Our Sunday Best: Browse The Strips

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Even now I lose my temper like this, but I recognize the feeling. I holler, fume, storm about the house and ...then I need to talk to someone! I remember being in such a state when I was about 10, that I stabbed the desk in my room repeatedly with a pair of scissors. Sounds drastic, but that's what I did. We all know how it feels to be beyond angry, to have no control and to do something that is spontaneous, outrageous and really out of character. In remembering how I felt when I destroyed my desk, I tried to love my kids just a bit more, hug them just a little tighter when they were at their (and my) wits' end. This calmed us both down enough to be able to talk about what was wrong. Sometimes the most unlikely response to bad behaviour is the one that works.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Lynn's Comments: In 1974, after my first divorce, I dated a psychiatrist. One of his standby pieces of advice was to NOT think about serious things after midnight. This, he said, was a twilight zone where emotional fatigue and the onset of dreaming make sensible, rational thought all but impossible. He said it was best not go to bed angry, but at the same time, the chances of problem solving when you're tired are slim. The "twilight zone" thing has stayed with me since then and I have given others this same advice. The problem is...your problems all seem to surface when you're relaxed, have the day's chores behind you and the kids are asleep. Sometimes you HAVE to talk things over when you and your partner are in bed, because in today's busy household there are few other opportunities! So, despite the warning from my sweet psychiatrist, I would open up after dark and talk about whatever it was that was bothering me. Fortunately the broaching of sensitive topics never resulted in late night fisticuffs. My husband, sedated by the sound of my voice, happily slept right through it!

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Cartoonists are discouraged from using comic strips as a platform for preaching reform - but every now and then, something really gets under your skin and you simply have to write about it. For me, littering is a red flag. If I ruled the world all convicted litterists would receive a stiff fine, a broom and a dustpan. They would be sentenced to cleaning the community streets, parks and beaches for as long as it took to reform them - and even then, they would be on parole. When Katie cut her foot on a broken beer bottle at the beach one weekend, I penned this Sunday page - and the response was immediate. I received a lot of mail from folks who feel the same way I do - and it occurred to me: with so many people angry, frustrated and disgusted by littering, why do we still have so darned much of it??!!

Sunday, July 24, 2011

Lynn's Comments: It amazes me how resilient and stoic some dogs are with young children. They put up with being sat on, pulled at and strangled. Their patience and good humour is remarkable. They seem to instinctively know that babies don't know any better and just have to learn. On the other hand, some dogs can't tolerate young children at all. Some bark and snarl, some just ignore kids and walk away. Amazing, isn't it... to see how often dogs behave like people!

Sunday, July 31, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Aaron used to be up and running at 4 or 5 in the morning. Food and dressing took an hour, but there were usually 2 hours left before I took him to daycare. Exhausted, I'd lie on the couch as he ran from room to room, jumped on the furniture and on me. Sometimes, I'd actually fall asleep and this was when he'd go into the kitchen cupboards and find the stuff he shouldn't have. This scenario really happened... and both of us survived to tell the tale!

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Lynn's Comments: It doesn't bother me now. In fact, a mosquito in the room when I was married meant a 50% chance of being bitten and I could sleep quite comfortably. When I was a kid, however, the high-pitched whine of a hungry insect drove me nuts. I'd turn on the light and take whatever time it required to hunt it down and do it in. I considered myself to be an excellent sniper. I'd wait for however long it took for the prey to appear and SMACKKK!!! I won. I fairly ruled the summer night until my brother showed me an article that said, statistically, we eat at least 3 spiders in our lifetime - they crawl into our open mouths while sleeping. AAAAAUGH!!!!!!

