Lynn's Comments: A good tree, harvested by hand, was something to celebrate. In this strip, Farley is giving the yuletide conifer a canine style christening - another event which never happened, but should have!
Lynn's Comments: My brother and I were allowed to open one gift and our stocking if we got up before our parents did. Naturally, we were up before 6am, whispering in the dark as we sniffed out the right gift to open. Our dad, not wanting to miss any of the fun, was soon sitting under the tree next to us, waiting for Mom to make the coffee. Nothing could be opened until she had a coffee in her hand. Even now, the smell of fresh brewed coffee on Christmas morning signals that it's time for the greed-fest to begin.
Lynn's Comments: When our kids were little, I wished that my parents didn't live so far away. Christmas time, especially, would have been better if the other set of "grands" had been there to share it with. The telephone was the next best thing and the bill became our annual gifts to each other.
Lynn's Comments: After all of the preparations and expense; after the cards and the phone calls and the waiting for the clan to gather, the actual day of celebration seemed to be over in a flash. After getting the kids to sleep and the kitchen cleaned up I remember falling into bed dead tired, buzzing from too much food, company and excitement. Still, the sleep that came after everything was over was a deep and satisfying one- knowing I had a whole year to prepare for the next Christmas!
Lynn's Comments: I enjoy company, but I always seem to make too much food. I make hors d'oeuvres, salads, mixed drinks and have munchies on hand, so when it comes time for dinner, everyone is too full to eat anything. I always have a ton of perishable leftovers, which then go into the fridge to die. Party food is only good when there's a party!
Lynn's Comments: The day after the party, my husband was really under the weather. Surprised by how miserable he was, I asked him if he remembered the good ol' university days when drinking was a sport and the results taken for granted. His response was "I've never been drunk before! This is the first time!" I guess he was saving the worst for last.
Lynn's Comments: I knew the kids suffered any time we fought. We didn't disagree too often, but when we did, Kate and Aaron felt it was somehow their fault. We usually don't talk to them about the issues, we don't explain what's happening and why we're mad, so kids try and unravel the puzzle the best way they know how. To a child, the world revolves around them--and if this is the case, it must be their fault if the world leaves it's axis and gets wobbly sometimes! I tried to show that here.
Lynn's Comments: Settling disputes between the offspring usually fell to me and there were times when I had no patience left to work with. I was so tired of the constant, petty squabbles to care. If the kids could go outside, they'd be too occupied to start a row, but inside, the tug-of-war waged on and I would often be at the "end of my rope".
I would envy the guys who disappeared into their workshops to "get stuff done". It was hard to deny them the time they spent over an oily valve or a piece of lumber or a broken pipe. This was, after all, essential to the household maintenance. The cool, quiet ambience of the workshop was a perfect place to spend an afternoon. Guys dropping by to give advice or lend a hand were welcome. They'd lean comfortably against the doorframe, chewing the fat, and hoping for a beer to materialize. Sometimes they even got sandwiches and cake! It might take a day to fix a gadget or repair a hose--time well spent according to the men folk, but... an entire day?!!
Some of my friends had hunter/fishermen in the family and when the weekend came, their men folk would go off to the call of the wild. The women kept the home fires burning and the small fry in line. When we came into contact with each other, we'd compare notes about the absent spouses. What did the guys REALLY do while we held down the fort? Mystery loves company. So, while I went along with the social flow, I resented it as well. Situations like this found their way into For Better or For Worse and I was always comforted by the responses from other moms who said, "That happens at OUR house, too!" It was wonderful to know I wasn't alone.
Lynn's Comments: The worst thing about having a kid in hockey is the gear. The odd hours of practice, the driving and the butt-numbing seats in the stands were a pleasure compared to the fitting, loading, dressing and stench of the required gear. Hockey moms go unappreciated until a kid grows up and becomes a hockey parent themselves!
Lynn's Comments: After all the hockey I've watched, after all of the news clips and interviews and hockey related trivia I've had to endure ...I still don't really understand the rules. A pile up like this, to me, might just as well be part of the game. How un-Canadian!
Lynn's Comments: Being part of a team meant a lot to Aaron. He loved the camaraderie, the excitement and getting together with all the participants after a game. The kids felt a real kinship. Being in "uniform" gave them status and worth. It was important, therefore, to teach them that no matter how padded and colourful, the uniform does not make the man!
We had to make sure the kids maintained their good manners, even though they imagined themselves hitting the big leagues, then hitting the bars, and hitting each other! The contrast between the confident team player and the immature little boy was enormous--it was hard not to "parent" a youngster who was trying so hard to be a man.
Lynn's Comments: I don't remember having class outings at all when I was in elementary school, and the Lynn Lake environment didn't provide much in the way of field trips unless one toured the mine. I imagined, then, what it would be like to take a group of children to an average city gallery and see how they'd react to the experience.
