Elly: Browse The Strips

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!

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My brothers' smoking was always a bone of contention. He was still puffing when I did this strip and I was still trying to get him to stop. I don't think he ever blew up the kiddie pool, but he did play the trumpet professionally and I wondered how his lungs held out!

Sunday, June 12, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I remember being so distraught that I could break stuff. At the end of my rope, I'd scream and cry and flop down on the floor exhausted and empty and defeated. This was last week! Seriously, when you're too young to understand and too inexperienced to deal with life's situations, collapsing in tears is the only way to respond. We've all been there and despite the fact that you look like someone to avoid...this is usually the time when you need love and understanding more than anything else in the world!

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We didn't have lockers until grade six, but the comic value of the leftover sandwiches, fetid gym clothes and unidentifiable crud couldn't be denied. Our lockers were both a repository for school supplies and a place to stash everything else. It was a tiny, private storage unit; our first "home away from home".

Friday, June 17, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Our childhood home on Fifth and Lonsdale in North Vancouver was where all the neighborhood kids seemed to congregate. When our sprinkler was on, it meant food, fun and a bathroom if you remembered to use it! My folks were tolerant and welcoming and everyone took their generosity for granted. They rarely complained, however - they wanted to be able to look out the window and know where we were!

Sunday, June 19, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Father's Day has always been one of the more challenging Sunday comics to produce. We never really made too much of it when I was a kid and later, when my two were small, it was a day when the best "present" was to let Dad spend the day in his workshop! Still, it's a day that puts the spotlight on dads and children, no matter what the marital dynamics are - which is a good thing. We need more Father's Days and Mother's Days, if you ask me. Heaven knows- there's nothing more rewarding than being recognized and appreciated for doing a difficult job well!

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Lynn's Comments: The real Farley rarely left the property, but if he did decide to go AWOL, he'd be gone for the day. It was hard to find him in our housing complex and there was a ravine to get into as well. It was the highway close by that really worried me. He was big and cuddly, but a pretty dim bulb; as canines go, he was no "Lassie"!

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Whenever someone or something goes missing, we are programmed to think the worst. Maybe it's the news or the stuff we see on television that makes us panic, but we find ourselves preparing for the most awful of outcomes - just in case! When Farley disappeared I wondered if he had been stolen - but someone loading his dirty, hairy, odiferous butt into their vehicle was pretty hard to imagine!

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This was based on a scenario which once kept my neighbours, Marg and Kenny, up all night. Their small dog "Pixie" took off for parts unknown and Marg was so upset, she had to be sedated. Meanwhile, police, firemen, neighbors and family combed the area without success. Pixie later appeared on her own. She had been under the porch, too afraid to come out with all the crying and commotion going on.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My brother was not living with me at the same time Farley did. This was all part of the creative process. Having the dog, the brother, two kids and a husband all under one roof appealed to me as a cartoonist. Had I really shared my space with this lot, I think I would have been the one to run away from home!

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This is a situation where a really bad and insensitive "joke" can be nicely covered up by putting it within the strip, not completing the sentence and using a friendlier punch line!

Monday, June 27, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Farley the dog was a lot of work. Not only did he bring every manner of grime into the house, he was a constant source of hair. There was hair everywhere; soft, fine, fly-away hair. Even though I vacuumed the house several times a week, balls of grey tangled fluff would blow across the room if you opened a window or a door. He was lovely to look at, but owning him was a full time job!

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Here it is; the truth about Farley and the family car. When I did travel with canine, I put a metal barrier between the hatch back compartment and the rest of the vehicle. This meant that baby and I could inhabit the space safely and without dander. The one time I left Farley in the car sans restrictions, he not only covered the windows with spittle, he jumped on the doorframe and locked himself inside.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Washing a large hairy animal is a challenge - even out of doors. I had tiled the bathroom floor, the bathtub was one of those old, deep ones and we had plenty of towels. I would wait until I had the time and the patience to tackle him and then the fun began. Farley tolerated bath time. He even seemed to enjoy it. The trouble was... what smelled clean to me smelled awful to him and as soon as he was dry, he couldn't wait to go outside so he could roll in disgusting, unmentionable things!

