doll: Browse The Strips

Sunday, December 5, 2010

Lynn's Comments: My dad, reading the paper while relaxing on the couch, is a classic image. Mom always read at the table where she could spread the sheets out evenly; Dad preferred to hold them up to the light. The snap and crackle of him flipping to the next page is a sound I can still hear clearly, recorded in some archive buried deep within my private mental files. It was nice to sit, warm against his side, and read the news with him. My knees on the cushions, my shoulder against his, we'd read together in silence. I learned to read at his fast pace and when it came to the "funny pages" we studied together the panels, the pranks, the precision that made us smile. Mom on the other hand did not like us to read over her shoulder. It bothered her to share what must have been a rare private time and, this, of course, offered me the opportunity to ruffle her feathers. I would climb the rung on her chair and read, with my chin on her arm until I could sense a sort of vibration...an electric exchange that happens between mom and kid that says "that's all I can take!" I knew I was pushing her buttons - the trick was to escape before she blew. Funny isn't it how little things drive folks crazy. My dad loved the company, my mom wanted to be left alone. Both of them loved to read, however - which impressed me greatly. I love to read now, because it meant so much to them.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Shopping with my kids at Christmas always reminded me of Christmases at home with my parents. Dad made $47.00 a week and if we had something left over by the end of the month, we could go into Vancouver from the north shore for dinner and a movie. For the four of us, this was a $12.00 expense and difficult to afford. Christmas therefore was sparse, and yet my parents made it as festive as any, with homemade gifts, hand sewn clothing and a turkey dinner to rival any feast in a grand hotel. It's good to have lived in a home where every dollar was hard earned and accounted for. As I walked about the shops with Aaron and Katie, I was as overwhelmed by the toys and the abundance as they were. It was hard to believe that I could afford these luxuries and difficult to keep from buying more than was necessary. Santa was indeed generous to my children...but the gifts I was given when I was their age probably meant more. They came from the heart more often than they came from the store!

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I confess. My kids had far too many toys. I wouldn't have called them spoiled, although I know they were...it's just that I love toys so much myself! The year that Rod and I were married, he moved into my house in Dundas. The garage was small and in order to make more room, we had to get rid of a few things - one of which was an original dime-operated Coke machine; a thing of beauty that my first husband had fought for, won and abandoned. Reluctant to let it go, we decided it would not be sold at a bargain price. Whoever wanted our Coke machine would have to make it worth our while. In those days nobody had much money, so when word of mouth brought us our only candidate, he was unable to give us more than 50 bucks. He was, however, an employee of Mattel - the big toy manufacturer and he threw into the pot an invitation to the annual Mattel staff Christmas sale! SOLD! The day we went to the big Mattel warehouse will forever live in memory. It was enormous. Barbie was still a big item as were all her pals. There were stuffed toys and baby toys and toys you could ride on, slide on and build. There were dolls and doll houses and tea sets and miniature kitchens and musical toys and child-sized furniture and you could have any of them in bulk and at prices we couldn't resist. Rod and I went crazy. We bought so many toys we could hardly stuff them into our small yellow Datsun. As we drove home, we regained our composure. The toy-fiend gratification gradually wore off and we wondered what we had done. We had one small boy to provide for, so what were we going to do with Barbie stuff? What were we going to do with everything we bought? We'd spent far more than the 50 bucks we got for the Coke machine! Without letting Aaron know that his parents had gone berserk, we hid our load in the attic. We gave away Mattel gifts at every opportunity. Everyone we knew who had a child received something from our stash. We were still giving stuff away as we moved to Lynn Lake and Katie received Barbies as soon as she knew the word "doll". I'm still a toy enthusiast. I love toy stores and an invitation once to the big toy fair in New York was toy heaven! I try not to buy anything. I don't need anything and in my house, I don't have space. Someday, however, should I ever become a "granny" I'll be shopping again for toys...but I won't be buying them for my grandchildren...I'll be buying them for ME!

