Memory Lane - Holidays in the Pointes (October to December 1986)

I closed my last post lamenting my lack of pictures of our September '86 move to Grosse Pointe. Apparently, the mysterious forces behind that photographic lapse weren't easily overcome. It would be mid-October before our photo history would resume with these few shots taken during my parents first visit to our new house.

Here Cathy is entertaining Grandpa Burk in the new family room, telling him all about her new world. The little black dog in my father's lap is BB (short for Black Beauty, a pure-bred toy poodle who brought joy to my parents' lives for 17 years).

In this next shot I appear to be sharing something interesting with Ted and Cathy. Not sure what. Maybe a list of dos and don'ts for proper behavior in the new house. Based on the firm grip Cathy has on the arm of the sofa, I believe she was in her "furniture cruising" stage. 

As a septuagenarian, I've found those old cruising skills have returned. Especially when navigating a room strewn with dog toys and Nylabones the same color as the carpet.   

Here Christine is cruising through the new neighborhood in her own way - Dad-powered kid limo.

Halloween brought the camera out again for these classic shots. First our little pumpkin in an encore appearance of her '85 costume. Hey, stay with a winner.

The school parade was always a crowd pleaser, for parents as well as the kids. Sort of a dress(up) rehearsal for the big event.

Things picked up a little more in November as family members settled into their new routines. Cathy worked on her farm animal recognition and kiddy-car parking skills.

Christine waded knee-deep into her Speak and Spell, an early version of a talking interactive learning toy. A little person inside tells you if you spell something right. At least that's what we told our curious kindergartener.

The Speak and Spell and its more advanced partner Speak and Read are both still alive and waiting in the kid's toy box for the next generation. 

I, too, was adjusting to my new routine of commuting to work from the east side of the city. I was conflicted. Should I jump on I-94 and join the morning rush? That way takes about 20 minutes (to go 13 miles). Also, a lot of braking and honking are involved.

Or, should I cruise (there's that word again) along Lake Shore Drive and Jefferson Avenue, taking in the ambiance of stately mansions, the Belle Isle vista and a host of riverfront high rises. Also, some urban renewal zones, stinky buses and 21 traffic lights. That route takes 30 minutes (to go 12 miles).

In this shot Christine and I, dressed for school and work respectively, are discussing the commuting dilemma.  

Thinking back, I remember many times not deciding which way to go until I reached the end of my driveway. Left to I-94 and the stress of the freeway, or right to Lakeshore Drive and the stress of maybe being late? In the end, over the 25 years I commuted from 651 Vernier to downtown Detroit, I think it was about 50-50.

This next shot is a family classic. As Christy was attending Ferry school and adapting to a new world of structure, Cathy was doing this. Structure was not involved. Early on she was definitely into "everything everywhere all at once".

In the '80s, a fashionable approach to child-rearing was environmental control. Rather than teach (read discipline) our little darlings not to go places or touch things that they shouldn't, we physically modified our living areas so they couldn't. Baby gates, cupboard locks, electrical outlet covers, child-proof bottle caps, and more. Failure to take such measures could easily brand you as an irresponsible parent.

The picture above is an example of this philosophy. Note the height of the crib mattress above the floor. It's 14 inches. I know that because that's where I drilled the extra holes in the head and foot boards to lower the mattress. It was the only way we could keep Cathy from climbing out of her crib. 

Before I lowered the mattress she was quite adept at climbing up on whatever was in her crib and vaulting herself over the rail for the roughly four-foot fall to the carpet, and freedom. We weren't too fond of that move even though it did indicate an early spark of ingenuity and determination. 

We hosted family Thanksgiving that year, happy to show off our new digs. The pictures didn't turn out that well. Thankfully, the turkey did. Here's a shot of the adults - from left to right Nancy's brother Dave and his bride Barbara, yours truly in a Norman Rockwell moment, and Nancy's parents Rae and Marge. That's Nancy behind the camera.

It was the first service of our kitchen snack counter as the kid's table. Left to right are nephews Brian and Matt with daughter Christine. Definitely a rose between two thorns.

At (or rather in) the kid's-table annex was our other rose, Miss Cathy. She seems to be participating fully in the holiday conversation. Either that or she's unhappy with the wait staff. 

With the first formal event of the holiday season in the books, the family continued to adjust to our new life. There was the new house thing, sure. But of more interest were the girls. Christy adapting to a her formal schooling, and Cathy blossoming under the loving care of her parents.