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Lynn's Comments: It's strange how we slip from being careless and sloppy to fanatically clean. For years, I maintained a house so tidy you could enter any room and find every last thing in place. My lingerie was rolled, folded and colour coordinated, my linens were in perfect piles, my bathroom cabinets immaculate. Even if it was out of sight, my stuff was in order. Now that I live on my own, however, I have reentered the "who gives a ****" phase of life and I view my habitation much as I did as a kid of 10. I haven't made my bed since last week. My work has spilled into the dining room where I can easily get to it and if the dishes sit on the counter overnight...ehhh! I don't do laundry until I run out. I don't pick stuff up until I have to - and I can only describe this lack of decorum as liberating. The other day as I was leaving my bedroom comfortably littered, I distinctly heard my mother say "For heaven's sake stop living like a hermit and take care of this mess!" I thought about all the times I railed at my own kids for living in squalor and I sympathized with them. No matter how well you pick up after yourself, a place is going to deteriorate. I figure "what's the point?" So, like a kid, I only clean up if I have to. My incentive is company. Every time the mess gets to the point of no return, I invite friends for dinner. It's time again to shovel out, so...yesterday, I bought steak.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The Odeon Theatre was a two-mile walk from my house on 5th Street in North Vancouver. The Saturday afternoon matinee was always packed with kids, looking forward to a double bill, separated by a cartoon, a newsreel, and a commercial. This was the arena into which we crushed ourselves: rich, poor, native, and new immigrants, to tease, shove, joke, and annoy each other until the screen lit up with whatever Hollywood had to offer. My routine was to go early and be first in line, so I could get the pick of the seats. Somewhere in the 6th row, near the middle was best and if the crowd exceeded the seating then wooden orange crates were set out in front of the screen for the slackers. I once watched Tarzan from the orange crates. All I could see was Johnny Weismuller's enormous feet and tiny head, all out of focus. We talked through the dialogue, cheered with the action, groaned when the kissing started, and laughed at the cartoons 'til we wet our seats. This was kid heaven. Here at the theatre, we were all equals. The movies brought us together at a time when so many things tore us apart. The Odeon theatre is gone, now. This Sunday cartoon brought it back to me!

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Women have a sixth sense when it comes to their men folk "checking out the competition". A subtle sidelong glance will be transmitted to our waving antennae and we know that our partner has not only seen but has evaluated another female. Deny it he might, but we know it happened. Guys do this as instinctively as a hound sniffs a tree. Fortunately, wives and girlfriends are now countering this behaviour by accepting it as normal and natural, by understanding and communicating their feelings...and by doing a little ogling of their own.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This has to be one of my favorite Sunday pages. Aaron often came into my room early in the morning and talked to me while I was half asleep. Katie had no reservations about running outside in the buff. Combine these two elements and I had a good gag. I had fun with the illustration- most of all I loved doing the expressions on the faces of the characters. Facial expressions and body language are as important as the punch line and I erased Michael's sly smile several times before it was right on! Sunday comics like this one were fun to read when they came out in the paper. I would read this strip as if I were a stranger who'd never seen it before. If it made me laugh again then, I knew I had a good one!

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Caring for offspring was something I could grasp, but feeding was often contentious. Once they had tasted sweet stuff, fried stuff and Cheezies, nutrition went out the window. I bribed, teased and created live theatre around spoons full of meatstuff and veggies. I made my kids stare at plates of cold casserole. I told them they'd never grow big. I said they'd get nothing else until the next day if they didn't eat what was in front of them and I'd take the plate away. The trouble was- we lived in a friendly neighbourhood. More than once, I found Aaron and Katie in the lane, sniffing the air and wondering which neighbour deserved a mealtime visit. The fact that they could get a snack next door was something I grew to accept and in retaliation, the neighbours' kids were often fed by me!