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Lynn's Comments: My mother used to nag me constantly! Seems there was always something better to do than play or draw or watch television. The way I saw it, my room was my room and if I had to climb over a Vesuvius of moldering junk to find the bed I slept in, then that was my problem. Clean and ironed clothing was not a priority, nor was washing behind bodily protuberances. I longed for the day when I could do what I wanted to do, eat what and when I wanted to, have my own space, my own money and my own rules. That didn't happen until I was 20 and married for the first time. Then, I amazed even myself. I became a stickler for cleanliness. My apartment was spotless. Clothes were immaculate, ironed and sorted into their exact compartments. The bed was made, the carpets lint free and the kitchen was a neat, organized workspace. It wasn't until I had children that I realized what a degenerate slob I had once been. Hovering over my son as he miserably shoveled the crud out of his bedroom, I could hear myself nagging...with the same tone of voice, using the same language my mother used. Time and time again I promised myself I would not turn into my mother and here I was saying the same darned things - with the same predictable response. Years have flown by. Both of my children have homes of their own and it amazes me to see that they live in clean and tidy environments. I guess, in the end, nagging pays off. My mother, had she lived to see this day, would have been both proud and vindicated!

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Katie wasn't the performer I made her (as Elizabeth) out to be. It was Aaron who could have earned an academy award for drama. It wasn't unusual for him to collapse onto the floor with gut-wrenching heartbreaking sobs as he faced the job of putting his Lego back in its box or picking up his shoes. From friends, I learned about an amazing secondary use for the egg timer. Rather than fight with my son, I'd show him the number of time-out minutes on the timer. The scene would go something like this: "NOOOO! I WON'T DO ITTTT!!! AAAAUGHHHHHHHH!!!!" and I'd say "You know what, Aaron, perhaps a little time out would be a good thing". I'd turn the timer to 5 minutes and show him the dial. "AAAAAAAAAAuuuuGGGHHHHH...NO FAIRRR!" Me: "OK, let's add another 5 minutes." Him: "WWWWAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!YOURE MEAN! I WONT DOOOOIIIITTT!" Me: (calmly) "Let's make that 15 minutes". (This is so much easier than fighting!) And so it went. One day, he racked up a full half hour and went wailing off to do penance. I thought I could still hear him crying, but it was an odd sound and the door to his room was shut. Then, I saw a strange red blob of something at the bottom of the door. It was moving. He had wedged his lips under the door and was howling through his squashed lips which moved like two wet worms. He was determined I should hear him cry! Yes, Aaron got the prize for dramatics and extra points as well for making me laugh 'til I cried!

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!

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.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Kate and Aaron both slept with one stuffed toy. It was me who filled my bed with stuffed animals and slept around them when I was a kid. My favourite was a koala bear that my grandmother brought back from Tasmania for me. It was real kangaroo hide and I loved him until his fur was almost gone. My brother stole him away from me once, insisted on sleeping with him, and then wet his bed. Mom couldn't wash my koala because he was leather, so her advice was to let him sit on the windowsill and air out: "In time he will be less 'whiffy'" she said. But he stank for years, so "Whiffy" was what I called him. I still have old "Whiff" in my china cabinet. He's sweeter smelling, now, and still well loved.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Lynn's Comments: The gift from the airport gift shop was a subject that brought a number of responses. Some letters came from travellers who bemoaned the fact that a small gift was expected. Others enjoyed shopping for treasure and the surprise it would bring. It was a really divisive subject and I learned that when it comes to gifts and the business traveller, it's much better to receive. Personally, I love to shop for "gifties" and sometimes the airport has the best shops!

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Lynn's Comments: To end a dispute between Kate and Aaron, I did divide the kitchen table so that each child had their own side. I then divided the couch and Aaron himself divided the living room. This bit of biblical rectitude resulted in a deep interest in equality. Both kids then wanted to divide the house, the hallways, and the stairwell into "what's yours" and "what's mine".

The task was not a small one, but they were determined. It gave them something to do together and the price of a roll of masking tape was a small price to pay for silence. I decided to use this in a Sunday strip. The thought that they might even have tried to divide the dog had me smiling for days!

Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Like many little girls, Katie had a pile of Barbie dolls, clothes, and paraphernalia. Her tantrums (which were rare) weren't about wearing pretty things, however, she just wanted to be comfortable. It was I who wanted her to look pretty!

Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Wherever Aaron was playing, Katie wanted to be, too. With their big difference in ages, she was considered a pest. The boys would holler for assistance and I'd rescue them from the fumbling hands of a little kid. I would then have to find something special for Katie to do so she wouldn't feel left out. I often wondered if her gravitation to the boys' bombs and light sabres wasn't a neat ploy to get 100% of Mom's attention!

