Memory Lane - Regular Order (January to June 1988)

Now that the 2025 edition of Hell Month is over (see original post if you're unfamiliar with this ordeal), I'm back on Memory Lane. 1988 to be specific. 

Deja vu all over again? Well, not really. Most of the things our family did through 1988 we had done before. Multiple times. The groove thing, known in governmental terms as regular order. Of course there were the usual new wrinkles and speedbumps that come with each new year, but for the most part 1988 played out according to plan. Some highlights.

There isn't much photographic history through the winter months, which seems to have been our way in those early years. But I found a couple of pics worth noting. The first is a favorite of ours, little Miss Catherine at a Ferry School function in March (Christine's elementary school concert).

What a cutie, you say. All decked out in her fancy dress and shoes. Smiling like a cherub.

Close. Cute yes, cherubic no. She's actually sitting time-out on the staircase for poor behavior during the concert. Wouldn't stay in her seat, wouldn't be quiet, didn't respond to our parental threats entreaties. So she was summarily escorted out of the auditorium and plopped down on the steps with the usual warning of worse to come if she moved. I then spent the rest of the concert a few feet away ensuring her compliance and smiling at passers by who thought she was "so darling". I'm not sure who won that engagement.

Then there's this shot from April.

Ted amongst a slew of sisters, taken during a visit of Christine and Cathy to Ted's Mom's house. That's Ted's other sister Jayme on the right. As a big brother, Ted had a full plate. 

The visit was a rare event, for sure. But a reminder to me of how well these little kids navigated complex situations. More curious than confused, and generally accepting of straightforward answers to their questions. 

We were back in Linwood in May for one of our frequent visits to my parents' home. Those trips were a major component of the family groove that I like to talk about. And as noted earlier, I like these pictures mostly for the subtle changes they capture from year to year. Here are some shots from that visit. First, Cathy having a little Grandma time.

In May of '88 Cathy was almost three. Not just a toddler anymore, and working on her conversation skills. Who better to practice with than Grandma.

Here we have sweater-boy, I in my favorite knit/suede, satin-lined, zippered sweater-jacket.   

This old friend was a gift from my mother in the early '80s and is still on the job (actually I'm wearing it as I write this post). It's in good shape for a 40-year-old and too warm and comfortable to ever abandon. Plus, I always get mom-points for showing up in it.

About sweater-boy, I've always been sensitive to cooler air. Maybe because my normal body temperature is 97 point something. As such I usually have a sweater on or nearby, just in case. Less so in summer months, but there are still those cool evenings and night breezes off the lake. And the odd over-air conditioned restaurant or doctor's office, where I seem to be spend a lot of time these days. 

This next pic I call girls-in-jeans. Typical weekend visit activity. Sitting, relaxing, staring into the camera. Except for Christine. I believe she's staring into a more interesting dimension. 

A spring trip to Linwood wouldn't be complete without a day at the ball yard. Ted was 12 then and I believe playing his last season of Little League. Here are a few shots for the record.

First, the baseball card photo.

The stare down. 

The mighty rip.

And ho hum, another run.

Easy game. All the while the girls were getting their kicks on the big wheel, going for that marvelous "I'm too dizzy to stand up" feeling. Better than hitting a home run.

Back home for Mothers Day, Christine and Cathy were all decked out for the festivities. Mothers Day in our family usually meant a family gathering and a formal dinner, and 1988 was no exception. I found this picture of the girls helping Grandma LeRoy open a few gifts. In the photo Marge appears to be reading a homemade card from the girls, always a highlight of the day. Christine, the lead author, looks pretty amped.

June of '88 saw the usual spring/early summer activities, like yard work. The picture's a little fuzzy but you can clearly make out the identity of my apprentice. Everybody starts out on dust pan.

There was backyard fun, first on some high-tech fitness equipment. 

Then at a local waterpark. The girls had season passes.

Meanwhile, Ted was furthering his education and graduating from 6th grade. He's the happy one in the middle.

Our Fathers Day celebration was slightly less formal than our earlier Mothers Day gala. More of a tee-shirt-and-shorts affair. Some cards, a couple of nice gifts and some thoughtful conversation with my kids. 

