Elizabeth: Browse The Strips

Monday, February 7, 2011

Lynn's Comments: For some reason, we lost a week of dailies. We looked in the archives, pulled out old negatives and checked the collection books--and still, six days out of this year were missing. After an exhaustive search, Kevin called and asked me to draw up a new week of dailies to fill in the space and keep the year's work on track. This is the week! I tried to do a series of spot gags that could be placed anywhere and ideas regarding kids vs. grown ups quickly came to mind. I introduced this by having Mike hog-tie Elizabeth (something I loved to do to my kids!) which meant he was bored and would soon be under the watchful eye of his mother. It was fun to do. I haven't had to produce new FBorFW material for a while, and I was surprised by how easy it was to get back into the routine. The trouble is--what used to take me a few hours now takes me a few days, and I was glad to have it "in the can" and off to the syndicate.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When I was a kid, we had a dark maroon vacuum cleaner. My mother, having given in to anything "safe" that would keep us occupied, allowed my brother and me to roll marbles down the hose into the basement. We advanced from marbles to Plasticine "heads" which we chopped off Plasticine bodies on a guillotine made from Tinker Toys. Coins, buttons, stones and gumballs took the plunge and if recovery at the bottom didn't happen, we waited for an outpouring of angst from mother the next time she tried sucking chalk and cereal off the carpeting. The exhaust end of the vacuum was another source of entertainment. We tried to inflate balloons, kitchen gloves, and the bulb on the turkey baster--imaginary missiles we hoped to inflict on the neighborhood. Those were the days! Drawing images like this brings back some fine childhood memories and makes me wonder once again why our parents allowed Alan and I to progress into adulthood.

Monday, February 21, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We got a new fridge shortly after moving north. I ordered it from the Sears catalogue - which was the one stop shopping for everyone living in the "boonies". Everything came by train or truck and often took weeks to materialize. Clothing was always a risk - just because we all went to the same functions and were often caught wearing the same things. My new fridge was a beauty. I organized everything inside and put some colourful alphabet magnets on the door in preparation for the photos, notes and doodles I looked forward to hanging there. Kate, who was toddling and full of mischief, saw the magnets and before I could stop her, started to "scrub" them around, scratching the surface of my new fridge. I had only had it one day before it was "broken" in - and I was broken hearted. "Not sweating the small stuff" was hard sometimes!

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When the kids were small, the work involved often filled a day. By suppertime when laundry, cleaning, shopping and meals were done, I wondered where the time had gone. It wasn't until the dishes were done and the kids in bed that I could sit down - without guilt - and enjoy the paper. It's amazing how "invisible" a housekeeper's job is! For those who share the home and enjoy the fruits of "Mom's labor" things like clean clothes folded neatly in drawers, a tidy, sanitary refrigerator, vacuumed rugs, washed floors, swept and organized closets, prepared meals, answered mail, full toilet roll holders and all the other myriad details that go into running a home seem to occur like magic. If you don't see or take part in the process, you just accept it and expect it all to be done for you. In fact, unless something is NOT done, you don't notice it at all! This revelation came to me when I hired a housekeeper. My sweet lady would come one day every week. I'd leave things for Janet to do. After awhile, dusting and ironing and clean floors just "happened". Recycling was done, mats were shaken and shelves were wiped clean...and if I wasn't there to have a coffee with her and see her work for myself - I took my clean house for granted! Being a "housewife" is a full time job. Add parenting to this and you have an all- encompassing career - for which many of us apologize! I was lucky enough to have a job that allowed me to work at home. I had two jobs! Strips like this one were done to support all the smart, productive and caring moms I knew who were struggling to stay sane. These comic strip complaints also made me less resentful of my own responsibilities. It felt amazingly good to confide my feelings to an unseen community of friends...millions of them!!!