So, how do I explain this?

Or this.

Or worst of all, this.

The answer is obvious. Even the most rigorous home child-proofing cannot overcome DLS (dad-level supervision). On the bright side, it's very possible that children learn important survival skills while in the care of their fathers. On behalf of fathers everywhere, that's our story and we're sticking to it.

Early December passed pretty quickly into the dreaded decorating period. I previously documented my feelings about the holiday season in a three-part post starting in January of 2019 (The Launch). 2018 had ended with a rather arduous couple of months, and I took my weariness out on my readers. 

1986 was much more relaxed. It all happened slowly. But even then I could sense where our family holiday routine was headed. It all starts with this. Ground zero for Santa.

Next we moved to assembly of our artificial tree. We had real trees the first couple of years in Dearborn, but gave up on that adventure when I realized I had developed an allergy to pine needles. 

The newest member of the family was quite taken with the whole idea of a tree inside the house.

Taken, yes. Helpful, no. She spent most of the tree-raising time playing among the unassembled components. But, still pretty cute. Or should I say - impish.

We each had our role to play in this annual ordeal tradition. I fulfilled mine with typical panache. 

Actually, my primary role then as it is now was to pull all of the holiday paraphernalia from its hiding place and distribute it to its designated locations. In 1986 all our stuff was wedged into an attic storage area that I had to crawl into. The process involved a lot of head bumping and knee scraping and then wrestling a mishmash of boxes and bags down a flight of stairs. 

I'm not sure if the above picture is of me steeling my nerves for the task or soothing my wounds from the task. I don't see any band aids or ice packs so I would assume this was before. The good news is that after the 2018 debacle (described in the previously mentioned posts), we relocated all of the holiday decorations to a closet on the main floor. Way better. Duh.

The fact that Christine had started school with Cathy soon to follow also meant that our family was about to embark on that (at least) 16-year journey of parent-teacher conferences, school concerts and plays, and other social events. First up - a local ritual called "Breakfast with Santa". It involved taking the kids to a pancake breakfast at the elementary school after which everyone stands in line to see Santa. Fun. A couple of pics. 

First, the line for pancakes. This may have been Cathy's first experience in a crowd. She took it all in quietly, with wide-eyed interest. 

Christine on the other hand was into it, giving Santa a thorough briefing on her Christmas needs.

In this final pic from the pre-Christmas period, Christine is gleefully dancing to holiday music fully immersed in the moment. I on the other hand (the red lump on the sofa) appear to be sleeping it all off.

The weekend before Christmas we journeyed north to Linwood to hang with my parents. My brother Jeff was also there with his family. Holiday visits with Wendell and Dolores were always quite informal. A few beers, some friendly cribbage, and usually a family board game around the kitchen table. A few pics. 

First, some pre-activity quiet time. In the foreground niece Dee Dee is playing with the small stash of toys my parents maintained for just such occasions. Behind her Ted is getting mentally prepared for the competition to come. 

Here my brother Jeff is explaining the rules of a game we are about to play to Cathy. Dee Dee is following along to make sure her dad gets it right.

In this shot the game is afoot. Fully engaged from left to right are Ted, yours truly, Christine and Nancy.

I can't remember what we were playing. I remember the green spinning wheel in the left foreground, but not the name of the game. Maybe Christine or Cathy will help us out here.

In this final shot from that evening, it looks like one of us had done better than the other.

Back home, the big day was finally here. Our first Christmas in our forever home. It was a good one. Cathy was now old enough to mostly get what was going on, and Ted was still young enough to fully embrace the magical side of the day. Christine was in her Christmas prime (and for the record has never left it).

Here's a shot of the night before. Our first Christmas with a proper place to hang stockings. The little one was busy dreaming of sugar plums. 

Of course, Santa's helper had a few last minute assignments. Our Schnauzer-mix Heidi is standing guard.

And, Voila! Two months of planning, decorating, shopping, wrapping, hiding surprises and waiting is finally over. Now if the kids will just forget what day it is tomorrow and sleep in. Yah, right.

They didn't forget. But, they waited until a respectful 7:30 which became our Christmas morning tradition. Here are the kids in the required group picture before the fun begins.

What ensued was an extended session of unwrapping, enjoying and appreciating a generous collection of gifts. Here are a few highlights.

