Elizabeth: Browse The Strips

Monday, November 15, 2010

Lynn's Comments: When Aaron was born, Farley the dog was well established as part of the family. Certainly my first introduction to "training" another living thing was the DOG, and from time to time, I clapped my hands and shouted "NO!" to both kid and canine. (I stopped at spraying the kid with water or using a choke chain). Aaron was crawling around the same time he was teething, so kibble and other Farley fare was readily available. When I discovered Aaron teething on a Milkbone and enjoying the grit on his gums, I happily allowed him to indulge. Milkbones, after all, didn't disintegrate into mush like other teething biscuits and it was cheap. The smell of it on the breath of both my charges didn't bother me in the least. Compared to some of the other odors emitted, this was "kissing sweet".

Sunday, November 21, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Like most kids, I believed that all the drudge work belonged to Mom...the repairs and the maintenance belonged to Dad and that I was there to be fed, clothed and endured. I hadn't ASKED to be born...and therefore I was a perpetual guest. Seems that my parents didn't order a princess when they brought me into the mix and I was soon expected to clean up my squalor, help with the dishes and generally make myself useful. I rebelled. I felt cruelly done by. I lay down on the floor and howled at the injustice of it all. Despite the hardship and the unfairness of it all - I do remember having a distinct sense of pride and satisfaction once a chore was done.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Aaron did play hockey for a few seasons. I enjoyed watching the games but wasn't one of the screamers. Some parents literally hollered themselves hoarse, while I quietly clapped and waved to the kids on the ice. I wasn't a passive observer, though. I got involved! One of the things I learned quickly was that junior hockey depends on the many volunteer hours required to coach, drive, billet, clothe and feed the teams. The job I enjoyed most was in the arena coffee shop, making hot dogs and burgers and serving coffee. It was fun to meet everyone, and it kept me busy. Sitting in the bleachers in a town where the winter temperatures went down to -50 Celsius could be chilling, and even though I spent my weekends in the coffee shop - I was warm!

Saturday, November 27, 2010

Lynn's Comments: I let my frustration overflow sometimes, sending a tsunami towards my kids. What I discovered was - kids can accept an apology. This wasn't something my folks did too often. An apology was considered a sign of weakness, I guess. For me, it was just plain honesty. When I was at the end of my rope, all I could do was to let the kids know I was human, was in error and was sorry. I think a sincere apology comes from strength, not weakness. Sometimes it's the hardest thing to do but the results, in the end, are wonderful!

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Because we lived in such a bitter climate, warm clothing was a necessity. Gloves in particular had to be worn and accounted for. It didn't take long for hands and faces to freeze as kids forgot the temperature when they played outside. My mom-in-law, Ruth, kept a supply of extra gloves and I did too. Kids who were not wearing gloves, for some reason, would go home with a warm pair from our house. We lived halfway between the school and the end of town, so ours was the bathroom and the warming post for kids who needed to stop on the way home. I well remember trying to stuff rubbery, limp little fingers into tight gloves and from this I think the mitten was invented!

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Watching junior hockey was fun. These little players went as fast as they could with as much determination and energy as an NHL champ, undeterred by their wobbly legs and restricting gear. Close to the ice, they fell and landed in furious heaps, unscathed and ready to go for a goal. All around us, parents who were bent on winning shouted advice and admonishments in a roar that would wake the dead. The rink was a frigid metal building. The small row of heating elements above the bleachers did little more than keep us from freezing to our seats, but the energy kept us cheering for all the kids. Being a team would have to wait until they could manage to get from one end of the rink to the other without falling or forgetting what position they were meant to play. This is when hockey was fun and the kids came home exhausted and filled with pride for having done their very best.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Lynn's Comments: The Hudson's Bay store in Lynn Lake carried everything. In order to get to the grocery section, you had to go past the clothing and the toys - which were a magnet. Standing at the same height as the display shelves, Aaron would be nose to nose with a car or an action figure and his pleadings encouraged Kate to whine for a present as well. It was therefore a planned purchase dependent on the behavior of the supplicants and, much as I hate to admit it - a genuine bribe. "If you're not good, then, no toy!" Fortunately, at this age the value of the reward was not as important as the acquisition of something new and I could get away with something small, cheap and disposable. I often wonder what bribes cost today!

