Memory Lane - We Discover Florida (January - May 1982)

When I last stepped off Memory Lane, I had finished telling the story of 1981 and the growth of our family by one little girl. The holidays over and packed away, we started 1982 in typical Michigan fashion. While some were lollygagging and contemplating their navels - 

Most of us were dealing with scenes like this.

These pictures are significant in two ways. First, this was the inaugural snow storm of our life together as home owners. We had shoveled snow of course, but - never our own. Sort of a Michigan rite of marriage. It was the beginning of a long and complex relationship with this persistent and wily wintry opponent. Some of our more daunting weather episodes have been chronicled in earlier posts. Not surprisingly, this won't be the last one you hear about.

The second item of significance has to do with the first snow picture. Note that in our driveway you can see the tailgate of our new car - a 1982 Oldsmobile Delta 88 diesel station-wagon. There'll be more on that diesel part later. For now, the point I'd like to stress is the hauling capacity of this shiny big boy. Remember this pic from a while back?

This was taken during a return trip from seeing the relatives in Toronto the previous October. At the time our "big" car was this Chevette (our other car was a Mustang II). So this pea green cruiser got all the road trip assignments. During our 1981 Christmas trip to Bay City, the Chevette met its Waterloo. Crammed full with gear - baby swing, baby walker, playpen, suitcases, our dog Heidi - plus Christmas gifts, we realized that we were under-autoed. We survived, but the atmosphere during the ride home was not kumbaya.

Within a week of this near miss, we marched into the local Oldsmobile dealer and asked, "What's the biggest thing ya' got?" A couple of days later we drove home in our new family station wagon. Oddly, I can find no full picture of our new car from that first winter. But I can offer the shot below taken some time later, to attest to its capability as a cargo master.

As any steady reader of this blog can tell you, large vehicles became a tradition in this family (see the series of posts starting with The Tiara Years). It all started with this big honkin' Oldsmobile.

Our automobile situation taken care of, we continued our journey through the winter of '82. I was working downtown Detroit as the manager of the IRS Special Procedures Advisory Unit. Nancy was working as an IRS Collection group manager in Ann Arbor. Life was busy, but good. Christy was having fun doing some new things - 

Some old things -

And was sporting "new" duds.

These bib overalls were actually mine way back when; my mother had saved them and had passed them on to me when Ted was born. Here's the proof - Ted, circa 1977.

Five years later in '82, Ted was growing like a weed and taking an interest in sports. Here's a shot with what I believe was his first ball glove, itching for the snow to melt.

As March was rolling around, an opportunity to escape the winter early arose. Nancy's parents Rae and Marge had taken a condo in Sarasota for the month and invited us to pay a visit. We accepted and decided to expand the trip to include visits to my grandmother in Tampa and some friends who had relocated to Sanford, Florida. This would be our first real road trip as a family. We were pumped. 

Nancy and I had both been to Florida before, she most recently on a vacation with and to visit friends. My last trip to the Sunshine State was in the early '70s, with my parents to visit my grandmother. Slight difference in atmosphere and activities. Nancy spent time in a bikini enjoying the sun and the Florida coast. I in my sans-a-belt pants caught up with grandma, met a great uncle for the first time, and toured an underground sea in Tennessee. The draw was big carp-like fish with no eyes. You had to be there.

So traveling as a couple with a six-month old would be different. Because we now had this big car that was fun and comfortable to ride in, we decided to save a little cash by driving straight through. We made a pack list which included clothes, baby equipment and supplies for about 10 days, and an impressive array of road snacks. We also bought some travelers checks (remember those) and obtained our first AAA Triptik which provided information about gas stations that sold diesel. This was our first hint that our big, beautiful, roomy, over-accessorized land yacht might have a dark underbelly. But at that moment, we loved it.  