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We were living in a log house and having renovations done. A number of workmen, strangers to me, were coming and going at the time. One night the phone rang. The receiver was on my side of the bed. I answered, expecting it to be the Dental "on call" service, but a man's voice said something I couldn't quite understand. I had been in a deep sleep and wasn't prepared for a conversation. "What??" I said. He repeated whatever it was but I still couldn't understand. He said something vaguely suggestive, but I wasn't able to pick up the thread. He eventually gave up and asked if I knew who it was. I said I did not and he seemed surprised. At this point, I just wanted to go back to sleep, but he asked again if I recognized his voice and I said I didn't. Satisfied that he'd remain unknown, he hung up. The next day I was convinced it had been one of the guys who was working on the house. One, in particular, was a bit of a wild card and I wondered if it had been him. It amazed me to think how vulnerable and anxious I felt, even though the call had been clumsy and short. Somebody was "watching" me in an unhealthy way and it made me nervous and wary until the project was over and the strangers were gone. I tried to imagine what someone who had been seriously threatened would feel and how long, if ever, they would take to get over it.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This is another example of something I just made up. In fact, I don't remember my husband taking the kids to buy groceries - this was my job and I enjoyed it. This is a gag that I knew had been done by other cartoonists, and yet, I did it again.

Sunday, October 2, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My method for writing strips was to stretch out on the couch with a lined pad of paper on my lap and imagine myself in the Patterson kitchen at suppertime. It didn't take long for the characters to begin a conversation and I would listen in. Like a tape recorder, I could run the commentary back and forth, change or modify the answers, and if luck was with me, I'd get a funny line. I remember being particularly happy with this one and wondering again, where the idea had come from. It was too good (I thought) to have come from ME!

Sunday, October 9, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Any intimate partnership must pass the "sick" test before it can be called a serious relationship. Cohabitation requires us to accept, endure, and be considerate of our "significant other's" health concerns. Your partner's audible woe is an opportunity: every sympathetic gesture, every coo of understanding, and every expression of concern that you offer, are bankable brownie points to be redeemed when it's YOUR turn to be sick. And misery, as we all know, loves company!

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Katie and Aaron made their own Monopoly rules when the ones that came with the game didn't suit them. This is a shortened version of their game including "Va-Boogah!" which, was best shouted through a mouthful of Cheezies. These were the days before interactive video games and I often wonder if this was more fun.

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The town of Lynn Lake was small enough that kids could be out on their own and you knew they wouldn't be much more than a block away. Even so, one of us always accompanied the trick or treaters - as much for the social interaction as for their safety. Aaron resented having Kate along - he didn't like to be slowed down. So this didn't happen. This was another "what if" moment. What if Lizzie's appearance resulted in more loot?

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Kate and Aaron both slept with one stuffed toy. It was me who filled my bed with stuffed animals and slept around them when I was a kid. My favourite was a koala bear that my grandmother brought back from Tasmania for me. It was real kangaroo hide and I loved him until his fur was almost gone. My brother stole him away from me once, insisted on sleeping with him, and then wet his bed. Mom couldn't wash my koala because he was leather, so her advice was to let him sit on the windowsill and air out: "In time he will be less 'whiffy'" she said. But he stank for years, so "Whiffy" was what I called him. I still have old "Whiff" in my china cabinet. He's sweeter smelling, now, and still well loved.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This is another glimpse from my childhood. My dad was the kind of guy who loved to build go-karts and tree houses and water slides on the lawn. Even though it wasn't cool to do stuff with your parents, a day with Dad always ended with a trophy of some kind: something built or found or eaten. When we weren't building stuff, we were hitting the dump or scrounging in the workshop and after that, we'd go to the Dairy Queen. The BIG cone cost a quarter and was almost too big to eat. It was when we had grown up a bit that we stopped hanging out with Dad. We'd give him excuses for why we weren't into making stuff or going out and it hurt him to see us change. I do remember him taking the neighbour's kid out for an ice cream cone and wondering, "Why isn't he taking me?" - knowing full well that I'd cut him out of my circle of friends. I just wanted him to be a dad. What I didn't know was that he was being a dad and - he was exceptional!