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Back to hockey! These were busy times, but the early morning practices, the struggle with uniforms and the expense were all worth it. I am such a supporter of children's team sports. It's great exercise, wonderful experience and parents must participate. You can't take a very young hockey player and leave him or her to play without Mom and Dad in the stands! They have to see you cheering for them, encouraging them. I remember watching the kids whose parents would just drop them at the rink and come back later. Perhaps they really didn't have time to stay, but the look on their children's faces as they scanned the bleachers, looking for someone to work hard for - someone besides the coach - was sad. Perhaps they did well in the long run, but it's my guess that the kids who excelled at hockey (and everything else!), were the ones whose parents stayed to watch them play.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The parents who screamed at their kids (as if, by merely making noise, they could influence a shot or even the outcome of a game) made our lives miserable. Some of these folks we knew. They were shopkeepers, community leaders, patients and acquaintances in town - so it was impossible to say anything harsh to them for fear of starting an incident in front of everyone else. These people became entirely different when they watched a game. It was as if this was their own private event onto which they projected everything from personal prowess to family pride. They shouted insults at their children, at other people's' children, at the coaches and at each other. And, for what?! I could never figure it out. In the end, the result was a sad and demoralized child and many frustrated parents. Rules of good sportsmanship aren't just for the players. They're for the audience as well!

Friday, March 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: No matter how fast he was skating or how complex the play, Aaron knew where I was in the stands. He knew I'd be there watching everything he did - at least I tried to watch it all. I was one of a tight knit group of hockey moms who always sat in the same place. We always wore the same parkas; a huddled little throng, trying to keep warm with blankets, body heat and bad arena coffee. In Lynn Lake, your parka was a sort of signature. Like waddling mounds of fabric huffing wads of steam out the top, we were part of the northern landscape. My parka was blue with a wolf fur hood and a decorative band of green around the bottom. My friend Nancy had a green parka; June's was magenta. You could tell who was who by the way they walked and what they wore. Those parkas kept us from freezing to the bleachers as we dutifully watched our boys skate their hearts out - for the team and for us. I never looked forward to the 6 am practices, but I'll always be glad I was there.

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Nobody likes to lose. On the days when Aaron and his mates were smarting from a lost game, we'd commiserate with hot chocolate and a talk about "next time". There was always another game to look forward to and more reason to put your heart into practice. "After all," we'd say, "if you won every time, it wouldn't be fun anymore! The great thing about competition is the fact that only one team can win and the other must congratulate them honestly. Then, you work hard to see if you can outsmart and out skate them the next time. Losing is an opportunity! You get to learn about generosity, good sportsmanship and honor." The lecture about winning and losing is pretty much the same everywhere and it applies to every sport and if you're lucky, your child will listen, understand and be comforted. Then, once the hugs and the words of consolation are done... you'll tuck them into bed with a hug and tell them you're proud of them for doing their very best. As you kiss them good night, you know that you've said the right thing at the right time....even though they cry out miserably as you leave them: "But, Mom!!! IT'S NO FAIR!!!"

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Lynn's Comments: During the 80's there was a Canadian television "reality" type show called "Thrill of a Lifetime". A young woman from Montreal had written to the producers to say that her thrill of a lifetime would to be to appear as a character in For Better or For Worse. I thought it was a fun idea and agreed to participate. The TV crew contacted me and asked if it would be possible for her to visit me at home and to watch me draw the comic strip in which she appeared. This was OK, too! Monique was a librarian, and so a scenario involving the local community library was concocted. Travelling all the way to Lynn Lake Manitoba was quite a hike from Montreal and when she arrived with camera crew in tow, she was exhausted, nervous and wired. She was to come to the door, wait for me to open it and then the two of us had to be surprised and happy to see each other. This we did many times! Finally, they allowed us to hug and laugh and enjoy the fun of connecting for the first time. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting this sweet, enthusiastic young woman. With her ready smile, thick hair and glasses, she made a fine cartoon character! She stayed for the day, I drew the strip, we had dinner together and she left the following morning. We promised to keep in touch - which we did for awhile. I later met her for dinner in Montreal, but our time together was interrupted and I regret not being able to get to know her better. So, you have the real story behind this strip...and, Monique, if you're still in Montreal, I'd love to hear from you and find out what you've been doing after all these years!