We packed one other item, which is the reason no pictures were taken of the loaded car or of our time on the road. It was a foam mattress roughly the size of a twin bed that nested perfectly in the back of the Olds with half of the rear seat folded down. We each used it to sleep on while the other was driving through the night. And yes, the parent sleeping did so with our baby daughter sleeping along side. You can now see why no (incriminating) pictures were allowed.

What can I say. We were young and adventurous (read irresponsible). What could go wrong? Our young'un surely didn't need to spend all her time strapped into her boring car seat, safe and snug. She deserved some fun, too, didn't she? Yeah right. Our real motivation of course was to enhance the likelihood that Christy would actually sleep through the night, so we could, too. And it worked.

In our defense we thought about it more when we returned home and realized, belatedly, that we shouldn't have done that. We never did it again. And to ease our guilt we've spent the rest of our travel lives pointing out kids in other vehicles who don't appear to be strapped in and commenting on what idiots the parents must be. 

Overall, our 22 hour drive from Dearborn to Sarasota went fine. We arrived on time, met up with Rae and Marge and had a delightful stay in their vacation condo. Here are some pics. The first one is mother and daughter relaxing after the long drive, enjoying their new, warm surroundings.

Here are Nancy and yours truly posing for the record. I'm the one in the dorky bucket hat with - no beard. 

This condition of this pic has not weathered the years very well - the Ektachrome bleed thing. And it wasn't adjusted properly for the sun and shadow in the first place. But I'm including it here anyway because it is the first pic of me face-hairless for the first time in 18 months. And it has been so ever since. 

Just for the record, here is in my opinion the most memorable picture of me with a beard. It was taken by our long-departed friend Bob Douglas during an evening of private karaoke in his living room. 

This is also the best picture ever taken of me in a bowling shirt. Sort of Seger-esq I've always thought, especially the bowling shirt part. What can I say? It was the '80s.

But back to Florida. Christy felt right at home while on the trip. Mainly because she spent much of it like this. 

I guess the world looks pretty much the same everywhere through the fishnet of a playpen.

Here's a favorite shot from Sarasota, of Nancy's folks with Christy. Nice sun hat. 

After a few days with Rae and Marge, we started our meander north. Our next stop was an afternoon  with my Grandma Katy in Tampa. She was only 78 at the time. Sobering in retrospect as that's only five years older than I am now. Here's a shot of Grandma with her husband (#3) Grandpa Louis, enjoying their visit with Christy. 

There'll be more on the adventures of my remarkable grandmother later on as she lived to be 100, and did so in her own way in her own home. 

From Tampa we cruised up the I-4 corridor to the smallish town of Sanford to visit our friends Terry and Paula. Upon arrival they greeted us with cocktails and a hot tub. That's what I'm talking about. Here are Paula, her daughter Jesse, Christy and I enjoying the moment.

In this shot the girls - Paula, Nancy, Jesse and Christy - are heading for a walk in the Florida sun. The pic's a little blurry but you get the idea. The photographer was walking backwards, doing his best not to fall down, and took his eye off the ball. So much for an action shot.

Here's Christy back at the house for a mid-afternoon snack.

That night, we went clubbing in Sanford. The hot spot in town was - Showbiz Pizza. The headliner was this guy, known as Billy Bob Brockali.

It was our first encounter with a rock-singing animatronic creature. But not our last as in the early '80s the Showbiz, Chucky Cheese and Major Magic floor show pizza and beer arcade palaces were springing up everywhere. Here's a shot of Terry and daughter Jesse enjoying the fun, which for them we learned was a weekly experience. Christy was a little young to enjoy the atmosphere, but it made a big impression on me.

The next day we took a short drive over to the ocean and New Smyrna Beach. It was our first afternoon on the ocean as a couple. We didn't realize it at the time, but this was a foreshadow of many vacations to come. We had a fine time as indicated by these pics.

In this first shot we tried for a little nap time after the drive. Ya, like that was going to happen.

So we explored the beach for awhile and took in the ocean air. 