Friday, December 3, 2010

Lynn's Comments: My parents-in-law lived an easy 10 minute walk away and were the reason I was willing to move to a remote mining town in Northern Manitoba. We shared Christmas, Ruth and I, by dividing up the chores and helping each other clean up afterwards. (Christmas is always fun for the family - as long as "SOMEONE" does all the work!) This vignette was a "Patterson" situation. In the strip, the two sets of grandparents lived far from the family so their visits meant juggling bed space and were a welcome adjustment. Having them come to stay meant I could focus on them and show the readers who they were and what their personalities were like. I was lucky. I dearly loved my in-laws and I miss them both very much.

Sunday, December 12, 2010

Lynn's Comments: My mother did not like surprises...or so she said. Gift giving was always a challenge for me because she was effusive, no matter what the gift was, so it was hard to tell whether I'd made the right choice or not. Mom was an excellent seamstress. She could make anything - even patterns from scratch. I was working at Woodwards in Vancouver, making a salary for the first time, so Dad and I decided to pool our resources and get her a Bernina sewing machine for her birthday. It was the latest thing. It could make designs and buttonholes without a template and you could use several colours of thread at once. It was expensive, however, and Dad worried that she'd be angry with us for spending so much when we could hardly afford it. He had to tell her our plan. Naturally, she said "Absolutely not!" She wouldn't have us spending wantonly on something she could well do without. So...we got her a jewelry box instead. When she opened her gift, we could tell that Mom was bitterly disappointed. "What's the matter?" Dad asked- genuinely surprised by her reaction. Pressing a hanky to her eyes, she cried, "I thought I was getting a new sewing machine!!" Go figure. Gift giving was always an awkward time in our family. Any time we did it right - it was a surprise!

Monday, December 13, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Driving to a destination which requires a map means that yours truly is more than likely to miss an important turn off or happily follow the wrong signs. To avoid this misery, I have always given myself time to "get lost". This allows frustration to melt into a sort of \"adventurous" state of mind, wherein I explore my surroundings, take note of where I went wrong and promise myself I'll remember the next time. With two small kids in the back seat, wondering if we're "there yet" and teasing each other to make time go faster, I could hardly afford to get angry. I think now about all the technical devices available to keep one on track and I marvel. What would I have accomplished if I'd had a GPS? What would life on the road have been like if an ingeniously mounted, vehicle-friendly television screen had quietly entertained my offspring with programs of their choice? One thing I do know is that I would never have enjoyed the thrill of the chase and the excitement of seeing the correct corridor disappear beneath an overpass, taking me in the opposite direction! I would never have figured out for myself how to get from A to B - and isn't this all part of success? Why take the easy way when the wrong way can lead to something new? I ask myself. And I'm still waiting for the answer!

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Lynn's Comments: The airport in Lynn Lake was walking distance from the town. Every flight went over the houses and after awhile you could tell if it was a Twin Otter, the scheduled flight, or someone coming in for a fishing trip. Our Cessna 185 had a particular hum and this changed when the floats were removed and the skis added. I always knew when Rod was home from the villages up north. I would bundle up the kids and be at the airport to pick him up before he landed. As I recall, my parents only made the long journey once to see us. Aaron knew them both well, having spent time alone with them at their cottage in Hope, BC, but to Katie they were strangers. The joy of our reunion at the small outpost airport was lost on Kate, who hid behind my legs and maintained a wary reserve until they had settled into the house. It was Christmas and the fun of the season soon took over. I can still see her on my dad's knee singing and playing, now aware that she was with family.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Lynn's Comments: We wait so long to hear our children speak in clear, concise sentences. We correct their grammar, teach them the meanings of new words and how to incorporate them into their vocabulary. We rejoice in their learning - and then... we want them to shut up!!! By the time he was five, Aaron was reading well and speaking like an adult. I loved the baby talk, but my goal was to see him go as far as he could with the language and to enjoy its use. Katie too loved to learn and the hope was that with good communication, we would all be able to understand each other better. With the advent of language came the flood. Every movie was dissected and rehashed, every accomplishment, every thought, dream or accusation was gone over again and again. In short, there was non-stop talking. The trick was to pick up enough of the garble to prove you'd been listening and also to filter through the flow for the important stuff like: "the upstairs toilet is overflowing 'cause there's a sock in it." Interesting, isn't it, that when kids become teenagers and the need for real communication arises ...they don't want to say a thing!