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Katie wasn't the performer I made her (as Elizabeth) out to be. It was Aaron who could have earned an academy award for drama. It wasn't unusual for him to collapse onto the floor with gut-wrenching heartbreaking sobs as he faced the job of putting his Lego back in its box or picking up his shoes. From friends, I learned about an amazing secondary use for the egg timer. Rather than fight with my son, I'd show him the number of time-out minutes on the timer. The scene would go something like this: "NOOOO! I WON'T DO ITTTT!!! AAAAUGHHHHHHHH!!!!" and I'd say "You know what, Aaron, perhaps a little time out would be a good thing". I'd turn the timer to 5 minutes and show him the dial. "AAAAAAAAAAuuuuGGGHHHHH...NO FAIRRR!" Me: "OK, let's add another 5 minutes." Him: "WWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!YOURE MEAN! I WONT DOOOOIIIITTT!" Me: (calmly) "Let's make that 15 minutes". (This is so much easier than fighting!) And so it went. One day, he racked up a full half hour and went wailing off to do penance. I thought I could still hear him crying, but it was an odd sound and the door to his room was shut. Then, I saw a strange red blob of something at the bottom of the door. It was moving. He had wedged his lips under the door and was howling through his squashed lips which moved like two wet worms. He was determined I should hear him cry! Yes, Aaron got the prize for dramatics and extra points as well for making me laugh 'til I cried!

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Katie was not only adept at scaling cabinetry, she was able to conceal the collateral damage which ensued. After finding parts of a figurine, carefully hidden under the couch, I asked her why she hadn't told me she'd broken something; why hadn't she been honest? She looked at me as if I was crazy! I mean, why come out with a confession immediately when you could defer a tongue-lashing until, well...perhaps forever? I had to admit to myself that her reasoning did make sense, but I still wanted my kids to respect my property and ME! After a long heart to heart talk she agreed that she should really tell mom when she'd done something wrong...but until she went away to university, I found evidence here and there of small unreported infringements. I now look forward to the day she has kids of her own. I'm going to give her some china!

Thursday, March 31, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We had one of those large, overstuffed, comfy couches in our living room - the kind that's hard to get out of. It was second hand and nicely broken in - so it didn't matter if the kids took off the cushions to make a fort or rode the back like a pony. When Rod came home from work, that couch was waiting and he would flop down on it for a short rest before dinner. Naturally, the kids saw this as an invitation to flop down on Dad. The couch could nicely support all three and the coffee table was used for the overflow. It was always funny to see the kids so eager to tell Dad everything as soon as he came in the door, but after dinner when he'd recovered from his day...they'd be off on another mission.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Lynn's Comments: For me, making meals was one of the most challenging jobs on earth. A repast must be colourful and attractive enough to provoke interest, flavourful and aromatic enough to invite ingestion and healthy enough to support life. The local grocery stores (we had two) supplied fresh meat, but fresh veggies were another matter. I remember fighting over a wrinkled green pepper in Perepeluk's just so we could experience the taste! Aaron was not a fan of mushrooms, but if I could lay my hands on a fresh pack of mushies, by jove we were gonna eat them - and I wasn't making a fungus-free meal for HIM! He had, however, a tongue that could locate and isolate a mushroom in any mix and he'd ring his plate with rejects faster than a dog spits out pills! Today, of course, his palate has matured. He is an omnivore who, living in Vancouver, enjoys the best of vegetarian cuisine. I've watched him eat mushrooms many times... and it surprises me still that he does so - on purpose!