And relaxed on a beach blanket. Notice little miss no-nap starting to fade.

Before we left for the day we took this shot of our fully acclimated beach bunny.

This has become one of our favorite pictures of Christy, as it captured her upbeat disposition at an early age. This picture has been on our refrigerator door ever since I can remember. It always reminds me of the good times our family has shared over the years on one beach or another. 

We spent one more day with Terry and Paula before our trip home. It included trying on a little local color.

A last dip in the pool.

And resting up for the long journey ahead. Life was good.

Thus ended our first family trip to Florida. We enjoyed it and thought it would be nice to go back some day. We had no idea what lay ahead.  

The drive home was uneventful, the way you always want it to be. Safely back in Dearborn, spring was in the offing. The next few weeks brought a lot of this.

With frequent visits from the supervisor.

And of course, Christy's first Easter outfit.

This takes us to the end of May and to the brink of Christy's first full summer. We'll explore her discovery of sand and lakeshore in our next Memory Lane outing. Until then.

Grosse Pointe Charles  

2020 - Big Mistake or Bad Idea...

...as humorist Dave Barry would say. Or how about that Gabriel Garcia Marquez classic Love in the Time of Cholera Corona (now an Internet miniseries by the way). You get the idea. 2020 was suboptimal.

It has not been my practice to give this blog over to controversy or weighty matters. There are plenty of outlets for those who wish to do that. I generally immerse myself in the long view, which I find more interesting. Things like evolution and ancient astronaut theory. You know, the basics. In the spirit of full disclosure I do admit to occasionally peeking out the window to see what's happening in the real world. This past year that was a mistake. 2020 and the pandemic have been such a train wreck, I feel they warrant comment. 

First a minor political observation. Trouble is trouble. It's bad. But in times of trouble there are still solid citizens - even heroes - doing the right things everywhere everyday. I take solace in that. It encourages me to remain confident that we will survive the chaos and emerge stronger and enlightened. We are paying a terrible price for our past and continuing inattention to reason. My hope is that in the long run, those who brought us to this unhappy state will pay the lion's share of that price.

That said, I believe the lighter side of "life in the time of corona" could stand nurturing. Comedians and comedy writers have done their part. There have been numerous efforts to portray in humorous ways the unwelcome changes that have been foisted upon us, notwithstanding the backdrop of tragedy. This post is my contribution to that cause. 

As this blog is mainly about... me, so is this post. Consider it reflection by a comfortably retired senior, not dependent on a weekly paycheck, living in cozy digs fashioned in all ways for my own pleasures and staffed by dedicated caregivers (my bride and our mood-management dog Coco). So what's my problem? Have I in my private paradise been touched by the cacophony around me? Plenty.

First, there are what I will here refer to as inconveniences. These may seem like small issues in the face of a contagion. And they are. But, if you haven't had to do anything that you didn't want to do for years excepting doctor stuff, inconveniences can feel like a big deal. Here are a few:

Living behind a mask. Masks have joined the ranks of required clothing, like underwear and socks. A clothes horse like myself needs a mask to accent every ensemble. Fortunately, I have a live-in clothier keeping me chic. My current favorite mask is the one she crafted out of an old Captiva Island denim shirt. Talk about PPE. On the upside, I don't worry anymore about a speck of spinach sticking to my teeth.

Keeping away from friends and family. I'm not a big hugger by nature which I attribute to too much sensitivity training as a government employee. But it's just not normal to see my kids, my grandkids, my mother and close friends without that accepting and uplifting hug. As Scarlett O'Hara's nanny in Gone With the Wind would put it, "Ain't fittin'. Ain't fittin'. Just ain't fittin'."

Eating in, almost always. I'm all for a healthy diet. I'm for balanced meals, prudent snacking and reasonable use of Canadian imports. But what makes the whole thing work is the guilt that comes with a calorie-rich breakfast at the Coney Island, or a fancy repast at an upscale restaurant, or best of all a total pig-out at a gathering of friends. It's the guilt that gives one the motivation to get back and stay on the program until the next oasis of gluttony. Without those periodic rewards, the whole eat-healthy thing sort of loses its zip.