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.

Monday, July 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Alan was always trying to quit. This and a serious lack of funds kept him without a reliable supply of smokes. He might say I'm making this up...but I do remember him sifting through the household refuse looking for salvageable butts. This is clear in my memory because despite my objection to smoking, I truly felt sorry for him!

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Al and I tried smoking as kids. Our parents rolled their own, using a long rubber contraption that made five smokes at a time. I became pretty adept at the art. You had to pack just the right amount of tobacco into the trough, wet the paper slightly and roll the mix so that the long uncut cigarette was even and perfectly smooth. The cigs were then cut with a razor blade. It was easy to pinch an entire roll of five. All our chums were becoming smokers, but even though it was the ultimate in cool, I just didn't like the taste, the smell or the awful feeling afterwards.

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I think this was one of my favourite lines. We all "game-play". At least that's what we call the back and forth tug of war that eventually establishes who we are in a relationship and where each of us stands. Although I consider myself a straight shooter, I've indulged in these wars of wit and worry, too. At 64, I'm happy now to be at an age where I can smell the manure and decide whether it's worth digging into or should be left to mellow in the grass!!

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!

Monday, July 11, 2011

Lynn's Comments: This was my dad, trying to assemble one of those wicked mind traps we used to buy from Woolworths - with the hope it would turn into a tent. The metal poles bent, the fabric wouldn't stretch and when you finally did get a shelter to come out of it, you were too mad to enjoy it!

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We didn't have a bonfire in the backyard, but we did have deck chairs, flashlights and food. Dad played the guitar. He knew every camp and military ditty by heart and at this tender age, my brother and I thought he was absolutely wonderful. He was!

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??!!

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Ahh...the angst and the misery of romance. Most songs are inspired by either the discovery or the painful loss of amour. What else but a song can allow you to holler with sorrow or delight? We've all been in a triangle of some sort - jealous, helpless, confused...and this story allowed me to wallow in it all!

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Having Uncle Phil stay in the house while the Pattersons left for Vancouver meant that I didn't have to find a kennel for Farley (even cartoon dogs have to be taken care of) and I could place Phil and Connie in a much more compromising space. My readers smelled a rat. They were onto me; there was methane in the madness.

Friday, July 22, 2011

Lynn's Comments: In reality, we left our house in the care of neighbours and family and took off for what we hoped would be an easy and enjoyable two weeks away from home. Planning and packing should have been the most difficult part of the exodus; add the excitement of children and you've got a busy day ahead of you. Like a canoe in the rapids with nowhere to go but the flow, our trip had begun .

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I never did leave my brother alone in the house with Farley, but if I had, he would likely have talked to him like this. As kids, we'd never had a dog. We had budgie birds, turtles and a chameleon, but nothing big and fun and responsive. It took us awhile before either of us was comfortable with a dog. Where do they like to be scratched? How do you handle one? We tended to talk to them as if they were other adults - and come to think of it, other dog owners talk to their dogs like this, too!

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!

Monday, July 25, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Twenty minutes is forever when you're a kid. We sat in the train station trying to keep Aaron occupied until we could board and get settled in our rooms. Katie was an easy traveller. If she was restless, you could settle her down with a book or a puzzle and she'd often fall asleep. Aaron on the other hand was a ball of pent up energy and required all of our attention, patience and creativity.

Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I thought I had booked two bedrooms, but in error I'd booked "roomettes". These tiny spaces had a bench seat, which converted to a single bed for sleeping, under which - inconveniently stored - was...the loo. I had planned for the "boys" to share one compartment; Katie and I would share the other. The roomettes were so confining, however, that in order for us all to fit, the kids were exchanged. Kate stayed with her dad and Aaron stayed with me.