Michael: Browse The Strips

Monday, April 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We didn't get a television until was twelve. Once the tube was in the house, I became hooked on classic movies and even soap operas. When it came to cartoons, I couldn't get enough, so with both parents working it was tempting to feign an illness and stay home. I was good at looking sick, but it didn't take Mom long to catch on. Every time I wheezed, coughed and begged to stay home, she did a thorough check up to make sure I wasn't pulling a fast one. If she caught me, the punishment might be no TV for a week - or worse! Still, the thrill of the game was there and I played it until boys became more interesting than television.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My kids always cried for MOM when they were sick. I tried not to call for mine! My mom had always wanted a career in medicine, so heaven help you if you felt under the weather. She had a remedy for everything. We went to bed wearing diapers pinned to our chests, spread with hot mustard. With towels over our heads, we breathed fumes from a bowl full of boiling water and camphor. We drank hot milk and rum, gagged on malt extract and cod liver oil, and when she was really stumped, there was always the dreaded enema! The good part, however, was that she really cared.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Mom worked full time at the jewelry shop on Lonsdale, but if either Alan or I was seriously down for the count, she'd drop everything and stay home. I was never closer to my mother than when I had a bad illness and she was there to take care of me. During the 50's we didn't get vaccines for the flu - we got the flu! The polio vaccine was newly available, diphtheria and whooping cough were also in decline, but mumps, measles, chicken pox and all kinds of other nasty bugs kept us in bed all too often. At these times, nothing was as soothing as having someone read to me. My mother read us wonderful stories from The Brothers Grimm to Rupert Bear, the Golden Books and Dickens. She read well, putting life and drama into everything. Sad to say that when my kids needed me at their bedsides, they preferred to watch television!

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.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Aaron was too young to know what was happening and I had already given away poor Farley the dog (Farley was jealous of the baby and was beginning to get rough with him). My brother was coming to stay and I had to find space. My house was a tiny two bedroom bungalow with no basement, so the plan was for Alan to live in the garage. It wasn't a great space, but it was winterized and the doors could be boarded over. I moved my car outside, cleaned and organized and made the garage as habitable as possible. It was going to be an experiment and we both hoped it would work out well.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Back to live theatre. Both my son and I have "standup" in our genes. When it comes to storytelling, wild explanations, excuses and jokes, you can count on both of us to give it our improvised all. I recall sending Aaron to school when he was on death's doorstep. As he grudgingly dressed for school, I could tell he was wondering how I had uncovered his scam. He had hidden the hot water bottle well enough that it couldn't be connected to the high temperature he had, but I still sent him packing. How did I know? First of all, he played it too well. I detected a rehearsal. Second? The tap in the bathroom was still hot to the touch. The "heat the thermometer" trick was an old one...and had also been one of mine!

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My kids negotiated their bedtime, as did my brother and I. With the passion and forethought of seasoned debaters, we plied our folks with every possible reason, suggestion and excuse for why we should stay up longer, always to no avail. Now it was my turn to set the rules. Aaron was especially keen to see us give in. It was the challenge that made his entreaties a ritual. By the time dinner ended, he was devising yet another way to add a few more seconds to the deadline of eight o'clock and the ruses began with disappearance. Not one to be unnoticed, he would slip unto the basement to do "stuff" or head outside and down the lane where he'd melt into the network of sheds, fences and open back doors. This was particularly frustrating in summer when the sun went down around midnight and there seemed to be no reason to hit the sack in broad daylight. Bringing him home hollering "no fair" when neighbors were outside washing their cars and chatting over coffee seemed, well,... no fair! Still, a tired kid is not something you want to mess with in the morning, so we placed quilts on the windows, begged the older kids to play elsewhere and hoped the dogs would quit barking long enough for blessed somnolence to kick in. Aaron is almost 40 now. He's still a night owl and often hits the sack well after two a.m. He's convinced me that this is his natural rhythm, that he was never meant to go to bed at eight. Even as a kid, he tells me, he was awake until late into the night and that I should have let him stay up until he was tired. Perhaps he's right. But he was a kid then, and parents have their rules - some of which are meant to save their own sanity!!

Monday, April 18, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I used to look forward to getting my report cards. I always knew what my marks would be: A in art and reading, and B in everything else but math and sports. In those I was lucky to get a pass. In the teacher's comment column, I could expect "Excellent work in the subjects she enjoys, does not apply herself in math and sports. Does not concentrate. Likes to be the class clown." I could predict the outcome of my efforts every time and was content with status quo. As long as I could count and make change, as long as I could skip and run and ride my bike well enough to keep in line with my chums, I was content with my educational prowess - much to the chagrin of my parents and teachers who tried to persuade me to do better. After all, if I was good at nothing else, I could always draw for a living!

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Even though I drove them crazy, my teachers did like me. After I had pushed them to the breaking point, after I had been sent to the office, sentenced to detentions and made to take angry notes home, I always came around. I guess I had to test them as thoroughly as they tested us. My report cards, though not outstanding, were always pretty good and in amongst the admonishments re: math and sports there was always something nice. The best comment I can remember came from my grade four teacher George Stibbs, who said that I "made the class fun and interesting." This might have made me even more likely to clown around, but I grew to admire him too much to make him angry.

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.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My folks were ingenious at keeping the fantasy going. Both could concoct stories that kept us wide-eyed and gullible. Dad reasoned that rabbits were everywhere, but never seen - which was true. They certainly did a number on our garden. My mother, though eager to teach us everything about science and nature, went far beyond the old "as long as you believe, he exists" thing and asked us to prove the Easter Bunny did NOT exist...which, until we were at the skeptical age of eight, was pretty hard to do. The fact was that it was fun to believe and it was fun to prepare and there was always the fear that if the spell were broken, we'd have no chocolate at all!