Losing sports. I'm not a big sports fan, but I'm a pretty big "homer". Meaning I try to follow Detroit pro teams and those teams from colleges to which I have paid tuition. In pre-COVID 19 times, I tried to keep up with how my faves were faring. I usually knew if they were having a winning season (the college teams) or a losing season (the pro teams). But now, I don't even know what sports are in season. I'm pretty sure baseball is over, but the rest is a blur. Fortunately, the last time I had a good look at local sports doings, just about every team I follow was underperforming. So maybe I should just move on.
 

Living from one hand sanitizer application to the next. Again, I'm all for cleanliness. COVID by necessity has taken this pursuit to a whole new level. From a process point of view, my default lens, everything I do now has extra steps. Take pumping gas on the road. It used to be get out of the car, pump the gas, log in the gallons and price into the gas book, stop into the restroom, and then pull out of the station without bumping into anything. Now I insert a visit to the hand sanitizer bottle between most of these steps. Even after washing my hands in the restroom. P is for paranoia. 

The good news is that despite these and other inconveniences, the determined among us have figured out ways of safely doing some of the things we have to do or just really like to do. Some examples.

Shopping for groceries. This one for half of us turns out to be fairly simple. The trick is to be the oldest and most medically vulnerable member of your household. Surprisingly, at 651 Vernier that's me! Who thought all of those unpleasant diagnoses and health speed bumps would have a silver lining. Fortunately, my bride is well-prepared to weather those periodic EDAs (extra-domicile-activities) with minimal risk. Proper gear, a shopping plan and execution during low-attendance periods are the key. Also, avoiding any aisle with a confused-looking man pushing a shopping cart in bedroom slippers (a la Lebowski) is an important rule. As a result, I find my normal food acquisition process - adding a desired item to the list on the refrigerator - still works fine.

Hair care: Being a boy, this one crept up on me. I've used the services of an in-house hair trimmer ever since my barber intimated that she felt guilty taking her fee. Apparently the three and a half minutes it took her to service my thinly populated scalp wasn't professionally fulfilling. However, it was a different story for my bride. Trauma would be a good word. She like many of her friends and women around the world, deprived of their hair stylists, were faced with battling time on their own. 

I understand some women drafted their spouses (tortured might be a better description) as substitute hair caregivers. Realizing what a disaster that would be in our house, my bride used the opportunity to "go gray" and get it over with. The process was a little scary for her in the beginning. But she slugged it out and is now quite content with her new look, and happy I believe to be free of hair-color tyranny. Lemons to lemonade, as it were.

Road trips: This may seem like an unlikely item to continue during a national pandemic, even for someone whose auto license plate reads "TRPSRUS". And for awhile it was. We cancelled three trips from March to July including a swing through the Gulf states and a two-week excursion to the Canadian Maritimes to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary. But in August we took advantage of slightly slackened restrictions and journeyed south to visit my mother in Florida. She hadn't seen a sensible human in person since February (her non-masking, socially irresponsible neighbors flitting back and forth to bingo in their golf carts didn't count). 

That six-month period from February to August was the longest gap between mom visits in many years. And she was lonely. Way. Not easy for a social animal like my mother to isolate herself for months on end, limited to cable news, soap operas and Judge Marilyn. On the road we learned that through the magic of automation and smart phones we could gas up, stay in a nice hotel, and survive on fast "food" for a couple of days with hardly any human contact. An arm sticking out of a drive-thru window was about it. At mom's we wore masks, distanced and sanitized. Fortifying our resolve with Canadian attitude-sanitizer helped a great deal, too. Especially for mom.