Friday, December 17, 2010

Lynn's Comments: "Kafloompa- gush, kafloompa-gush" is my all time favorite sound effect. Coming up with words that suggest things like the screaming of brakes or the rumbling of thunder has been a sort of "art form" with cartoonists often claiming ownership. I was once accused of swiping Don Martin's (Mad Magazine) sound effects. I think the noises I came up with were "ka-thwanggg" or "ga-fwappp" or something like that. Perhaps these words were similar to Don's - but I hadn't stolen them! In the English language, there are only so many ways to spell the sound of a cream pie hitting the side of a head or a mouthful of cold peas being spat onto a plate. Years ago, I saw an article about Rice Crispies and how "snap, crackle and pop" was written in other languages. Some of the examples were: "knisper, knasper, knusper", "rix, rax, rox," and "piff, paff, poff" none of which I thought were as descriptive as the English. So, cartoonists will continue to come up with written sound effects as long as there are images that require them and if anyone should choose to incorporate "kafloompa-gush" into their art, I will consider it, with humility and gratitude, to be a genuine compliment.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Katie, more than Aaron, was fascinated by the toilet. The fact that things simply disappeared was magic. After overcoming her need to keep everything that was HERS, and agreeing to let creations of a personal nature travel on to the pipes below, she wanted to flush anything that would fit into the porcelain receptacle. Socks, toys, and toothbrushes found themselves trapped in the bowels of our bathroom, awaiting a rescue and a wash. I was partly to blame. When a small boat couldn't be retrieved and tears ensued, I told her that it had gone out to sea and was happily floating off to explore the world beyond. With this in mind, it occurred to her that other things might want to escape the confines of home as well. The sound of flushing was suddenly a reason to drop whatever was at hand and run to the nearest bathroom. The day we bought our own "worm" was the day we gave up, braced ourselves for more flushings (despite warnings, admonishments and time outs) and looked forward to the day when other things would capture her interest. Unfortunately, neither of our kids was ever fascinated by laundry.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Lynn's Comments: My dad made up words to stories and songs all the time: "When shepherds washed their socks by night", "We three Kings of orient are trying to smoke a rubber cigar" and "round John virgin" were all part of our holiday hymns. Naturally, when I read to my brother, it behooved me (a good word at reindeer time) to change the words. Part of the game was in our having memorized the book or song sheet, so a funny alteration was a challenge and something of an expectation. Every so often I will see a youngster reading from memory, hardly looking at the words and these scenes come back to me. Thank goodness for memories.... and Christmas memories are some of the best!

Monday, December 20, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Yes, grandparents are a wonderful invention. I was lucky to have had the best parents-in-law one could ask for. Ruth and Tom Johnston were the models for the grandparents you see here. I used their photographs to get a likeness and their personalities were incorporated as well. I was so glad my kids had a rich and healthy connection to at least one set of grandparents. My folks lived on the other side of the country and were not able to see the children too often.

My own grandparents were either distant in miles or distant in sentiment. The only recollection I have of my paternal grandfather was “putting him out” when he fell asleep sitting up on the couch in our living room. He would smoke home rolled cigs, and the paper would be stuck to his bottom lip while the lit end smoldered and dropped hot ashes on his shirt. I remember slight plumes of smoke rising from his chest and Grandma whacking him with a dishcloth to put out the fire! My dad’s mom was a round lady with a strong domestic streak who was at home in the kitchen – but I do remember seeing photos of her in buckskins, in the snow, holding a rifle! That’s another story.

