Memory Lane - A Family Affair (July 1988)

In July of 1988 we had perhaps the most memorable extended family vacation at our Canadian cottage ever, in the 10-day period from the 4th of July to Cathy's third birthday on July 14th. Ten perfect weather days on Ipperwash Beach. Three generations of Nancy' family spread across two cottages - her parents Rae and Marge, her Aunt Evelyn and Uncle Ken, Nancy and I and three kids, her brother Dave and his bride Barbara and two kids, and cousins Lynne and Ann with their families (I'm lumping first cousins, second cousins, first cousins once removed and shirt-tail cousins all into the term cousins, just to be clear). Nineteen in all. Half American, half Canadian. A true International Freedom Week. The best way to tell this story is in pictures. So here's a bunch.

When you hear the term sand play, the first thing you think of is something like this, right?

A bunch of kids with pails and shovels creating a sand castle complete with moat. In this case the kids from left to right in reference to Nancy's relationships are cousin Heather, nephew Matt, son Ted, and nephew Brian. The big kid supervising the dig is cousin Tom.

While this crew was literally knee-deep in construction, Cathy opted for more independent projects. Here she's attempting to relocate the lake, one bucket at a time.

In this pic she's demonstrating the inverted-shovel grip, critical to smoothing out the bottom of one's trench.  

Christine had broken ground on her own trench and was progressing nicely.

But she made the mistake of putting too much thought into it. Before long she was caught in a creative dilemma. To trench, or not to trench? How deep? Is there nothing more? In a way, I think she's still working it out.

But sand play is not only for the youngest generation. Those urges to unwind at the water's edge, wiggle your toes into the sand and put your brain in park stay with you. Whether it be to catch a few rays like in this shot of (primarily) the middle generation (Ken, Lynne, Barb and Dave).

Or to huddle up and share family news (Lynne and Nancy, with a curious Andrew trying to keep up).

Even those of the senior generation fall prey to the lure of idling on the beach. Here's a shot of Nancy's parents Rae and Marge catching up on beach goings-on with their long-standing neighbor Dotty C. I have to admit they're usually better dressed than the rest of us.

Fun in the sand almost always leads to getting wet. For the vigorous among us that often meant launching something from Avon Rae's modest but quite seaworthy fleet. 

On the left with the blue and white sail is the Bay Viewer, the senior member of the group having been acquired when Nancy was a teenager. It was known as the Blandmerck, a combination of the first letters of the names of the senior and middle generations - Barb-Lynne-Ann-Nancy-Dave-Marge-Evelyn-Rae-Chuck-Ken. Originally named the Landmerk, the family was generous enough to add Barb and me to the acronym when we married into the family. 

The other two boats, shown closer up below, were Rae's Wayfarer (front) and Dave's Laser.

Rae and Dave were both avid sailors. Dave would zoom around the cove in his laser between Kettle Point to the south and Stony Point to the north, often participating in local holiday races. 

Rae's story is somewhat different. Rae had crewed on Mackinaw-race caliber sailboats in his youth and never lost the bug. The wayfarer was a late-in-life purchase intended to provide leisure sailing outings around the cove. But it was a lot of boat. When the lake levels lowered in the late '80s, it became difficult to launch. At one time there was about 80 feet of sand between the boat's storage spot and the water's edge. Even with a steel cable winch and large inflatable rollers, it took three of us to do the job. 

But though the ordeal of the launch certainly reduced Rae's sailing time over the years, there was a silver lining to this dilemma. Being an engineer, Rae was intrigued by the problem. He spent many hours contemplating various solutions. He enjoyed explaining his latest plans, which he did often over evening cocktails. Though he never came up with a winning solution, owning and fussing over that boat was a source of joy for him. He got his money's worth.

There was one other boat I should mention. Mine.  

Yeah. The one in the middle. No wind required.

Then there were those times when people just got right down in the water. Lake Huron is normally cold. Not Lake Superior cold, but cold. Except where the water is shallow and the sun is shining. That's how it was right in front of the cottage most of the time. A long and wide sandbar kept the water close to shore warm.

Here Uncle Ken is chaperoning a group of beginners. A creature of habit, Ken was famous for his 4:00 pre-happy hour swims. He often drew a crowd. 