We have since taken three other road trips, abiding by the same safety rules. One to see a small group of friends in Tennessee and twice more to Florida. We have even stayed at Disney resorts, sticking mostly to our rooms, cooking or eating take-out, and walking the grounds as our primary entertainment. No theme parks, no theaters, no restaurants, no public transportation, and only minimal shopping in mostly over-sanitized empty stores. It was different. But, surprisingly relaxing. At least for me. I sort of blossom in an atmosphere where I don't have to get up and go do something.   

Gathering - virtually: One word - Zoom. I know there are other virtual meeting tools (Hangouts, Duo, Facetime) but Zoom has become so common in our everyday lives that it's now a verb in many languages. And for good reason. It has enabled everyone from the computer-literate to the cyber-challenged to visit in groups if they can open an email and click on the blue text. It has kept families safely in touch and given businesses who could adapt a fighting chance. 

Our music club, formally known as The Music Night Federation of Metropolitan Detroit (mugs and tee shirts are available) has continued in a modified virtual mode without missing a beat.  The pace of our remote MNF chats has been somewhat slower than our in-person parties, due to the vagaries of the Internet. But the virtual mode has a silver lining. Members who are geographically remote have been able to join in the fun more frequently. And everyone seems glad to see each other and share/hear how we are all doing. 

Another social activity that has survived are "Spinner" get-togethers. As described at length in earlier posts, the Spinners are a small group of friends who have been doing something together on Thursday nights (bowl, curl, karaoke, imbibe) since the '80s. True, the level of physical activity has waned in recent years. These days it's limited mostly to jaw and elbow exercises. As a matter of fact, I don't think it's too far fetched to say that Spinning has become more cerebral. Not intellectual, mind you. That would be a stretch. More think-tanked than think tank. But definitely cerebral. The range and depth of issues we find to disagree on in a two-three hour carouse can be impressive.

The pandemic seriously threatened this weekly ritual. In the beginning, we adapted by gathering on the patio of one of our group. We each brought our own drinks and snacks, and sat on yard furniture at a respectable distance. The live music we were used to at the bar was replaced by the elaborate rolling music machine of another one of our group. We were quite proud of ourselves through mid-October. Then it got cold.

Undaunted, we adapted again by going to Zoom. Since Halloween our weekly Spinning has been done virtually. We don't last quite as long as with the live sessions, but we enjoy it and can do it from anywhere. That having been said, we are all waiting desperately for our return to in-person Spinning at the bar, with the old mediocre live music and doting barmaids. I miss the seasoned fries and getting smacked gently on the back of the head for utterances that don't quite rise to our (newly found) high cerebral plane. I'm so glad I said this first. 

Before closing this post, I would like to share just a couple more thoughts regarding 2020 and the pandemical world we share.

Is it worth the risk? That's the question we've had to deal with since last March. "It", of course, refers to anything and everything you want to do. Should I see family? See friends? Grocery shop? Travel to see mom? Eat at a restaurant? Go to the doctor? Gather with friends on a patio or in a backyard? And many, many other what-used-to-be-normal activities. We weigh the risks, assess the benefits, look for ways to make what we want to do safe, make a decision and then hope nothing goes bad. It was life in 2020 and will continue to be what we do for at least the first half of 2021. It's stressful, tiring, and depressing. But...it's the only defense we currently have against the dreaded bug. 

What's next? For me, vaccination would be nice. Shouldn't be too long now. We've received preliminary calls from our health care provider. After that, I expect we will begin expanding our bubble slowly and cautiously as others get their shots and the COVID stats begin to decline. Eventually, our social world will return to something like what it was. But not entirely.

I've read a bit about dangerous viruses, new to most of us but not new to the world. These ancient life forms have been happy to hide out in tropical jungles for millennia. But with ever-increasing deforestation, the growing popularity of exotic animals as a food source, and nearly unrestricted global travel, viruses are looking for and able to find new hosts. They like humans a lot. So our challenge isn't only to survive this pandemic. It's to be smart about how the world is changing and adapt, to prevent all this from happening again. It should be obvious to even the casual observer that it's a bad time to be a slow learner.