My mom’s folks were British and rather “upper crust”. Although they appreciated us, my brother and my cousins and I all had to be seen and not heard. In the strip, I had both sets of grandparents play a meaningful role – even though they lived in Winnipeg and Vancouver. In my imagination, it could all be just the way I wanted it to be!

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Kevin, who does my colouring (and other graphic necessities), asked me to put an extra strip into this week of dailies in order to make the dates coordinate with the 2010 calendar. This was fun to add, and brought back memories of cleaning out the fireplace for Santa's nocturnal arrival. We had a large fireplace in the Lynn Lake house and sweeping it out was as much of a ritual as cutting the tree. First the charred wood was disposed of, then the grate was cleaned and the alcove swept and vacuumed out so Santa wouldn't get any soot on the rug. In front of the fireplace we would then set out Katie's little blue table and chairs on which was ceremoniously placed a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. The stockings were hung from nails under the mantelpiece and were always big, woolly ones made for northern winters. Aaron, being older, already knew about Santa but it was a long time before the mystery was explained to Katie. I think the best Christmases are the ones we share near a fireplace with people who believe in magic!

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Lynn's Comments: In Lynn Lake, we had Christmas morning to ourselves and after lunch we'd walk over to Ruth and Tom's house for more openings and Christmas dinner. My in-laws always gave us practical gifts, so this strip was just for fun. Nobody gave the kids horns and drums - they were noisy enough as it was. Sitting in their living room surrounded by family and food, paper and presents is an image I'll keep with me forever. What you see in this strip is all of us the way we were at a time when life was perhaps more complicated, but far less stressful. Memories and magic is what Christmas is all about.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Lynn's Comments: The Lynn Lake theatre was an easy walk from the house. If one of us took the kids to a movie, the other could have a few hours to catch up. One of my favorite things to do is to "organize"! I love to throw things out and often regret having done so. The alternative, though, is to have too much stuff! What a luxurious problem to have. One day while the kids were out, I did go through their things. I gave much of what I thought was forgotten and ready to recycle to the church for the annual bake and rummage sale. This event was always well attended. I took Katie and Aaron with me to enjoy the tea and the treasure hunt, forgetting there would be a number of their things in the sale. They immediately identified their own toys and I dutifully bought back the things they weren't ready to part with! I learned to ask first, and to let them choose what to give away and what to save!

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Once both kids adjusted to the idea that mom and dad were really going to leave them, they settled in to Grandma's house without much fuss. Two weeks would go by fast, and maybe we'd bring a few presents when we came home! Aaron took his teddy and Katie took her bunny. Both had been lovingly made by my mom and were washed so often, they had that floppy, misshapen look of a toy well loved. Being the eldest child gave Aaron some confidence and I knew he'd accomplish something new while we were away. Ruth prided herself in setting goals for the children. "By this time, you'll be reading at this level"- or, "by this date, you'll be out of diapers". Her years as an elementary school teacher had given her endless patience - at least where the grandkids were concerned. (Her own kids told a different story!) So, while we chose the things we'd take on our holiday, Ruth found things for Katie and Aaron to do while we were away. We were so lucky. We were so privileged - and we knew it, too!

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When I did this, Katie was well into the language learning curve and her baby talk was a lot of fun. For years, well after her move into adult vocabulary, we used her words ourselves, not wanting to lose the charm and the memory. "Blaffoon" was "bathroom", "puffermink" was "peppermint" and "bleffus" was "breakfast". These were all part of our vocabulary until she went to university! It was hard not to perpetuate the errors. Talking baby talk to our offspring was not our style, and yet we loved the sounds and the new words they invented as they learned how to communicate. It was interesting to see how a newfound ability with language made for nonstop talking. You can't wait for them to be able to tell you what they're thinking ... and, later - you're wishing they'd be QUIET!!! The dialogue in this strip went exactly as written, except that I kept the punch line to myself!