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Before my folks took over Shore's Jewellers in North Vancouver, my dad worked for the main store on Hastings Street. Every morning he'd walk to the bottom of Lonsdale and take the ferry into the city. Like clockwork, he'd come back on the return ferry at 5:30 and be home on the dot of 6:00pm. We knew exactly when he'd be home. Alan and I would wait like two giddy, wagging dogs, ready to pounce on him. His arrival was a big part of the family routine. It heralded a call to dinner, then (after homework) an evening of board games or TV. We'd watch something like "Gun Smoke" or "Walt Disney Presents" before going to bed. How lucky we were. I still remember the smell of my dad's raincoat as I buried my face in it. I remember being picked up so I could look directly into his eyes and thinking it must be wonderful to be so tall. I remember him kissing me and hugging me and swinging me around when he came home. When I drew this strip, I thought about how much I loved him and how love never runs out.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Here is where my folks differed a great deal; my dad was always up for a hug, Mom was not. She needed her space and didn't appreciate being interrupted when she was in the middle of something - even for a bit of cuddling. She was always very busy. Life wasn't easy for the moms of the 50's. We had no car. We had a wringer washer, a leaky icebox, and a gas stove that required an engineering degree to operate. She made bread regularly and most of our clothing. She canned fruit, grew a veg and flower garden, and did all the paper work for the family and the business. She shopped and cooked and cleaned and took care of two active kids, so when she did get a few minutes to herself, she wanted to be left alone - Please! She had endless patience. She could do or fix or make just about anything. She was an artist and a writer and she should have gone to university - except that her father didn't believe in educating women! To him, it was a waste of money and time. Mom was an amazing person. We respected and admired her. She worked so hard. She gave and did so much... but, it was our dad who supplied the affection.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Lynn's Comments: A big kid in my neighbourhood once told me that my butt would fall off if I unscrewed my belly button. I believed him. I have an "inny" and it was hard to see just how the "button" was engineered in there. In fear of dire consequences, I asked my dad if this was true and he laughed out loud. He assured me that my belly button was a permanent decoration and I was not to worry about losing my behind. He did tell me, however, that if I screwed up my face... it would stay that way.

Sunday, December 18, 2011

Lynn's Comments: By listing their names, I was able to say "hello" to a number of dear friends in this strip. When it appeared in the paper, I looked forward to their inevitable calls. So often my friends would say, "you'd better not put me in the paper!" But when I did, they were always thrilled.

Sunday, December 25, 2011

Lynn's Comments: After all of the preparations and expense; after the cards and the phone calls and the waiting for the clan to gather, the actual day of celebration seemed to be over in a flash. After getting the kids to sleep and the kitchen cleaned up I remember falling into bed dead tired, buzzing from too much food, company and excitement. Still, the sleep that came after everything was over was a deep and satisfying one- knowing I had a whole year to prepare for the next Christmas!

Sunday, January 1, 2012

Lynn's Comments: One of the concerns my husband had at the dental clinic was well meaning moms wanting to be in the operatory to "help calm their children". Typically, the child would be fine with the dental staff and the doctor but mom would insist on being there--that's when the problems began. I remember him telling me about a mother who watched the procedure in silence until he was ready to inject the anesthetic. Then she said to her son in a sing-song voice; "Here comes the needle!!" The child immediately started to howl and the process was delayed until he settled down. Just knowing that mom was listening in might be enough for a nervous or high maintenance kid to start a row. So the farther the parent was separated from the patient the better.

I did this strip a few months after this actual incident occurred. The characters were changed to protect the identities of the patient and his mom. As far as I know, they never did see the connection!

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Settling disputes between the offspring usually fell to me and there were times when I had no patience left to work with. I was so tired of the constant, petty squabbles to care. If the kids could go outside, they'd be too occupied to start a row, but inside, the tug-of-war waged on and I would often be at the "end of my rope".