But enough gloom. Nancy and I are more than ready to resume the active and happy social life we have enjoyed for years. Even if the rules may be slightly different. We missed the 2020 summer that wasn't. And are looking forward to making up for it in 2021.

Grosse Pointe Charles

Memory Lane - Christmas is for Children (November and December 1981)

My last post ended with Halloween, and Christy's first sighting of a Jack-o-Lantern. Halloween, from a point of view, is really the start of the holiday season. We decorate, we wear funny clothes, and we eat more than usual. Especially sugar. The kids have fun, too. And then on the first day of November, we begin our slow but certain descent into Thanksgiving.

Things aren't so obvious in the beginning. Life appears normal. We dine.

Have birthdays.

Play with our food.

Exercise (this swing was not like current motorized versions; I had to crank it up).

Figure things out.

Worry about the future.

But mostly just lie around and look cute. Glow even.

But before you know it, the next holiday is upon you. That year we spent Thanksgiving with my family up north in Linwood. It was a fun time for the growing brood of cousins who didn't get to see each other that often. Here's a pic of my parents home, set on a couple of acres on a country road northwest of Bay City.

A little dreary outside that weekend, but warm and cozy on the inside. Here are a few pics. The girls gathering in the kitchen, giddy about something. Maybe they were just happy to see me. From left to right my mother, sisters Wendy and Cindy, Wendy's eldest Jennifer, and Wendy's second daughter Melanie ducking behind Jennifer's elbow to avoid injury.  

These girls were busy doing other things.

Here is a rare group photo of the six grandchildren in business in 1981. From left to right Tristan (Wendy's son), Ted, Jennifer holding Christy, Melanie, and my brother Jeff's daughter Dee Dee (actually little Dolores). 

Some of us dressed better than others for the occasion, complete with party hat.

There were some important parenting moments, like this little father-daughter exchange.

And some heartfelt grandparenting moments like this thoughtful interlude shared by my dad and Ted.

And this "grandma knows best" lesson with my mother. You can just see the reality of this principle crystalizing in Christy's still forming (but eternally active) psyche.

Of course, the whole affair was expertly chaperoned by my parents' dog Eureka, usually referred to as just Reka. Aptly named as she was a foundling. 

She did have eyes, but they were not often seen through her curly coat. And she got along famously with this other curly member of the family, seen here in happy repose. 

Thanksgiving in our review mirror, we ambled back to our comfy Dearborn abode to prepare for the onslaught of the next holiday on the horizon.

A couple of years ago I published a trilogy of posts wherein I describe my personal conception of the annual holiday season. It began with the post subtitled The Launch, and continued with The Gauntlet and Splashdown. As we are now deep into the 2020 holiday season, you might derive some comfort from a re-read of those posts as a reminder that you are not alone in your desperation. 

But I must clarify that in 1981 life was simpler for me, as were the holidays. Things were less stressful, more even-paced and not at all like the whirlwind freefall described in my trilogy. Nonetheless, the holidays were still busy. The first series of events were gatherings with friends, formally and informally, to celebrate each other and our times together. Here are some pics.

These first few were of a cookie baking party with Bob A. previously introduced as the best man at our wedding. Bob and I became good friends when we were drafted together in 1970 and shared our basic training experience. There are some good stories from that time, but they'll have to wait for another day. As you can see, Bob was just the personality we wanted our kids to spend time with.

Here's a shot of Nancy with fellow IRS manager Brian C. at a holiday luncheon. 

We haven't heard much about Brian since he retired many years ago. He was a good friend to both of us for many years and a true kindred spirit. He, like many of our IRS friends, was a creative soul who stumbled into the IRS to earn a living. Brian was a talented musician, sketch artist and writer. And was a delight to spend time with.