Monday, January 3, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Our first real vacation was to Barbados. In order to get there, we had to take the Twin Otter to Thompson Manitoba, the jet from there to Winnipeg and then transfer to our flight south. For this reason alone, we were glad to be sans enfants. It would be a long trip and we were used to having our own plane and our own schedule. I did feel guilty for leaving. Aaron especially was aware that we were going away. Katie was just confused. My parents-in-law looked forward to having the kids to themselves. Ruth always had a plan and this was her opportunity to work on reading habits, table manners and bathroom toilette. Rather than begrudge the interference, I adored her for her patience and practicality. If it was up to me, I'd have left a lot of this stuff 'til they were tweens!

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The Lynn Lake airport was a small building with no separation between the ticket counter and the door to the tarmac. There was a small office and a washroom, but nothing to separate the departing from the departed from! The kids always wanted to watch the plane take off. If it was cold enough (and it usually was!) the snow would be a fine, light powder and when the props got up to speed, they blew a swirling cloud of snow up and around the loading area, which was exciting to see. I remember the kids' faces pressed against the window as we prepared for takeoff and I wanted to hug them one more time! I knew, however that they would soon be at Ruth and Tom's house, warm and safe, ready to chow down on homemade buns and hot oatmeal porridge.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Katie was an attractive little kid and I fell into the "momtrap" of wanting her to look as cute as possible at all times. I had the adorable outfits, the velvet dresses, hats, scarves and mittens that matched her "girlie" snowsuits. I combed her hair just so and awaited the gooey compliments that come while showing off a preened and perfect princess. Kate, however wanted nothing to do with looking cute. Being comfortable was far more important. So was wearing what she darned well wanted to wear! She was determined and stubborn and it was abundantly clear by the time she was three, that what she wore would be a compromise. The red hat was actually a patterned toque and I would have drawn it that way, except that the pattern was too hard to draw and too hard to colour!

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Lynn's Comments: In this part of the north, the temperature often went below -40 degrees Celsius (same as -40 Fahrenheit!) With a wind chill, it was even colder. Your face would freeze within minutes and breathing was difficult. A hooded parka was a must - the fur trim essential. It was dangerous to fly on these days, as metal stress was a factor to consider and any mechanical problems were exacerbated by the cold. The fog assured us that the air had warmed enough for takeoff, but the ceiling had to be within landing specs or we'd be returned to Winnipeg. With a good landing system in Lynn Lake and pilots well on the ball, we arrived in one piece, glad to be home, anxious to see the kids and dying for Ruth's coffee and fresh baking.

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Lynn's Comments: No matter how open-minded you are, no matter how cooperative the relationship, there is always a sort of competition between mom and caregiver. Ruth's parenting style was something I admired and respected, but it was different! When I came home, I wanted to resume my role as the alpha female! After two weeks in her care, Aaron and Katie were now doing things Ruth's way and it took some time before they returned to the nest I had built. Ruth had given them a new routine and some new rules. I felt as though I could be replaced and I voiced this thought in FBorFW. Seeing this in pen and ink was like writing a letter to myself. It cleared my head. It made things better. Sometimes the strip provided an outlet that was healing and healthy for all of us!

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Now that I have adult children, I can well understand our parents' constant reference to the past. In retrospect my own children were adorable, bright, funny and respectful. Most of the time. Set well into the recesses of aging memory are the times we would gladly have drop kicked them off a bridge and rejoiced in the sound of the SPLASH below! If I work at it, I can remember being so angry that I was completely out of control. Only escape, a heart to heart with a good friend and time would stem the rage, let me see the bright side and eventually cool me down. There is much to be said for having passed through the parenting phase and into senior citizenship. I have paid my dues and am enjoying the company of two children I'm proud to see productively out on their own. I consider them my equals - even though I remind them to eat well and keep warm and I call them "Beans and A.J."