Of course, the tolerance for sustained discussion varies with age and personality type. In the pic below Christine and I are still going strong on some point of mutual concern, fueled no doubt by our common quest for precision (read OCD). Cathy has shifted her attention to the wrapping paper. And Ted's body language seems to be asking, "Are we done yet?" I'm guessing the conversation portion of the day may have run a little long.     

Toward the end of June we were back in downtown Detroit for another one of these - 

Where crazy people like this -

Sit on a rooftop in the hot sun (some without hats) to watch other crazy people do this -

Yes, another of our Grand Prix outings. Courtesy of a good friend with a geographically fortunate rooftop. As always, it was fun. Also loud and - aromatic? 

Eventually, the least crazy members of our crowd wanted to move on to a shadier venue out of range of race noise and the pungent aroma of gasoline. Here's a shot of them by the exit waiting for me to grab just one more free hotdog. 

The downtown Grand Prix years were memorable. On Free Prix Day (the Friday afternoon before) everyone would take off work and cruise around the course carved out of city streets and the drive along the river behind the Ren Cen. There were no races on Friday afternoon, but time trials were being run. At some locations you could get right up to the outer fence, about 20 feet from the course, and feel the wind and the roar as cars sped by. It was...well exhilarating doesn't quite cover it. 

On Saturdays, when our rooftop parties happened, there were usually five or six warm-up races of different classes of cars. They were all just as loud and scary as the big race, which was run on Sunday. You needed real money to see that one up close. 

I never made it out to the Belle Isle track, where the race was run in later years. It just didn't have the same appeal to me as watching these incredible machines zip by your favorite downtown hangouts on streets you knew very well. 

I did record the TV broadcast of the last downtown race of the original Detroit Grand Prix series, held in 1991. I still have the video cassette. And while my days if fighting large, noisy crowds are over, I'm glad the race is back downtown. It just seems proper, even though the drivers don't like it very much. Hey, if it was easy anybody could do it.   

As June faded into July, our journey through 1988 headed into summer and some of our most memorable times at the family cottage in Ontario. That's where I'll pick up the story next time.

Grosse Pointe Charles

Notes from the Lab - RDate 153.23

As I approach my late 70s, I find myself thinking a little more about time. Not about how much I have left or anything morbid like that (as a Franklin disciple I understand that I have all the time there is). No, I'm talking about how I spend time.

As a retiree I do have a generous amount of discretionary time. But lately I've felt the need for even more. I'm not really a bucket-list guy. I've always thought that life was more about the journey than the score. I've always had goals (another Franklin habit), but my focus has been more about the behaviors engendered by goals than their actual attainment. Especially regarding big picture issues like relationships and health. 

Since retirement, my goals and behaviors have mostly been about friends and hobbies. And I'm now feeling the urge to spend more time on those behaviors. In other words, I want to play even more than I do now.  

Chores (7/29/12, Last Update 2/1/24): 

One way to play more is to work less. For years now I've been peeling away time commitments to what I call chores. Those life-sustaining tasks that fall on my side of the spousal duty roster. In the way distant past, the balance between my chores and my Bride's was maintained through periodic high-risk negotiations. That era passed when I retired and, due to a brief state of faux-euphoria, rashly entered into a lifetime chore agreement that can only be altered with a doctor's note. So absent a medical excuse, dumping passing tasks off to Nancy is off the table.  

It took me a while, but eventually I discovered the world of contractors and handymen. It started with small things like housekeeping, gutter cleaning and deck maintenance. Expanded to minor electrical and plumbing repairs. More recently we've added lawn care and yard cleanup. All of these changes are not only increasing my discretionary time, they're protecting our home from malpractice (I tried to loosen a rusty bolt on a toilet seat once, with a hammer and chisel; it didn't go well but the new toilet is nice). 

Another obvious opportunity for reducing chore time that I overlooked for years is expanded use of covers. For most of our almost 20 years at Wiser Times I've lugged (with the help of others) most of our deck and yard furniture to the back for winter storage in the garage. At home we did the same thing with our patio furniture. No longer. Now with heavy duty, fitted covers and a small army of bungee cords almost all of our seasonal outdoor equipment shelters in place. More time saved, and fewer trips to the medicine cabinet for chemical comfort.

Recently I stumbled onto another possible source of task relief. 