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I don't know how many times I sat alone after some frustrating bout with the kids, wishing I had "done it better". It's hard to do something better if you're doing it for the first time - and considering how many firsts there are in parenting, you're bound to make a few mistakes along the way. Books, professionals, friends and family can advise you, but in the end this is your responsibility, your environment, your rules - and everyone has to learn to get along. My philosophy is: no matter how much your child looks like you or Uncle Max or sounds like Dad or walks like great aunt Beulah...he or she is a stranger in your home. You have to accord the same respect and consideration to your children as you would to a stranger - and with this as a guide, they should (by the time they're 20)...do the same for you! Even so, I made some awful errors. I shouted, I cried, I fought and I did things that weren't fair. The thing is; kids are resilient and understanding and an apology goes a long way! I remember some tearful times when I had to admit I had not handled something well and I told my children I was truly sorry. Noisy and fanciful, naive and full of mischief, children are still people. They know what's fair and what's not. They can detect a lie; they can sniff out insincerity and they appreciate an apology as much as anyone else. I have apologized many times to my children and they have apologized to me. It's not an easy thing to do - but the hugs, the comfort and the love that comes afterwards, make this humble sign of respect well worthwhile.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

Lynn's Comments: With Aaron in school and Katie in daycare, we were exposed to whatever was going around. Having the whole family grounded with some barking, feverish, miserable illness was par for the course. At least I didn't have to work outside the home. This was when my mother's penchant for home remedies was re-inflicted on my own progeny. I didn't resort to mustard plasters, but I did the Vapo Rub and the vaporizer and I used thermometers in both ends. Fortunately, the hospital was walking distance away and at least once a week we saw the doctors socially. We managed to pull through whatever came down the pipe (as they say) which makes me realize how lucky we are to be living today and not in the middle ages. If you didn't die then from the illness, you were likely to croak from the cure!

Friday, April 8, 2011

Lynn's Comments: There's no such thing as the whole family "coming down with" something - because one of us is always "UP"! As chief bottle washer, I remember cooking and carrying, flushing, wiping and running up and down the stairs, even though I belonged in the sack too. Funny thing, though; even if I'd had the luxury of live-in help I'd still have wanted to take care of everyone. I'd still have made soup, taken temperatures, wiped foreheads and watched them 'til they slept. Perhaps this is why I like hospitals. I actually like the smell and the bustle and the constant state of "need". I enjoy being with nurses and doctors and learning as much as I can about what makes us "tick". I have never minded being a patient and, some day if I'm ever too feeble to live on my own I won't resent being "put away!!" Maybe I'm practical or perhaps I'm just looking forward to being taken care of - guilt free!

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Every woman I know has the ability to tough it out, even when they're sick. If someone needs you, the strength is there. You don't think twice, you just do what needs to be done. It's second nature. I had a dear friend whose husband was terribly ill. She looked after him night and day and when he was finally able to go back to work, she checked herself into the hospital and had surgery. She'd been suffering with a cyst on her ovary and hadn't let the pain register until her other fears were over. People will say they have never done anything outstanding, courageous or worthy of note, but examples of selflessness like this happen every day...and it makes the word "giving" really mean something.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My parents loved fantasy. When it came to things like tooth fairies and Santa and the Easter bunny, they went all out. At Easter, our tradition was the "bunny box". Dad would find a cardboard box at the store that was the right size and depth. He would cut it so that one long side was high, the other long side low and the two short ends were cut in an "S" shape to form a fancy display container. We would then decorate this with crepe paper, ribbons and anything else we thought would entice the "E.B." to leave us something special. It didn't matter if there was a dubious side to the story of a magic rabbit - the lure of chocolate and perhaps a small gift was enough to keep this tradition alive for years.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Colouring eggs was one of the best things about Easter. Mom would boil up eggs, soak them briefly in vinegar to erode the shells and then set out dishes of dye for us to dip them in. The dye kit came with a small metal wand, looped at one end to hold an egg. If you were careful, you could dip one end of the egg in dye, turn it over and dip the other end in a different colour. Not one to do things without a flourish, Mom helped us draw on the eggs with white wax crayon which resisted the dye and left our doodles and designs the colour of the shell. We applied stickers and feathers and plastic eyeballs to our coloured eggs and when we were done, they were put in the fridge until Easter night, when the Easter bunny would hide them, along with chocolate and candy eggs as well. In the morning, after the hunt, we'd put them in the "bunny box". Already in the bunny box was a chocolate bunny for each of us, which we'd eat before breakfast - ears first. Alan and I found out where the eggs had come from (as demonstrated by Tootie's chickens) but this was no longer an issue. The magic and the fantasy always returned with flying colours!

