for some home time. I should more appropriately say "homes" time, as we routinely floated between the Dearborn house, my parents' home in Linwood and the cottage on Ipperwash beach. 

We caught some good weather during a visit to Linwood in June and took some pics. This first one is of my parents' dog at the time, normally referred to as Reka. 

Reka's actual name was Eureka, because she was found as a stray. She was a playful little fluff ball around whom my parents structured much their lives. Or so it seemed. She fit into their lifestyle well as they traveled up north and to Florida pretty regularly. She was a good rider.

We had a couple of other good riders with us on the visit. Ted and Christy had a good time frolicking in the budding summer sun in my parents' generous back yard.

This brings us to the summer of 1983 and some good times at the family cottage. We'll resume with that story in my next post.

Until then, here's hoping the spring of 2022 gives way to warmer weather soon. It's a little late in the year to be sitting by the fire - indoors.

Grosse Pointe Charles 

What - Me Worry?

A few weeks ago during a conversation with friends I happened to mention that I don't worry much about the future. I was asked how that could be in the face of the many national and global crises we are facing. Good question, but I managed an answer. In circuitous fashion I explained that 1) there's a lot of good people doing good things in the world, and 2) I am more focused on how I deal with the world than how it deals with me. 

First a little context. Those of you who grew up about the same time I did will remember this guy.

Alfred E. Neuman, the icon of Mad Magazine, was a blissfully ignorant soul floating through life without a care because he had no idea of what was happening to him or anyone else. His motto was the title of this post. 

Alfred provided a lot of comic relief in his day, and in his mischievous way kept us from taking life so seriously. With today's 24-hour cable news, online alerts, reality shows and fractured social media, blissful ignorance is nearly impossible. Nor, I might add, is it really desirable. It's good to know what's going on. But I try not to let bad news dominate my life.

Another fictional hero of mine is this guy from the movie Harvey - one Elwood P. Dowd.

Elwood's carefree nature came from a firm belief that the way to get through life was to be extremely pleasant. Always. To everyone. No matter what. He did pretty well in the movie, partially because he had a pooka (large imaginary rabbit) to help him when he faced tough choices. I see two problems with this approach. One, most of us don't have a pooka. And two, just being pleasant would likely not be enough in today's world. 

To this last point, let's do a quick review of the bad news that's getting most of the daily coverage: the pandemic is morphing into endemic status, politics has become the purview of self-serving Pied Pipers, civility and civic duty seem to be going the way of the dodo, and now the Russian emperor is channeling Adolf Hitler. So how can we keep all this bad news from driving us to depression and hopelessness? Short of slipping into blissful ignorance or happening upon a pooka?   

For starters, it helps to be an optimist by nature (which I get from my mother). By that I mean I try to look at adverse situations thoughtfully, and avoid searching for blame or feeling put upon. Rather, I start looking for ways to minimize consequences and fix things. It feels good to be helping. There's always time down the road for a post-mortem on how to protect the future.

If you are not naturally optimistic, your hill is a little steeper to climb. But with some introspection and a little practice, that can change. Of course, there's more to reducing worry and preserving positive feelings than just being an optimist. One's view of how the world works matters a lot. Here's how my view of the world helps me stay on the sunny side. 

The big picture. It's helpful to understand how we all fit into what I call The Big Picture. For my part, I break down our complex society into two groups of people - influencers and navigators. 

I define influencers as people who by political station, wealth or broad popularity can personally influence our American culture. They are for the most part politicians, billionaires (our American oligarchy), media moguls and personalities, and religious icons. People dominating the news. Every once in a while sports or entertainment figures may emerge as influencers, but their impact is most often limited to a particular cause or issue. 

Influencers have special powers, privileges and responsibilities. The laws, rules and norms of society within which the rest of us have to survive are (IMHO) largely decided by influencers. I can't imagine the worries that plague influencers, knowing that their decisions and actions will impact so many lives. They should be and usually are worried about the big picture and should be prepared to do something to improve it. Big-time worrying is part of their roles, and they signed up for it.

I realize some influencers have succumbed to the narcissism of power and only worry about keeping it and getting more. But most I believe truly try to make things better for the rest of us (well, maybe not the oligarchs).

Navigators are those whose plight is limited to getting by within the world defined by the influencers. In other words, most of us. My point is that whether by choice or by fate, navigators are as a rule not equipped as individuals to move the needle of history. Navigators can certainly interact with influencers through letters, public hearings, protests, contributions of time or money, voting. But I accept that these actions are indirect, with unknown actual impact. As such, I don't worry about them. I just try to do those things that feel right, and move on. 

This is not to say that as a navigator I feel powerless. There are lots of things I do have the power to impact. My family, my friends, my community, and most importantly my own behavior. And with that power comes responsibilities - and worries. But these are good worries. Worries that raise my awareness of situations that could benefit from my involvement. More on good worries in moment. First let's go back to the good people mentioned in my intro.

Underneath all of the ballyhoo of the influencers are millions of people going about their business making the world better. Most of these individuals fall into my navigator category. They are health care workers, public safety workers, research scientists, school teachers, humanitarians, government employees at all levels - I could go on. But you get the picture. 

These individuals don't often make the daily news, but they are there. Working steadily and constantly improving our lives, undeterred by global crises or bad actors in high places. It is my belief that the collective works of these everyday heroes over time are the true drivers of our future. And I try to follow their lead. 

Structure is my tool of choice for navigating the world I live in. And good worries are an important part of it. Years ago I sorted out my life priorities. I then developed goals, strategies for achieving those goals and mechanisms for tracking progress (the Franklin system actually). 

Good worries arise when my tracking reveals that one or more of my strategies aren't having the desired effect. My natural response is to think through the problems and try to get back on track. The worries are the trigger. The good feeling of doing something to solve a problem quickly turns the worry to a sense of control and confidence that the system works. 

Of course, like everyone, I have bad moments. Sorrow for those suffering here and around the world. Anger at those who in my opinion are the cause of the suffering. Even worry about how it will all turn out. Only natural. But after a short while my optimism kicks in. I find myself reviewing the logic laid out above, and I right the ship. And move on to something constructive.

I do have a few specific things I do to keep upbeat. All are squarely in a navigator's wheelhouse. The first is to work on my fitness. When I eat right, exercise and get enough sleep, all my systems run better. Including those coping skills needed to address worries.

Second, I spend time on hobbies almost everyday. Good music, a favorite movie or a good hour squeezing my accordion really pumps out the endorphins. A good book can also raise spirits. 

I like books on newly discovered history as they improve my understanding of how the world really worked in the past. I also like books on scientific breakthroughs for the glimpse they provide on how life might look in the future. A good spy novel or Stephen King thriller can also be fun. 

Finally, I share my good feelings with anyone who'll let me. Optimism can be contagious. Nancy and I entertain a lot, travel to see friends and family all we can, and keep each other abreast of how we are doing ourselves everyday. And of course, there's the blog. 

So my secret's out. I'm okay with that. And whatever you're worrying about, it'll work out. At least that should be your operating assumption.

Stay safe.

Grosse Pointe Charles