What's better than a new dress for a budding fashionista.

Or Metroplex for a transformer aficionado.

Or a Cabbage Patch kid for a new mama.

For Mom it was the thrill of having your kids sharing in your own excitement.

And as usual, Dad was ecstatic to receive something he could put together. Excellent.

At the end of the revelry, the living room looked like this. 

The dog and maybe Cathy are in there somewhere, I think. And I'm pretty sure there was a little pick-me-up in my eggnog as I contemplated where to begin with the cleanup.

By 1:00 we had recovered sufficiently to get dressed, pile into the car and head off to Ann Arbor to celebrate with Nancy's side of the family. A few pics.

First, a gathering around the tree to catch up and share our Christmas stories. One of us had received a football uniform. Guess who.

We then moved to the main event - Christmas dinner. It was an impressive kids' table with Ted, Brian, Matt (still in uniform) and Christine with her back to the camera. Not sure where Cathy was during the photo op. Maybe napping, not quite recovered from the morning's activity?

 

And the adult table, with the usual players - Nancy, brother Dave, hostess Barb, and Nancy's parents Rae and Marge. It was a thoroughly enjoyable finale to our Christmas festivities. 

Pretty much partied out, we made our way back home and settled in for the holiday week. The pace of life slowed dramatically as indicated by these final pics of 1986. We adults worked on tidying up and incorporating our new stuff into our household,  

Meanwhile, the kids enjoyed a slightly less-attentive level of supervision. 

We did feed them and made sure they were in the house. But mostly we let them work on those independent survival skills mentioned above. 

This last pic sums up our family mood as 1986 came to a close - life was good. 

On to 1987.

Grosse Pointe Charles

Memory Lane - Movin' on Up...to the Eastside (January to September 1986)

Just like George and Wheezy (Louise) Jefferson, if you recall. Without the chain of dry cleaners.

I chose the title for this post based on the fact that the biggest Burk family event of 1986 was our trans-Woodward migration from Deer-burn (as the locals say it) to The Pointes. We originally moved to Dearborn because I was working in the Dearborn IRS office and Nancy was working in Ann Arbor. The location made for reasonable commutes. But by 1986 we were both working in Downtown Detroit, so the commute was no longer an issue. 

It had always been our plan to return to Grosse Pointe by the time the girls reached school age. Christine was just about there, so we pulled the trigger. At that time houses were selling before the listings were published. Realtors were working mainly from faxes. It was crazy. 

We saw about 15 homes through the month of April, but nothing clicked with us. Then we got lucky. We saw 651 Vernier the day the listing came out. Loved it and put in our offer by mid-afternoon. By early evening we had reached agreement on a price with the seller and signed a contract. But then we shifted from overdrive to a crawl. Because the appraisal industry was so far behind due to the pace of sales, it took until late August to close. It was nerve wracking, but it all worked out.

While moving to The Pointes was a return to the nest so to speak for my Bride, it was a whole new ball game for a Bay City boy and his little brown pickup truck (with no interior trim package - very un-Pointes-like).   

I actually got a speeding ticket my first weekend in The Pointes, right in front of my house. I had pulled out of my drive and hadn't gone more than two blocks. The cop who pulled me over said I was doing 39 in a 35 zone or something like that. But I think we - I and my Chevy S-10 club cab - were profiled as "obviously not from around here". Which of course at that time, we weren't. 

True, Nancy and I had lived just down the street in Harper Woods the first year we were married. But that was a rental. We weren't even on the tax rolls. Hardly counts.

The irony is that despite my vivid memories of everything that move entailed, I can find no pictures to document it. My gut says that we took pictures, but there are none in our extensive slide library nor in our print collections. There was not even a picture of the house in the real estate listing. The house sold before they could take one. As a substitute, I offer this picture taken the following spring. Things hadn't changed that much since the move. Note the itty-bitty weeping cherry tree. 

About the no-pictures thing, our move was right about the time we retired our old camera and went to 35 mm. We may have mislaid an exposed roll of film or two in the transition. Or we just might have been too embroiled in move issues to remember to take pictures. So I'll have to rely on my memory when we get to August and September.

The camera we retired was sort of cool. It was Pentax 110 with a lot of features like its big brothers. It had flash, telephoto and panoramic lens attachments and had been a wedding gift from very close friends.