If I look better than usual in this picture of snow removal at Wiser Times, it's because it's not me. It's my son-in-law Matt. I think he's a natural.

The Purge (8/30/12, Last Update 2/1/24): On to spending that saved time. A large component of my hobby activities is collecting stuff. New and (more often) used media mostly. But also the occasional piece of memorabilia or even a piece of furniture. Father-in-law Rae's cottage porch rocker, for example. Couldn't let that memory-laden heirloom pass out of the family.

In previous posts I've described purge activities about hunting down and ridding ourselves of all sorts of items we no longer needed or wanted. I can say with confidence that with my mother's relocation to 651 Vernier 18 months ago, our potential for creating additional storage space by purging unwanted possessions was exhausted. Mom brought a few things with her. 

It all worked out, but we're now in zero-sum acquisition lockdown. Nothing can be added to our household without something being removed.

I can't say I didn't see this coming. Mom's addition was just the final straw. Awhile back, my Bride surveyed my personal space (the basement area commonly referred to as The Lab) and obtained my commitment not to shoehorn any more storage devices into my already overpopulated private paradise. At first, I wasn't sure why she felt pressed to impose such an inconsiderate restriction. So I took a hard look around.

Okay. I got it. I have a problem. I admit I frequently find myself browsing eBay for used movies, most of which are on sale at ridiculously low prices. And I have a thrift store addiction. Thrift stores often sell used music at even more ridiculously low prices. The result has been a steady influx of treasures I can't live without. Aggravating my predicament is the fact that with the advent of streaming services, people are dumping their old media at a record pace. I needed to act.

My first thought was to squeeze a little more capacity for new purchases by dumping stuff that I had no hope of ever using again (duh). So I dragged several old electronic devices down "the concrete mile" to the curb - a couple of tape decks, some retired cable boxes, two non-smart flat screen TVs and this little 12" sweetheart. 

The last tube TV to reside in the Burk household. This trooper served time at Ipperwash, in a couple of our conversion vans and a kid's bedroom or two. Quite a career. Here's a pic of its curtain call, sitting patiently at the curb hoping for one last chance (and it got it - it was nabbed by a junk picker). 

Alas, the extra space recovered through these disposals was quickly re-purposed to other, more pressing needs than my bulging media collection (mainly Canadian-made beverages - trying to get ahead of the tariff wars). I finally realized that the only way to sustain my acquisition compulsion would be to discard things I like (old used media) to make room for things I like better (newer used media). Quite the dilemma.

So last month I started my quest to escape from the darkness. Step 1 - a purge of VHS cassettes. I began by screening my VHS movies and selecting the least admired for departure. I'm using the old standby criteria "will I ever watch this movie again". If the answer is no, I put it in the box for the thrift store (yes, I now give as well as receive). If the answer is yes, I keep the title temporarily while I search for a low-cost digital replacement. Once the digital replacement is obtained, the VHS goes in the box. It's a painful process, but necessary. Each purged VHS cassette creates shelf space for two DVDs or Blu-rays. So I've got that going for me.

I imagine there will eventually be purge actions for other media types. Perhaps even for vinyl and my beloved LaserDiscs. But to quote Scarlett O'Hara, "I can't think about that now". I'm a month into the program and happy to report that shelf space for new purchases is being created. Slowly. As with most things I get involved with, it'll take a while. I'm getting through it with a lot of self-talk and some of those aforementioned Canadian beverages.

Disney (11/1/12, Last Update 9/30/22): Despite my obsession with hard media and time to play with it, I do have other interests that would benefit from more free time. Or rather, from a reorientation. Disney is a good example. For years my emphasis was on getting to Disney as much as possible and seeing/doing as many things as I could squeeze in. To that point, here is an update on the family statistics (I guess occasionally I do keep score):

--Number of times at least one Burk family member has checked into a Disney resort - 102

--Number of days stayed at a Disney resort associated with the 102 visits - 451

--Number of days at least one Burk family member has visited a Disney theme park - 143

In some ways it's sad to say that my own days of "seeing/doing as many things as I could" are pretty much over. I no longer stuff my back pack with supplies, slip into my pin lanyard, strap on my cross trainers and water bottle and launch myself into the frenzy that is a theme park. A shot from the good old days, just before the "rope drop". Nerd hall-of-fame material.