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!

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Lynn's Comments: These are the thoughts I had as I sat in church with my mother, listening to the Easter morning service. Our Anglican minister put a heavy focus on the death of Jesus and we were all made to feel responsible! "It's because of YOU that he died! You are all SINNERS!!! You nailed Him to the cross!" I was eight years old and I thought..."But, I wasn't there! I wasn't responsible! I wasn't even BORN yet!" Years later, when my children asked to know more about the Easter story, I tried to tell it in a way that they could understand - putting the blame on a time when people were unjustly condemned all the time. I think this helped to separate them from a tragedy that occurred two thousand years ago and allowed them to focus on the message, the meaning and what was achieved. This cartoon was done after Aaron and I had watched a movie together - I think it was "Ben Hur". He was so moved by the crucifixion that he wished he had been there to prevent it. It was an exceptional moment that we shared together and we talked about it for some time. This is one instance when I had an opportunity to talk about some really serious concepts with my son, and I hope used it well.

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!

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I think it's safe to say that a mother's morning starts around the crack of dawn. Aaron was always up and ready for breakfast around five a.m. My job in the graphics dept. at Standard Engravers began at eight, so I had time to get clothing organized, get lunches made and make sure the car would run before I dropped him at the daycare at 7:30. My kitchen door led into the garage where my brother lived and I tried to keep the noise down so I wouldn't disturb his sleep. There were times, though, when I thought about him blissfully slumbering, unencumbered by household chores, bosses and babies and it really ticked me off. I had never lived on my own. I never had the luxury of falling into an unmade bed at midnight after a night on the town, then spending the weekend doing whatever I darn well pleased. Like many girls in the 60s I got married at the tender age of twenty and moved from my parents' home to an apartment where I assumed the wifely role of "caring for my man". Now divorced with a child to care for, I imagined my brother's life to be ideal. It's funny now to talk to him about this time in his career and he remembers it differently. For him it was unsettling to be living in my garage without a steady job and something to show for his 26 years on the planet. He felt lost and lonely and wanted the stability I seemed to have. We thought we were communicating at the time, but we never said what we were really thinking.

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!

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Word for word this is a true exchange. Aaron and his friend Roy were allowed to go down to "Fergy's", the local corner store, pool hall and hang-out - and Fergy's motto "buy or bye-bye" meant that they wouldn't be there long. Fergy made his money on pop and penny candy and despite the difficulty in getting fresh produce into the north, the licorice was always fresh. Licorice, ginger and chocolate are my favorite diet-breakers and the kids knew I'd shell out a few bucks if I they'd be sure to return with "the goods". It's funny, this thing about licorice. It was my grandfather's favorite, my mother's favorite and Charles Schulz liked it too. I took him a bag of licorice allsorts when he was in the hospital and he lit up with a smile. This is what we munched on as we spoke for the last time. He died not long afterwards and every time I see licorice allsorts, I think of him.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My brother Alan has been playing the trumpet since he was about nine years old. He'd sit on the old blue couch in our folks' living room and, with unyielding dedication, practice until he was exhausted. We all admired his tenacity. Dad was a musician and taught me the guitar - so music was a way of life in our family. Eventually, Al's musical friends entered the picture. Our basement became a rehearsal hall, the kitchen a roost and the refrigerator emptied faster than a gut full of goose grease (a quote from Dad). Beer was never a staple in our family but it soon became the weekend libation of choice. Though drinking was never a problem, Mom's philosophy was; "If you can't stay sober, stay home!"

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Here was an opportunity to put myself in someone else's shoes. Never having been dealt the hand that Lawrence was playing, I tried to be a small boy, watching his mother becoming something unfamiliar. Mothers aren't supposed to date or worry about their appearance or have a social life beyond women friends, the kitchen and "ME!" It was challenging to be Connie - a single mom, hoping for another chance at love, not wanting to risk being hurt again, wondering if her child would be treated well by someone who was not his father. It was challenging as well to be her young son. When I wrote the dialogue for these people, I was in a different world. It was a surprisingly exhausting and emotional experience!

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!

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Aaron was just a baby when Alan became a roommate. Aaron was thrilled to have a man around; one with a sense of humor and the time to play rough and tumble with him. It was surprising to see how well they got along together and today, my son and my brother are still the best of friends.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When we accept the role of mom, we become a nurse, a psychologist, a short order cook, a laundress and an alarm clock. Our day seems to belong to everyone else. Everything has its schedule and coordinating lunches, school activities and the general business of living leaves little time in the morning for extras. There's no time to spend on make up and hair spray - we are our basic selves. I was miffed one time to be told that I used to look GOOD in the morning! This is another strip that says out loud what I was thinking.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Here is a scenario that would play out many times in my housewifely career: you make easy meals which cover all the food groups, you leave them in the fridge to be accessed by the troops and without a second thought, they bypass your well organized and clearly labeled containers...and eat junk. On your return from wherever it is you went, you then find your freshly prepared grub reduced to dried, moldering leftovers - having never seen plate nor palate. So, you say the next time you fly the coop, there will be no meal preparation in advance and the troops can fend for themselves. I tried this once and the response was "What? You didn't MAKE us anything?" You can't win - which is why the freezer is such a good invention.

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Lynn's Comments: In Lynn Lake, there were only a few meters before you hit pay dirt on the road in front of the house. Aaron carried a constant dusting of grime wherever he went and this was a good line. I wish it had been his - but it was mine!

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!

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!