Here's a memorable shot of Nancy with another, even closer old friend Bobby D., taken at a holiday gathering at Bob's house. 

You've seen Bob in this blog before, and will again. Bob had his issues. But when he was up, he was way up. And a true audiophile. My penchant for having high quality, multi-dimensional entertainment systems in every room came directly out of spending time with Bob and his toys. He had quite an influence on me. Unfortunately, Bob eventually came to a sad end, which I will get to in time. But this is how we remember him. A caring friend, sharp-witted and always up for fun.

Of course, it wasn't all about friends. The march to Christmas had many family moments, too. There was a holiday visit from Ted's sister Jamie, and another attempt to photograph this curious triumvirate. 

Chewies to gnaw over, for some of us.

Some serene moments to reflect on the wonderfulness of all the activity.

And of course, a lot of lying around looking cute.

Amidst the hoopla, the holiday itself eventually arrived. For us the celebration that year involved several days and multiple venues. It was a foreshadowing of what the future would involve, just on a smaller scale. There was the tree, of course. 

If you look closely, you might be able to tell by its asymmetrical beauty that this was a real tree (at least real before it fulfilled its destiny and hit the post-holiday curb). As with many if not most new couples, we were purists. Struggling with crooked trunks, unruly branches, daily watering to keep the tree from drying out and in my case an allergy to pine needles. But hey, it was cool.

Here is a shot of Christy's first "in-front-of-the-tree-Christmas-morning" experience. There'll be more of these.

We had Christmas morning at home, with a only a modicum of frenzy as Ted was modeling proper behavior for Christy. Here's a pic of Ted demonstrating his technique with Nancy and Christy looking on.

The early morning experience was a little much for the four-month old. She snuck in this cat nap between formal events.

Then it was over to Nancy's parents' house for more festivities. For some reason there are very few pics of that afternoon. But I did find this gem of Ted, crashing on Grandpa's bed on what I believe was a new sleeping bag, exhausted from the Number 1 day in the kid year. It appears he found his way there with a transformer in one hand, a Star Wars aircraft in the other, and a new lantern.

The next day we headed back up to my parents' place for more revelry. The cousins were there for a do-over of the Thanksgiving gathering. Here's cousin Melanie enjoying the aftermath of the gifting activities.

Ted and cousin Tristan were in high gear.

Cousin Jennifer, the oldest member of the gang, found some solace snuggling with Grandma.

Meanwhile, Grandpa and Ted took to the snow, first for chores.

And then some fun. Not sure who came out on top in this battle of the generations.

Meanwhile, Christy quietly took it all in from her special perch right in the middle of everything, comforted by her special find of the day - a big, fuzzy ball. 

Nancy and I enjoyed our time with the crowd, but were happy that the holiday energy had peaked and was slowly ebbing back to normal levels. Here's a pic of Nancy savoring a moment.

And one of me with my two favorite gifts of 1981, Christy and my new Christmas sweater. Hey. It was the '80s.

As the weekend visit came to an end, there was one more memorable shot. Here's Christy, crashed in place from all the stimulation. Note her footwear, or should I say lack of it. We didn't realize at the time that this would become a familiar scene. More to follow on this little personality foible.

Back in Dearborn for the end of the year, we relaxed. Ted was deep into what I refer to as his cowboy period, during which he liked to sport full western garb, including this vest.

And Christy, with her first Christmas under her belt, was becoming pretty ambulatory in her little scooter and learning about toys. 

That little yellow car on her tray was a present that year. After 40 years it's still part of our household, now as a part of our cache of grandchild amusements. It still looks good, and it's horn still squeaks.

This brings us to the end of 1981, and to the end of this post. Thanks for listening.

Happy holidays, everyone. I offer this closing thought for the event.

Twenty-twenty, I must say,

You are not invited to stay.

Please timely depart,

So we can all start,

Twenty-twenty-one. Hooray!

 Grosse Pointe Charles