
Michael: Browse The Strips
Thursday, April 2, 2015

Lynn's Comments: The other day, I discovered a tiny dress in the back of my closet. My daughter, Katie, had worn it in the Lynn Lake United Church Easter parade, and I still had it! There was a matching bag and hat. I showed them to Kate and said, "Can you remember being this small?" Having a three year old now herself, made the dress and accessories even more interesting. I'm hoping she keeps some of her children's favourite clothes because photographs can't show the actual size the child was. Holding the small dress was like touching my little Katie again! Sorry, I won't apologize for being sentimental. That's what moms do!
Friday, April 3, 2015

Saturday, April 4, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I wanted my son, who really had a good ear for music, to take piano lessons. In an effort to encourage him (and to learn myself) I arranged to take lessons with him. We went to a particularly strict and humourless lady who treated us exactly the same way. Admonishments like, "Keep those wrists up! Do you want to play "McDonald's Farm" for another week?!" were doled out to us both. I earnestly wanted to learn how to play the piano, but I fully understood my son's reluctance to practice because I hated to practice, too! Neither of us looked forward to the lessons, so neither of us worked hard to learn. This is a sad admission. I wish we had focused on our talent and not on our teacher!
Monday, April 6, 2015

Lynn's Comments: As a professional trumpet player, my brother, Alan, introduced me to some wonderful music, and to artists I might never have learned to appreciate--like Wynton Marsalis. A dear friend of mine wound up in the hospital one time and was in so much pain, there was little we could do to comfort him. I took him a cassette player, headphones, and some tapes--one of which was Wynton Marsalis. This music, he later told me, made his illness bearable and aided in his recovery. I wanted to say the name Wynton Marsalis out loud in the newspaper to thank him for helping my friend. I wonder if he knows how much his gift means to the people he shares it with.
Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Thursday, April 9, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I remember telling my mother I was not a servant! As a mother and grandmother, I now know what a "servant" really is!
Friday, April 10, 2015

Saturday, April 11, 2015

Sunday, April 12, 2015

Lynn's Comments: About three months ago, I took a few days to clean out all my kitchen and studio drawers. I discovered pens, pencils, erasers, tape, scissors, glue, push pins--enough to open a small shop. I put everything away where it should be and made sure to place supplies close to the phones. Yesterday, I called a friend to ask for an address--and I couldn't find a pen!!
Saturday, April 18, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Sadly, we never did celebrate success with the real Farley. In the comic strip, however, the outcome to every scenario was up to me, so cartoon Farley was an obedient, and even rather smart, companion.
Friday, April 24, 2015

Lynn's Comments: One thing that was not abundantly clear to my audience was that when Elly was working, Michael was in the care of Annie, who lived next door. This was the way it was with us. Aaron, at the age of ten, was under the watchful eye of wonderful Marian, who lived across the street. She cared for my daughter (five years younger than Aaron) as well. Aaron had a key to our house, and was trusted to be there with Marian's supervision, so it didn't seem out of line for me to show Michael at home, into the cookies, and on his own. People complained--and rightly so. This was not a good idea. I would have said so, too, but I was living in a community where everything was within walking distance, and I was looking at things from a different point of view.
What's interesting about living in a very small, closely knit community is that everyone looks after everyone else--perhaps too closely, and that scenarios like this are common. Aaron was safe in Lynn Lake, Manitoba, but might not have been in another, larger community like the one in which the "Pattersons" lived. I was constantly mixing the reality of our personal lives with the imaginary lives of the people in For Better or For Worse. Sometimes, I just didn't consider the different living conditions of the two families and think things through!
What's interesting about living in a very small, closely knit community is that everyone looks after everyone else--perhaps too closely, and that scenarios like this are common. Aaron was safe in Lynn Lake, Manitoba, but might not have been in another, larger community like the one in which the "Pattersons" lived. I was constantly mixing the reality of our personal lives with the imaginary lives of the people in For Better or For Worse. Sometimes, I just didn't consider the different living conditions of the two families and think things through!
Monday, April 27, 2015