Monday, April 25, 2011

Lynn's Comments: In 1973, Alan moved into my small house in Dundas and settled into the garage, which I'd tried to make as habitable as possible. Aaron, sensing a kindred spirit, was immediately on Al's lap and I could see I was immediately outnumbered. Over the years Alan came to visit often but this was the one time, after a deadly sibling rivalry, we arranged to try cohabitation once more. He moved what little he had into the garage and, as they say, we lived for awhile in "interesting times". I had also sublet Aaron's room to a geologist friend who was working on her master's thesis and who had offered to help pay the rent. The dynamics of the three of us under the same roof with a baby made us all get to know each other perhaps a little too well!

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Jumping into the future, here, these strips come from our time in Lynn Lake when Alan came to visit. The stories in FBorFW were always a blurry mixture of then and now, of my own childhood then and the lives of my two young children now. In order to bring reality into the strip, I relied on every memory I had filed away. When I was writing about Michael, I would have to be the same age he was, thinking the way he did and behaving like a child. This is not to say that I ran about the house flailing my arms and refusing to eat cold peas. I would be in a trance, writing, talking to him, being him and talking back. Likewise, I would try and think the way my brother did: a bachelor, being crawled on by kids and expected to know something about family dynamics. Alan loved Aaron and Katie, but he was always keen to burrow into a book or fly the coop when the noise and the chaos got the best of him.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Our house in Lynn Lake was a large, three-bedroom split level home with a finished basement. This is the house the Pattersons lived in - but I had already established the outside of the house to look like the one I had in Dundas. The Dundas house was one level, so when the strip started to take shape and I wanted to keep some continuity I had to combine the two houses, which I did with difficulty. In the Dundas house, we'd have had to play musical beds. In the LL house, there was room to spare. Because it was more fun to have the kids vacate their space for Uncle Phil, I let the story go in this direction. Anyone really scrutinizing the floor plan of the Patterson house might have asked why - but there was still too little information to work with. And besides, once you start an idea, the deadlines force you to carry on no matter what! Having Uncle Phil take over Elizabeth's room would provide more opportunity for comedy, and I hoped the muse would bring me something funny to write about!

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My mother made Katie a white stuffed bunny, which became her favorite toy. It went everywhere with her. Because it was so important, "Bunny" became a target for her older brother who'd hide, throw or otherwise mistreat it just to get a rise out of Kate. Fortunately, Bunny was well made and survived everything from the bathtub to the sandbox to travelling all over the continent. Still, I worried that he'd somehow disappear and asked my mom to make a spare, just in case. Mom made two more bunnies - a boy and a girl. She made outfits for both and eventually all three bunnies were essential to Kate's day. We still have these. Tattered and worn from washing and play, they are family treasures. They were made from scraps and cost nothing, but they're worth far more than I can say!

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Lynn's Comments: During the mid 70's when Alan wound up living in my garage, the quest for a cheap, clean apartment was ongoing. Everything from distance to parking to price thwarted his efforts and then there was the noise. Where could one practice the trumpet at midnight or two a.m. without being thrown out by heavyweights in the local Tenants' Rights Association? Despite his dreary existence in my garage, it provided him with cheap digs, a place to practice and a clear shot at the fridge, which was just inside the door. I wondered how long it would be before he found a more desirable location, all too aware that for now, at least... he had a pretty good deal!

Sunday, May 15, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This is a scenario straight from my past. My dad used a blade razor for years, until electric shavers became efficient and more popular. In fact, he sold them at the store, which had become a sort of high end gift shop by the time I was in my teens. I think it was a "Ronco" shaver which came home first. We had one small, communal bathroom so nothing was secret, sacred or safe! When Dad left the new shaver on the sink, it was only a matter of hours before Alan and I were shaving ourselves, each other and the carpet in the hall. I remember taking it apart and tapping the debris into the sink. Dad was never as miffed as Mom was by the things we did. Stuff always got tided up (by Mom) and besides, there were other shavers at the store to bring home and try. Dad could fix anything and when the Ronco jammed, he'd find a way to get it humming again. Ladies' shavers were introduced soon after the men's became popular, but Mom refused to have one. She preferred a blade on her legs, she said and would never use an electric one. We put this down to her great practicality until, one day when she thought she was alone in the house... I saw her shaving her chin with Dad's!

