
clock: Browse The Strips
Tuesday, February 22, 1983

Saturday, May 19, 1984

Wednesday, December 17, 1986

Sunday, September 13, 1987

Sunday, December 6, 1987

Thursday, October 18, 1990

Sunday, January 8, 1995

Sunday, April 3, 2005

Sunday, November 4, 2007

Sunday, January 6, 2008

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Saturday, May 18, 2013

Lynn's Comments: It took days to sort through everything. Behind every stack of familiar flotsam was stuff we never knew she had. Parting with some of it was going to be hard. We had several family meetings to determine the fate of Ruth and Tom's collection.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015

Sunday, September 11, 2016

Lynn's Comments: This is another true situation. There were times when I was so engrossed in writing or drawing the strip that I was oblivious to everything else around me. My kids could talk to me, ask for things, say stuff that didn't make sense, and I'd simply nod and smile. An entire day could go by and I'd forget to eat or even get up and walk around. It was like being in a sound sleep. There were times when people would have to distract me from my work, look me in the eye, make sure I was absolutely focused on them, and then say what they wanted me to hear!
Sunday December 4, 2016

Lynn's Comments: My mom always had the sheers drawn. Heaven forbid that anyone should see into the front window of our little house on 5th Street. If we wanted to look out the window, my brother and I would kneel on the couch, press our faces to the glass, and see what we could through the sheers: the white, almost transparent drapery, which smelled of dust and cigarettes. I hated them. As a kid, I thought the curtains should always be open. Surprisingly, when I had a house of my own, I too was determined to have the curtains closed for privacy. This Sunday strip was, again, a true story!
Thursday October 17, 2019

Lynn's Comments: From my bed, behind a closed door, I could hear the car arrive and the door open. I could hear a key in the lock, footsteps in the hall, and bedroom lights click on. I knew exactly who was home, what time they came in, and how long it took them to settle down. They always thought I was sleeping.
Sunday January 7, 2024