Lynn's Comments: The day I received a call from my first publisher to say he was interested in publishing my book, I was in shock. It was something I desperately wanted to hear but couldn't believe I was actually hearing it!
Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I was equally pleased to have my single panel cartoons accepted by our small local newspaper, "The Dundas Valley Journal." I was in my late 20s, a single mom, and at the time, working at a job I didn't enjoy. Seeing my cartoons published in a real paper with a real audience validated what I was doing and told me there was hope. I could see the possibility of making a living doing what I did best! In the FBorFW comic strips you see here, I substituted writing for drawing, but Elly is me--overwhelmed to see an open door in front of her--just waiting for her to go through.
Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I think what I was trying to say here is that a lot of published poetry is without rhyme. The poetry I like best is that which incorporates rhythm and rhyme--much like the lyrics of a song. I was also trying to say that when you do see your work in print, out there for an audience to read and remark on, it looks entirely different. It has significance, it means more than it did when you first read it to yourself and decided it was good enough to share. The combination of fear, pride and exhilaration compels you to do more, and to do it better. That's how success begins.
Friday, May 1, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Looking back I wonder how I managed to concentrate on such a solo job with life going on all around me. I had to divide my time carefully. I kept to a routine--depending on my daycare provider across the street and the time Aaron would be in school. My most productive hours were between 9:00 am and noon. I wouldn't be able to go back to the studio until both kids were fed and ready for bed. I often worked until midnight, then I was up by 6:00 am the next day to get breakfast prepared, lunches ready, and set out the kids' clothes for the day. It's no wonder that the drawings done in my early years were so simple!
Sunday, May 3, 2015

Lynn's Comments: After this strip ran, I received dozens of letters from readers who wanted to know what the heck was Michael doing with a bag of milk! Everyone knows that milk comes in waxed paper cartons or in plastic jugs, so what was this all about anyway?!
All an artist has to draw from is what she sees around her, and in my place of residence, milk comes in cartons, but also in strong plastic bags with a set of three bags of milk inside. Each smaller bag contains a litre of milk and we use special plastic or pottery jugs to keep them upright in the fridge. This way of packaging milk is as familiar in Canada as Coke in a can, so I assumed my readers everywhere would get the gag! Not so. The thing that struck me about the questioning letters was that some of them were as cruel and derisive as the trolls on the internet are today. They spoke with indignant authority, demanding to know what the **** I was talking about! Didn't I KNOW that milk doesn't come in bags?
Fortunately, this was when mean messages came with return addresses and we had a lot of fun sending photos and copies of milk advertisements to those who needed to see it for themselves. The impression I got from this was that not enough people travel, and they should!--Especially to Canada.
All an artist has to draw from is what she sees around her, and in my place of residence, milk comes in cartons, but also in strong plastic bags with a set of three bags of milk inside. Each smaller bag contains a litre of milk and we use special plastic or pottery jugs to keep them upright in the fridge. This way of packaging milk is as familiar in Canada as Coke in a can, so I assumed my readers everywhere would get the gag! Not so. The thing that struck me about the questioning letters was that some of them were as cruel and derisive as the trolls on the internet are today. They spoke with indignant authority, demanding to know what the **** I was talking about! Didn't I KNOW that milk doesn't come in bags?
Fortunately, this was when mean messages came with return addresses and we had a lot of fun sending photos and copies of milk advertisements to those who needed to see it for themselves. The impression I got from this was that not enough people travel, and they should!--Especially to Canada.
Sunday, May 10, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I toyed with the idea of making the punch line something like: "But, Mom, you don't PAY me!" But then, I thought back to the times in my own childhood when I hated doing menial tasks at home but would help a neighbour just for the fun of it. I didn't actually enjoy doing things for my parents until I was well into my teens! When it comes to understanding kids, it's a good thing we have our memories to rely on. We just have to admit that we did the exact same things.
Monday, May 11, 2015