Some would say I've slowed down, or maybe just come to my senses. Both good points. But there's more to it. The time thing again. I'm much more interested these days in taking things in more slowly and digesting experiences more thoroughly.  

During park visits I used to be the event planner, the field guide and the answer man. Now all those jobs have been taken over by the next generation (thankfully). My new jobs are 1) keeping up and 2) helping my grandkids manage their parents. It's tricky. But I have the essential equipment - a personal conveyance and funny hats.

I like my new roles. I'm able to enjoy watching the crazy people more than I used to (except when it's my turn to push), and I always have a place to sit down though it's often with someone on my lap. Best of all I get to enjoy all of the magic of Disney through the eyes of my kids (once again) and my grandkids. Time well spent. 

The Art of the Dawdle (11/7/12, Last Update 5/13/20): I can't let a discussion of time go by without touching on dawdling. In my last update I sang the virtues of dawdling as a tool for dealing with the inconveniences and stress of the COVID crisis. Things are back to a new normal for me now, and hopefully for many of you. We still have that government insanity thing going on, but my daily activities look much like they did pre-COVID. Except for the work-less-play-more thing I've been talking about. 

You could say that my dawdling tendencies have gone mainstream. I start each day with an extended sit (by the fire in season) during which I chat with my roomies, have a lite breakfast and do my best to forward to a future date any task on my PDTL (prioritized daily task list) requiring serious effort. 

I confess that I have taken liberties with Franklin guru Hyrum Smith's principle "if it's in the Planner it happens". I'm now more like "if it's in the Planner it will happen - someday". Critical things (medical stuff, spousal commitments, happy hour) come off pretty much as planned. Everything else is mood-dependent. 

In order to make proper use of my new planning freedom I've upgraded my lab facilities. 

Multiple hi-def screens, speed and photo printers, photo-grade scanner, CD duplicator, media players of all types and (not in the picture) a digital paper cutter (I operate it with my digits). Not to mention 35 years of day-planner history to work with (first pic, top left). A hobby-nerd's paradise. 

Enough about time today. Time to move on. Here's wishing you all a healthy dawdle in the coming days. See you back on Memory Lane as I head into 1988.

Grosse Pointe Charles

Memory Lane - The Holidays Return (November and December 1987)

When I began my Memory Lane journey, I knew I would enjoy remembering and in a way reliving our family story. What I didn't expect was the transformation of so many of my memories from vague thoughts and images to very precise recollections. This change has been driven by my immersion into our family's well-organized photo library. The pictures frequently evoke detail I had forgotten. 

In addition to clarifying exactly what happened when, the photos provide a record of the subtle but constant changes in our daily lives - growing kids, changes in living environments and personal appearance, evolving social circles, and more. The photos also reveal that while our family enjoys many recurring activities, those activities never look or feel quite the same from year to year. 

Speaking of recurring activities, I'd like to return to Memory Lane in late November of 1987. Fresh off the marathon birthday season, we headed up to my parents' place for Thanksgiving. My mother put on the usual spread for the big meal. Here we are at the expanded table ready to dig in. That's my sister Cindy peaking out from behind my mother on the left.

It was a quiet weekend, as neither my brother Jeff's nor sister Wendy's families made the trip. We took the opportunity to just relax, catch up on hometown doings (for me) and recharge for the holiday foot race about to unfold. 

In this pic, Ted is explaining the finer points of his needlepoint project while I glaze over. Christine appears to be rapt with curiosity, as was her way.

Cathy spent her quiet time working on her blanket folding skills. It's trickier than it looks.

Back in the Pointes we were slowly gearing up for Christmas. First there were the Christmas dresses. A review of my 1986 Christmas photos indicates that these fancy green dresses were new this year. Nancy confirmed that they were courtesy of Grandma LeRoy.

Speaking of changes, when I look at the picture I see a white flagstone wood-burning fireplace, complete with tools and an oversized screen. And if you squint, you can just make out a sliver of our old white fleur-de-lis wallpaper above the mantel. Blasts from the way past. 

This next picture is an early example of a parental ploy we often used to persuade the kids to smile for the camera. If they cooperated on a good picture, we would take another picture with them making the fun/bad face of their choice. Ted and Christine were into it. Apparently Cathy didn't get the memo.