Lynn's Comments: Since Michael had visited an art gallery and had been exposed to some sculptural "exposure"...I wanted to have some fun with his snowmen. This strip got me into some hot water, but not enough to melt the scene. Fortunately, my easy-going readers thought it was a funny idea and the editors agreed.
Lynn's Comments: Here is another word for word exchange between my husband and me. The punch line was exactly as written. I didn't toss a measuring cup--but I sure wanted to. This resulted in his taking over the pressing of his own shirts and clinic gowns--until we hired a housekeeper who came once a week and actually enjoyed ironing!
Lynn's Comments: These words came directly from my mother's mouth and later from mine. Seems to me that kids enjoy being in on the local gossip as much as we do! Trouble is they, too pass it on!
Lynn's Comments: Here's another example of how to bring readers up to date with a few underlying story arcs. In the first panel, you catch up with what's going on in two relationships and still get a kid-fuelled smart remark as a punch line. I loved this ploy!
Lynn's Comments: Some strips require no explanation; no example of how it came to be. "It's MINE" played out between my brother and then, naturally, between my kids. This is one of those timeless scenarios which parents are so used to, that the only intervention considered is on behalf of the TOYS!
Lynn's Comments: Looking out the front room window requires a face print. There's no way around it. Combine a check on the neighborhood with a greasy facial negative and you have accomplished two things at once. Forcing one's nose and lips onto a glass surface is a satisfying form of artistic expression which I'd continue to do today if I didn't personally have to clean it off.
Lynn's Comments: It was my brother who played Atari until his legs fell asleep. The TV was on a stand, too far from the couch to allow for serious and intense interaction, so players sat on the floor in reverent communion with the screen. After a marathon of gaming, Alan couldn't walk and Aaron had forgotten to go to the bathroom. Both staggered up the stairs in search of relief and I took advantage. Another strip was in the bag!
Lynn's Comments: After looking for the bathtub plug for some time, I once settled on a spud that fit right into the hole. I'll do anything to have a nice, hot bath! Years later, I was visiting friends in Cuba. A neighbour kindly invited us to her house for dinner and when we went to do the dishes afterwards, there was no plug in the sink. She was about to use a soup pot to wash up in when I saw a basket of fresh potatoes under the counter. I selected one the right size and popped it into the hole.
Potato is "papa" in Spanish and the word for plug is "tapa". So, I said, "Look! You have a papa for a tapa!" She laughed and I promised her that I would bring her a plug the next day. My friends and I went to every hardware store in Havana and could not find a simple rubber stopper for a sink! There were a number of things we couldn't find: a large garbage pail with a lid, a good pair of scissors, and masking tape--these things are found everywhere back home. I couldn't believe that these small, useful items that we all take for granted were so hard to find.
The following year, I went back to Cuba. I took our friend a plug for her sink and a number of other things. She was more than pleased--she was grateful. Circumstances there are different now. Cuba has opened up and stores are able to carry more products. I still visit my friends and we always recall the time I used a papa for a tapa... a little trick I brought from home.
Lynn's Comments: Rod was away often, as he worked in the isolated villages in Northern Manitoba one week out of every month, so it was a treat to be able to go to a convention once in awhile and stay in a nice hotel. On one occasion, Aaron was told that his dad's absence made him the MAN of the household which was a serious position with a lot of responsibility. As Rod left, he asked Aaron if he had any questions. Aaron thought it over and said, seriously; "What will you bring me?" I used this punchline instead!
Lynn's Comments: When I'm working, I will make the same faces as the characters I'm drawing. It was funny for the kids to watch me--especially if the face I was drawing was screaming or just plain mad!
Lynn's Comments: This is me. These are my words. This is also my mother and her logic. I could waste an entire day lying on the couch, wishing I was someone else, somewhere else, wondering why I had to wait so long to be out of the house and on my own. I wasn't even a teenager at the time--I was in elementary school. As a teen, I was involved in too many projects and clubs and activities to be bored.
As a child, I was either off in a world of fantasy or trying to figure out why life was the way it was. I wanted to know why I was there, what I was going to do when I grew up, and I wanted to get started NOW! A day was so long and a week was forever. I figured I was wasting time. It wasn't until I was sent to the Vancouver School of Art for Saturday morning classes that I felt secure. For some kids, it's sports that get them out and energized. For me and for many of my friends, it was art that filled us with a sense of purpose.
Lynn's Comments: As a young artist trying to get freelance work anywhere I could, I often found myself doing things for clients who offered to pay me, but when it came time to do so, had no money. It was hard to defend myself against such people, so I just kept producing and taking my lumps. I did a lot of illustration for a small local publisher when I was young. When I pleaded with him to pay me the money he owed me, he said I should be happy just to see my work in print!