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Living in North Vancouver meant putting up with wet and cloudy weather. As soon as a sunny day arrived, Mom would shove us outside and leave us there. Sometimes we found amazing things to do and didn't want to go back inside until the sun went down. And, sometimes we felt as though we had been banished forever. If I send myself back in time and imagine that I'm six years old sitting on our front porch waiting to be allowed back in, I feel--hungry. In order to keep us out of her hair, maybe Mom should have fed us first.
Friday, May 15, 2015

Saturday, May 16, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I will soon be going to my high school reunion. We were a close-knit bunch, and several dedicated organizers make it possible for us to have a reunion every five years. It's great to see everyone once more. We all talk openly about how we teased each other, and how mean we sometimes were.
As kids growing up in "wartime housing" during the 50s, we all thought other families were better off than we were. Last reunion, in a moment of wine-fuelled honesty, I told my friend Ruby that I had been especially nice to her when I discovered she had a television set. At the time, few families could afford to buy a television and I told her how jealous I was. I said, "You were the envy of every kid from Fifth Street to Eighth!" Ruby smiled and said, "Lynn, my dad worked in a furniture store and the owner allowed him to borrow a television from time to time because he was such a good employee. We didn't own a television either!"
As kids growing up in "wartime housing" during the 50s, we all thought other families were better off than we were. Last reunion, in a moment of wine-fuelled honesty, I told my friend Ruby that I had been especially nice to her when I discovered she had a television set. At the time, few families could afford to buy a television and I told her how jealous I was. I said, "You were the envy of every kid from Fifth Street to Eighth!" Ruby smiled and said, "Lynn, my dad worked in a furniture store and the owner allowed him to borrow a television from time to time because he was such a good employee. We didn't own a television either!"
Sunday, May 17, 2015

Lynn's Comments: During the 50s, bubble gum cost two cents a piece. Two pieces would fill your mouth with a perfect wad--the best for blowing bubbles. We kids would go to the corner store, pool our money, and buy the two pieces. Then, we would share the gum! The wad had to go from mouth to mouth in good time so that the flavour was enjoyed by all. Sometimes, as many as four kids would share. We'd all see who could blow the biggest bubble. It got in our hair, on our clothes, and our mouths would sport a dirty, sticky circle of gunge as we blew and popped and blew again.
AAAAUGH! I can't believe I told you that!
AAAAUGH! I can't believe I told you that!
Monday, May 18, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I once asked a friend to stay for dinner without asking my mother first. I didn't know that we only had enough food for the four in our family. Not wanting to be rude to my friend, Mom agreed to set another place at the table, but she had to fry bread with the potatoes, then cut the meat up into small pieces and mix it with the gravy in order to accommodate an extra person. Later, she explained to me that we weren't always able to feed others, and I was never to ask if I could stay at someone else's house for dinner. Even if I was invited, she cautioned me to be aware that the other family might have not have as much as we had.
Tuesday, May 19, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I had fun showing a family of Japanese descent serving Tacos for dinner. This is part of the fun of living in a country where culture and cuisine are shared easily and often.
Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Lynn's Comments: This was based on our neighbours in Lynn Lake, who had an elaborate train set in their basement. When I saw it, I thought it belonged to their eldest son, but was surprised to discover that it was the dad who had set it up. This was long before my husband built a model train you could actually ride on! What is it with trains, anyway?
Thursday, May 21, 2015

Friday, May 22, 2015

Saturday, May 23, 2015

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Counting to three is a joke. Really. When kids hear you count to three, they, naturally, watch to see what comes afterwards. DUHHHH--We bozo adults are then left to find some nebulous consequence. This is such a dumb thing to instigate. So, why is it that we all do it? --All of us! All the time!!!