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Goodbyes are always hard for kids. Perhaps it's because they are focused on today; they don't think so much about the future. Even tomorrow is too far away! As adults we are aware of how fast time flies and how quickly the next event will take place - often long before we're prepared for it. My father's family came from Ontario one time to visit us in North Vancouver. I remember playing with cousins I hardly knew. We were just figuring out the pecking order when they had to leave - and their departure was "forever". We cried as if we'd never see each other again - and in truth, that was just about the case! Living so far away, our relationship was then by phone and greeting card. We didn't reunite and become friends until Alan and I left home and moved back to Ontario. Saying goodbye is easier now with email and Skype, but still...there's nothing like being within hugging distance of friends and family.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When I was about 14, my father's mother came to stay with us. My grandfather had died. She was recovering slowly and Dad thought it would be good for her to come and live with us for a while, since he and Mom worked full time at the jewelry store on Upper Lonsdale. Alan and I would have been "latchkey" kids by today's standards, but we were fine on our own. We had our routines. I made dinner and he stayed out of my way. When Grandma came, she upset the applecart by assuming my kitchen duties and my mother's role as well. She became another authority figure, which my brother and I really resented. To add insult to injury, she took my bedroom and I was given a corner in the unfinished basement - a space as famous for its spooks as it was for its spiders. After six long months, Grandma finally returned to Ontario. Al and I rejoiced and I did something I rarely ever did: I completely mucked out my bedroom. Even though she had gone, the essence of Grandma remained in the scent of her soap, her clothing and her dark-gummed dentures which she'd kept in a glass cup on my dresser. For some time, the smell of Grandma lingered in the halls and the living room. She was still there, even though we had the house to ourselves again. That incident was the memory behind this comic strip!

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Lynn's Comments: They say that "normal" means different things to different people. For us, normal morphed from one reality into another as the kids grew and changed and became individuals. When they were little, reality was toys - everywhere. Later, it was friends - everywhere - and the sounds of sports, music and video games. Normal didn't become tidy and organized and quiet until they both moved out. Then, normal meant projects and travel and missing them. I went to visit friends of my daughter's recently. Brooke and Matthew have twin daughters, six months old. The girls are just starting to toddle and their small living room is strewn with blankets and toys. Brooke apologized for the mess. I said, "Don't worry, relax - I understand. You have two little kids! ...This is normal!!!"

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When my dad went to the dump, we always wondered if he'd bring home more than he left there. The North Vancouver dump was about 6 miles from home, then a circuitous drive down a long dirt road. Going there was as exciting as anything we ever did on a weekend and my brother and I would fight for the front seat when we saw the folks pitching stuff into the back end of the car. A great chain link fence ran around the "nuisance grounds" and the "dump man" would meet us at the gate. He'd roll his cigarette into the side of his mouth and ask what we were bringing in. Then he'd direct us to the appropriate space in the compound and Dad would steer the old green Volvo into position for the drop. After we'd made our deposit, we were free to check out the scattered offerings hoping to find some treasure. The smell of wet paper, burning fabric and decay was not too bad - considering the fact that stuff here was FREE, so we happily climbed over the rubble on our quest for the perfect thing to rescue and take home. Our shoes took a beating, but all for a good cause. The dump man was cool. He didn't have a uniform, but he had a sort of military air. He enjoyed his place of authority and the fact that dad brought him a beer now and then improved our chances of getting out with something big! The score I remember most was the goose-neck lamp that dad found. It was a sort of greeny-grey....brass, I think, and not too badly scarred from the fire. The cord and plug looked good and Pop figured this was just the thing to go on his workbench downstairs. Mom, of course, was unimpressed and quietly told me later that she expected it would be gone in a fortnight - if she had anything to do with it. Advance to the year they sold their house and moved to Hope. The lamp went too. When our parents passed away, there in the basement on Dad's workbench was the goose-neck lamp. It had followed them for 40 years and was now an heirloom. The trouble with heirlooms is...the heirs have to decide what to do with them. Alan and I thought about taking it to the dump, but we couldn't. Alan is retired from teaching, now and has a workshop in his basement. He makes one-of-a-kind kayaks. He has a nice workbench where he cuts the wood and copper, which he carefully sets into the sides of his kayaks... and, illuminating the workbench, is the goose-neck lamp. Going to the dump has lost its luster for us now, but our memory of Dad's "hunt for treasure" and the goose-neck lamp still remains!