I would envy the guys who disappeared into their workshops to "get stuff done". It was hard to deny them the time they spent over an oily valve or a piece of lumber or a broken pipe. This was, after all, essential to the household maintenance. The cool, quiet ambience of the workshop was a perfect place to spend an afternoon. Guys dropping by to give advice or lend a hand were welcome. They'd lean comfortably against the doorframe, chewing the fat, and hoping for a beer to materialize. Sometimes they even got sandwiches and cake! It might take a day to fix a gadget or repair a hose--time well spent according to the men folk, but... an entire day?!!

Some of my friends had hunter/fishermen in the family and when the weekend came, their men folk would go off to the call of the wild. The women kept the home fires burning and the small fry in line. When we came into contact with each other, we'd compare notes about the absent spouses. What did the guys REALLY do while we held down the fort? Mystery loves company. So, while I went along with the social flow, I resented it as well. Situations like this found their way into For Better or For Worse and I was always comforted by the responses from other moms who said, "That happens at OUR house, too!" It was wonderful to know I wasn't alone.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Katie did chew her mittens--right through the thumb. This strip was another cry of angst from her mom. My kids were often lucky that I could "use" this material!

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Here is another word for word exchange between my husband and me. The punch line was exactly as written. I didn't toss a measuring cup--but I sure wanted to. This resulted in his taking over the pressing of his own shirts and clinic gowns--until we hired a housekeeper who came once a week and actually enjoyed ironing!

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Lynn's Comments: After looking for the bathtub plug for some time, I once settled on a spud that fit right into the hole. I'll do anything to have a nice, hot bath! Years later, I was visiting friends in Cuba. A neighbour kindly invited us to her house for dinner and when we went to do the dishes afterwards, there was no plug in the sink. She was about to use a soup pot to wash up in when I saw a basket of fresh potatoes under the counter. I selected one the right size and popped it into the hole.

Potato is "papa" in Spanish and the word for plug is "tapa". So, I said, "Look! You have a papa for a tapa!" She laughed and I promised her that I would bring her a plug the next day. My friends and I went to every hardware store in Havana and could not find a simple rubber stopper for a sink! There were a number of things we couldn't find: a large garbage pail with a lid, a good pair of scissors, and masking tape--these things are found everywhere back home. I couldn't believe that these small, useful items that we all take for granted were so hard to find.

The following year, I went back to Cuba. I took our friend a plug for her sink and a number of other things. She was more than pleased--she was grateful. Circumstances there are different now. Cuba has opened up and stores are able to carry more products. I still visit my friends and we always recall the time I used a papa for a tapa... a little trick I brought from home.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Lynn's Comments: This is me. These are my words. This is also my mother and her logic. I could waste an entire day lying on the couch, wishing I was someone else, somewhere else, wondering why I had to wait so long to be out of the house and on my own. I wasn't even a teenager at the time--I was in elementary school. As a teen, I was involved in too many projects and clubs and activities to be bored.

As a child, I was either off in a world of fantasy or trying to figure out why life was the way it was. I wanted to know why I was there, what I was going to do when I grew up, and I wanted to get started NOW! A day was so long and a week was forever. I figured I was wasting time. It wasn't until I was sent to the Vancouver School of Art for Saturday morning classes that I felt secure. For some kids, it's sports that get them out and energized. For me and for many of my friends, it was art that filled us with a sense of purpose.

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Lynn's Comments: This was an inside joke between Gunther Hildebrandt, a long time family friend, and ourselves. Gunther enjoyed reading the news and discussing current events, especially with my father-in-law. Together, they would solve the problems of the world. Gunther loved to talk, so in this strip I am having a bit of fun at his expense. The dental clinic was never the place to have a really good conversation, especially for the patient.

Gunther was a good sport. In fact, friends and family always enjoyed seeing their names, and it undoubtedly resulted in mail and phone calls from their own friends and family, from all across the continent, saying, "I saw you in the funny papers!"