As often as not, the kids would accentuate their lake experience with specialized, high-tech devices. 

Which I'm sorry to say weren't always used properly.

Fortunately there were no injuries sustained in the above incident. 

Fueling all of this fun and frivolity was a time-tested meal and beverage plan. The two branches of the family routinely managed their breakfasts and dinners on their own in their respective cottages. Lunches broke out spontaneously wherever and whenever they could and often involved diners from both sides of the family. 

One of my strongest memories of meal times at Avon Rae was the not-so-sturdy gray bench. This family heirloom was seldom seen (I have no pictures of it from 1988) but in use constantly. The bench was a 1x10 wooden plank to which shorter pieces of 1x10  had been added to each end to serve as legs. It was held together mostly by periodic coats of heavy enamel paint. Adults sat on it at the peril. 

There were a few cracks in the top plank, evidence of those few times more than one adult tried to sit on it at the same time. But the kids loved it. The cottage had a large oak dining table indoors and a seven foot table on the screen porch made from an old door shutter. The bench traveled between the two locations as dictated by the weather. Here are a few typical shots, all of which feature the unseen bench (which I would like to mention was rescued from Avon Rae in 2005, with the shutter table, taken to Wiser Times and refurbed; both remain in use today). 

First one of Cathy excited to finally be big enough to join the bench club.

Here Ted, Matt, Christine and Cathy are deep in lunch conversation. There's actually three conversations in progress. The boys with each other, the girls with themselves.

In the following photos the three girls - Christine, Cathy and cousin Heather - are displaying typical meal time behavior. Coaxing Cathy into the clean-plate club.

Heather helping Cathy with her table decorum.

And Christine and Heather enjoying Cathy's nap time.

If you look closely at the paper plates in these photos, it could appear that they were all taken at the same meal. But no. Some of the outfits are different (mostly swim suits). I'm afraid that hotdogs with macaroni and cheese were pretty frequent kid menu items.

Between meals, the kids would sometimes come in for a snack of - you guessed it - macaroni and cheese.

And not infrequently adult beverages appeared. Sometimes with special equipment.

But the major component of the beverage program was happy hour. Much like I've described in previous posts, but with just a little more pizzazz. The happy hours were joint and rotated between the cottages. 

They usually started like this.

Two able-bodied Canadians pouring out full-bodied Canadian whiskey (Wiser's, of course). This particular scene took place at Reedholme, the cottage two doors down. Cousin Tom and Uncle Ken are doing the honors. 

Like Avon Rae, Reedholme had a very large screened porch overlooking the lake. A perfect venue for sun-baked vacationers to relive the adventures of the day, over ice. It was also the setting for some noteworthy photos, like this one of the second cousins. They were usually well-behaved for fear of being dismissed and deprived of happy hour munchies.  

And this shot of Christine, Cathy and Nancy sitting in classic wicker rockers. We call this shot "The Girls". There's a blowup of it in our upstairs hallway.

Following happy hours the families would retreat to their respective vacation homes for dinner. But the buzz from the party usually survived until early evening when we often reassembled for a hot game of Yahtzee.

Or for the seriously competitive, Trivial Pursuit.

Complimenting the steady flow of activities each day, from big breakfasts to the beach and the lake to the extended social hours, were the most special times of all - those quiet, personal moments when we could mentally retreat to reflect on our good fortune and just enjoy the peaceful surroundings. We each spent those moments in our own way. It could just be catching a few rays.

Drifting away with your boom box and a good book.

Skipping stones.

Or catching up on your favorite magazine.

A post-dinner family walk on the beach was popular.

As was hanging with the locals.

Or maybe just chilling on the beach with a cup of coffee and a good buddy, remembering how many times over the years you have done the very same thing.

Finally, what would a vacation at the lake be without a birthday party. This marathon visit to Avon Rae ended with Cathy's third. We had the usual fanfare of cake and ice cream and gifts and came away with a couple of our favorite birthday pics. Happy kids.

As I close this post about the cottage vacation that set the standard for all that followed, I think it's appropriate to offer a final reminder of what Avon Rae and the beach looked like in the summer of 1988. 

We would make memories here for another 16 summers. 

Until next time,

Grosse Pointe Charles

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