But, even as a low-brow snapshot photographer I'd grown weary of the limitations of the small 110 film. So, we upgraded to this 35 mm baby.

Of course, by today's standards both of these devices are pretty dinosauric. But in the '80s and '90s they served us well, as did a few successor 35 mm instruments. Surprisingly, I had a habit of dropping them over the sides of canoes, leaving them on car roofs (as I was stuffing an offspring into her car seat) or spilling an assortment of beverages on the lenses. 

My review of the available images from 1986 revealed that in addition to a lack of pics of our move, most of the year was lightly documented. There were two exceptions. Cathy's first birthday and Christmas. Plenty of pics for those events.

An example of how lightly documented parts of 1986 were, here is the entire photo collection from early January until the end of March. 

In retrospect, I guess this shot of Christine in her snow outfit (a la Randy from The Christmas Story) and Cathy in her bathing routine pretty much cover the bulk of our family activities over the winter. 

April saw a little more excitement due to the Easter holiday. Nancy's parents Rae and Marge joined us in our Dearborn Baby Ford for a social hour and dinner. Here are a couple of pics of the kitchen staff assisting with meal prep. In this first shot Christine is waiting for her next assignment. You can tell because she has her coordinated sweater and work barrettes on (as some of you likely know barrettes and other hair accoutrements have always been a big part of Christine's persona).

Here is her apprentice enjoying the action and looking forward to the day when she'll be sporting her own work barrettes.

Then there were the traditional multigenerational pics with everyone holding everyone else, within reason.

Grandma Marge with Cathy.

Grandpa Rae with Christine.

And Nancy and I with both of our little darlings.

It was a fun day and a forerunner of Easters to come.

May wasn't quite as exciting as April, but there was Mothers Day. Here are a few pics. The focus was on the newbie it appears. Here's Cathy just happy to be invited to another party.

In this shot she's in her walker, beginning to grasp the concept of mobility. And liking it. 

And here she is in a familiar position, gnawing away on a teething ring while sorting through all the new experiences. 

For Christine, Mother's day brings some guilty pleasures. A little private time with Mom.

And a rare opportunity to play outside in your party dress.

It was about this time that Christine began to grow into her new role of big sister, mentoring Cathy in some of the more important toddler skills. Like how to gum the flavor out of a piece of toast without actually eating it.

Or how to enjoy an extended social hour in the tub under the pretense of bathing. The delighted look on the girls' faces says it all.

There were more advanced skills that Cathy wasn't yet ready for that Christine was more than willing to demonstrate. Like escaping from the rocket-shaped climbing structure in the park - just before a warp-core breach. Tricky stuff.

Cathy seemed to thoroughly enjoy the lessons, as indicated by her expression during this post-training snack break. 

But occasionally big sister drilled her charge a little too long, resulting in this situation.

But all in all, June was a fun and educational month - for all of us.

July saw an uptick in activity beginning with a visit to Linwood to see my parents. Still, not much photo evidence. Just these two snaps. The first is of my father Wendell taking the measure of his latest grandchild. And she of him I believe. 

This second pic of son Ted and my sister Wendy's son Tristan is somewhat of a rarity. These first cousins saw each other less and less as time passed and their lives took different tracks. But when they were together, they got along famously. Here they are hijacking Grandpa's lawn tractor for an unapproved joy ride.

My memory is that they were busted before takeoff, but I could be wrong. Maybe Ted can remember.

Later in the month we headed back to Ipperwash Beach and the family cottage. A primary activity that summer was acclimating Cathy to life on the lake. In this next pic Mom and big sister are helping the newbie get her surf legs. It was rocky going as she had not yet quite acquired her dry-flat-land legs.

An easier skill to master was muckling. According to the Internet, there are a number of meanings for the words muckle and its present participle muckling. None of them apply here. In Southern Ontario, and especially at Ipperwash Beach in the LeRoy family, it means splashing around in water. In this case, at the shore of Lake Huron. Disturbing others while splashing around in water is an advanced form of muckling, just to be clear.

Below is a shot of Cathy receiving instruction in this essential childhood skill from her mother - a master muckler in her youth I've been told. 

In between training sessions, our girl needed some R&R. What better way to recharge than to slide into the family turtle for an afternoon float. 

While big sister takes a break from her own refreshing dip to offer a few words of encouragement. 