The first formal event of that Christmas season was an elementary school fund raiser known as Breakfast with Santa. In their later years at Ferry Elementary the girls would participate in the breakfast as Santa's helpers. But in '87, it was all about seeing the big guy in the red suit. And, of course, showing off the dresses.

Fresh from a successful Santa encounter, Christine celebrated with pancakes. Clean plate club.

I could find no pics of Cathy dining on pancakes at the breakfast. I'm guessing it may not have been pretty. Syrup, butter, sticky fingers in the hair. You get the idea.

However, I did find this picture taken at home a day or two after the Santa breakfast. In it Cathy appears to be claiming clean-plate status. But a close look at everything but her plate suggests that her technique needs a little work.

Another less formal pre-holiday event at our house is the baking of Christmas cookies. This critical skill has been passed down from mother to daughter in the LeRoy family for generations, and Nancy was committed to continuing the tradition. Her philosophy is that you can't start too young. Below is a shot of Cathy with what most likely was her first few moments with her hands on a rolling pin. You can just feel her baking genes coming alive.

In this pic big sister Christine, a veteran of earlier cookie-baking efforts, anxiously awaits her turn to sprinkle flour, mash dough and play with the cookie cutters. Fun.

We were so busy enjoying (eating) the results of this tutorial session that we forgot to take any pictures of the final products. Photographer's oversight. 

With all the preliminaries tended to, Christmas Eve finally arrived. Here are the girls jammed up and ready for bed, about to hang their stockings. 

And the final pic from Christmas Eve as the weary parents headed off to bed. 

That period between taking the above picture and taking the picture below is for me the eye of the storm. The perfect moment. The shopping, decorating, wrapping and often late-night assembly tasks are over. And the gifting frenzy, cleanup, hosting and cardboard crushing have not yet begun. Not to mention the undecorating. It's a few hours of peace and true relaxation.

The irony is that for kids, the time between hitting the sack Christmas Eve and hitting the floor Christmas morning drags on for ever. But for adults, it can't last long enough (for a full recitation of my views on the holidays, see the series of posts from 2019 beginning with The Holidays Part 1).

On to the big day. Step 1 - the obligatory opening shot. The little darlings waiting patiently. At two and a half, I'm not sure Cathy knew exactly what she was waiting for. But it didn't take long for her to figure things out.

Step 2 - the stockings. Note the concentration. To quote Old Man Parker from The Christmas Story, "There could be anything in there!"

Step 3 - everything else.

 

Even our loyal Schnauzer-Terrier mix Heidi got into the action. What's better than a brand new ball.

From the next couple of pictures it's evident that Nancy's parents had stayed with us over Christmas Eve that year. This was a rare occurrence as they only lived a few blocks away. Here's a shot of Rae deftly peeling back some fancy wrapping paper. 

Here we have Marge enjoying a post-gifting-frenzy recharging moment with the girls, while I gaze adoringly at my 1988 Star Trek calendar. 

Eventually we tidied up a bit and prepared for company. 

Mid-afternoon Nancy's brother Dave and his family arrived for the final phase of the day-long celebration. We had an extended happy hour and a big dinner. This picture is of marginal quality but it captures the moment for posterity.

From left to right we have Nancy, yours truly, Rae (coat and tie, of course), nephew Matthew, Christine, nephew Brian, Cathy, Dave, Marge (peeking out) and Dave's bride Barbara. An august group if there ever was one.

After all the visitors departed, we each recovered from the day's events in our own ways. Some of us relaxed with a favorite new possession. Others napped. And one crept back to tend to unfinished business.

The rest of the holiday vacation was pretty low key. There was some kitchen maintenance.

And some experiments in personal grooming.

And quite a bit of this. I think they were binging Saved by the Bell - The Lost Episodes, or something equally educational.

There was one other social event of note that last week of the year. Nancy and I hosted a quiet but entertaining New Years Eve get together with a few friends.  

From left to right are Linda C and her steady at the time Art, Kathy S and Tom Y in from Chicago, and your hosts. There was lively conversation, liquid encouragement, lots of sweaters and apparently for one of us a new hair style. It was a fun way to send off 1987.

See you next in 1988, at least blog-wise.

Grosse Pointe Charles