Friday, May 27, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This one was a regular scenario. My studio was in the house and the kids knew when I was so into my work that I was "gone". They were pretty good about it, but now and then, they let me know - in a way kids do - that it was time to come out of the zone and be Mom again!

Sunday, May 29, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Like most dogs tall enough to reach the porcelain receptacle, Farley enjoyed a "fresh" cool swig from the commode. The sound of his lapping was intensified by the shape of the bowl, so the "slorping, galooping" effects were as entertaining as he was. What I did object to was the trail of water that poured from his hairy mug when he left the bathroom. I was more concerned about cleaning up after him than I was about his choice of water sources. I kept the biff pretty clean and besides - dogs chew on every disgusting thing they can find anyway. I tried to keep the toilet seat down, but living with men rather thwarts any success there. The trail of post-refreshment liquid really got me down, but I lived with it for the love of Farley. The head-bashing incident belongs to a friend who told me that her three year old son decided to take matters into his own hands after hearing his mom complain about this same problem. She was shocked to find him smacking the family pooch on the noggin as he drank from the toilet. She gave her son a lecture about abusing animals and sent him to his room for a time out. Later she confessed that despite her son's unkind behaviour...the dog had been cured of a bad habit. In other words, he had "put a lid on it"!

Saturday, June 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I so enjoyed my children's innocent years. The way they look at you - as if you ruled the world; as if everything you said was genius and true - makes you feel larger than life and I guess in a way, you are. Too bad it take so little time for them to discover the truth!

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Like most little girls, I was fascinated by make up and wanted to try it on. My mom didn't use much and what she had was out of bounds. Had I ever gone into her cosmetics without permission, I would have been in serious doo doo. One of my mothers' friends was a sales rep for Avon. She carried a stunning assortment of tiny "trial-sized" lipsticks which she gave away when the line changed and the colours were discontinued. Mom was often the recipient of her generosity and when the tiny tubes were empty, I would retrieve them from the garbage and use a toothpick to get the last smudge of colour from the bottom. Sometimes I'd find a big tube tossed away, which was great - except that the colour was always far too red. In order to get away with wearing the stuff, I would heat the tube and mix the lipstick with Vaseline. I managed to sneak the slightly rouged lips past my mom... until I left the tube in my pocket. This, of course went into the wash - leaving a load of laundry covered in red blobs. Too angry to speak, Mom took the ruined clothing upstairs and with a philosophical "what have I got to lose" attitude, she boiled the lot with soap powder in her big canning pot. All of the lipstick came out of the clothing! I was saved. Then it was time for the inevitable lecture about being too young and sneaking around. The next day, she came home from work with a tube of pale pink lip gloss. I had my lipstick and I could wear it openly. Nice touch! Having the "real thing" however, sort of dampened the spirit of adventure and I lost interest in make up until I was in my early teens!

Monday, June 6, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This was a "game" my brother Alan and I invented. It was a subtle kind of teasing which involved eye contact - or the lack thereof. We'd stare at each other - glaring, menacing, then calmly look away when a parent came by. We would enrage each other - and it's awfully hard to plead your case when there's no evidence of wrongdoing. I'm glad my kids didn't read my stuff, because I would have had to explain what this was about and they would have done it, too!

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Again, this is all from memory. This is my brother and me doing nasty, irritating things to each other, just to cause a rift. Perhaps it's because we were easily bored. Perhaps it's because it rained a lot and we always seemed to be indoors. For some reason, we couldn't pass up an opportunity to upset one another and this lasted until we were in our teens. No wonder our folks were so pleased when we moved out!