The highlight of our Ipperwash visit that July was Cathy's first birthday. It was a grand affair in the finest cottage-birthday tradition. Some pics. First the birthday girl in her party dress.

The chair may look familiar. Cathy is at least the fourth generation of McKellar women to nestle into this family treasure. It's had a colorful history, first in the '40s and '50s in service to Nancy's Grandma McKellar in London, Ontario. Sometime in the '60s (we estimate) it journeyed to the LeRoy family home in Grosse Pointe Woods where it took up residence at the foot of the basement stairs. Nancy's childhood dog Tiny fancied the chair and for quite awhile claimed it as her sleeping quarters. 

Later, in the '70s, the chair was returned to Ontario, namely to Avon Rae cottage where it put in about 30 years as the primo place to sit on the cottage's fabulous screen porch. Then in 2005 it came back to America for good, moving along with a few of its companion pieces to our new cottage in Greenbush. It's now in its 19th year at Wiser Times, holding court in the family room. It's showing its age a bit, but still pretty darn comfortable. But back to the birthday party.

There were distinguished guests, like Cathy's grandparents Rae and Marge.

Along with her Great Uncle and Aunt Ken and Evelyn from Toronto.

And the traditional first-birthday cake. Chocolate, to ensure the biggest mess possible. Here's a before shot, taken in another family heirloom the cottage wooden, safety-feature-free high chair.

  And the action shot. Cathy did not disappoint.

Following a pretty extensive cleanup process, there were the presents. Here the birthday girl is enjoying what appears to be a shape sorter of some design. 

The next few pics demonstrate just how much of a team sport a birthday can be.

Suffice it to say the party was a hit. With all three Burk girls playing key roles. It was a grand finale to our summer visit to Avon Rae. I think.

I think it was a finale, but can't be sure. Because this is where the mysterious photo void begins. We may have been at the lake in August. I don't know. What I do know is that Christine turned five that August. I'm guessing there were pics taken, But I don't know. Can't find any. Sorry Christine. Your Dad's a slug. At least he was in August of 1986.

What I do have is this picture of Christine at Cathy's birthday party in July. She looks happy and is opening a new toy. I believe she's opening one of Cathy's toys, but that counts. Sorta. Right?

So we have this nice picture of Christine at four years and 11 months. In a party dress. At a birthday party. And a sincere hope from Dad that in the years I have yet to digitize I find no other egregious lack of birthday pics. Shameful.

So now I'm in the void until Halloween according to the family photo history. As mentioned earlier, mid-August to mid-September we moved to 651 Vernier. I'm left with only my memories of that period, and should note that while my memory is clear, it's not always accurate (or so I've often been told).

I remember that Nancy and I were both traveling a lot during that time. I was on the road for the closing which Nancy handled alone with my POA. Nancy was traveling on the day the hired movers came to Dearborn and lugged the large pieces of furniture to Grosse Pointe. I was single-parenting that day, keeping our girls out of harm's way while doing my best to direct the movers according to Nancy's instructions (where do you want this sofa lady).

I remember parking Cathy in a baby seat on the Vernier Rd. front yard. For at least a couple of hours. She was mesmerized by the steady flow of articles passing her by on the way to the front door. And yes, that was an excellent example of what in our family is known as DLS (dad-level supervision).

I remember two guys just slightly bigger than I using fancy shoulder straps to hoist our upright grand piano, carry it down our basement stairs and set it in a designated spot in our (soon to be) rec room. Amazing.

I remember my sisters Cindy and Wendy delivering my Dad's pickup to us from Bay City. I used it to run several loads of small items over to the new house the week before the big movers came. Most noteworthy was the kid's swing set wedged upside down in the bed of the truck, with some odds and ends (including a grandfather rocker) stacked on top. A real Jed Clampett moment.

I remember moving the final items of our household over the Labor Day weekend in our Oldsmobile station wagon and little brown pickup. Our good friends Pat R. and Linda M. came over on Saturday and helped us finish up. Two weeks later, I remember Nancy and I joining Pat and Linda to help them move into their new home in Beverly Hills. I would say both moves were successful as we are each still in our "new" homes these 38 years later.

But what I remember most about our move and that time is the feeling of immense happiness for having found and successfully acquired what I felt for sure would be our forever home. So far, that feeling is still there. Every time I pull into the drive. 

Until next time on Memory Lane. 

Grosse Pointe Charles