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Lynn's Comments: The kids were never far away--I used to listen to their banter as they made up games, created forts in the living room, and played house. I was impressed by their ability to fantasize. I remembered my own childhood, when a mud pie tasted like the real thing, and if you rolled up in a blanket, you could fly. Even though we seemed to be "in a world of our own," we were still aware of our immediate environment.

Aaron, Katie and Aaron's friend, Roy, were playing one day, and some of their dialogue disturbed me--they were talking about bombs, murder, divorce, and other things they had heard about on television. This had to be absorbed, of course, and dealt with as much as any other experience outside of Sesame Street and Saturday morning cartoons. I worried that I was not talking to my kids enough. Later, when Roy had gone home, I asked them about their conversations, their ideas, and their perceptions. I felt good about being there to answer questions and explain some facts. In return, Aaron asked me if life was the same for me when I was a kid and I had to say that it was--we just didn't hear or see as much as they do now. We were far more protected from negative realities. When I think about it, we were really naive, and for that, I'm somewhat grateful!

I now have a grandchild. I see kids as young as two, happily using computers, eBooks, and iPads and I wonder how much more the babies of today are learning...too soon, too fast.

Friday, May 17, 2013

Lynn's Comments: The big treasure trove was in my mother-in-law's attic. She had meticulously saved everything. There were ancient skis and snowshoes, lampshades and blinds. There were picture frames, bottles, quilt frames, and toys. There was a trunk filled with clothing--some of it her mother's. We found corsets, dresses, feathered hats, and knee-length knickers--some was moth-eaten, but most was like new.

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, May 29, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Until I became a teenager and could work at the store, do chores at home, and generally understand adult conversation, my mother and I were like oil and water. My best memories of her when I was very small seem to be when I was sick! She spent hours sitting next to me in my room, reading, taking my temperature, and trying to make me more comfortable. Measles, mumps and chicken pox went the rounds of every neighbourhood, and there was little to do but stay in bed and sweat it out. Mom should have been a doctor. She was smart, unfazed by barf, blood and trauma, and eager to try every home remedy known to man. Her poultices, enemas and steam tents were worse than the plague itself, but they worked. Thanks to Mom, we were up and feeling better before anyone else on the block!

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Lynn's Comments: As a kid, I had a talent for making insults. This "gift" could be quite a threat. Woe to the child who had a name that rhymed with something funny or initials that spelled a word. If I was suffering at the hands of a bully, I'd go into my repertoire of insults and "win." When I began to change from kid to teenager, however, I became a butterball, and if somebody called me "fatso," I'd crumble. What goes 'round, comes 'round!

Sunday, October 13, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Again, a Sunday strip that didn't have to be invented. Word for word, this was real dialogue, and I wrote it down on a paper towel in the kitchen. I never seemed to have a notebook available. There was one in my bedside table for ideas that came in the night, but during the day, I had to grab whatever scrap of paper I could find. I learned quickly to capture an idea as soon as I could. My chequebook, which was always in my purse (before credit cards), was filled with punch lines, fast sketches, and ideas for future strips. Trying to remember these things later was impossible, and if I let a good one get away, I'd be miserable! This exchange made for a cathartic cartoon and saved my son, once again, from the wrath of Mom.

Sunday, April 27, 2014

Lynn's Comments: I got my first real burn from my curling iron. I was in a hurry; it flew out of my hand, and stupidly, I tried to catch it. I had to wear a bandage on my hand for two weeks. The pain and the inconvenience made me aware of how dangerous these things can be, so when my kids were around, I was extra careful with it. I made sure they knew it could be dangerous, that it was not a toy and should never be played with. I was certain that my lecture was well heeded until the day I noticed my curling iron had been put away "differently." When I examined it, I saw nylon and some other substance melted to the barrel. I never found out what my kids had been doing with it or what they had destroyed, which reminds me: Now that they are adults, they tell me stories of "what really happened" when I wasn't looking--I'll have to ask about the curling iron!!

Sunday, August 31, 2014

Lynn's Comments: Listening to Katie talking to her dollies, I realized I was hearing myself. Her choice of words, her phrases, inflections, and body language, had all been learned from me. I'm sure I was parroting my mother when I directed my children, and now that I'm a grandmother, I'm waiting to hear if my granddaughter will talk the way HER mother does!

Monday, September 8, 2014

Lynn's Comments: The Enjos provided both Elizabeth and Michael with friends to play with--I wanted the whole family to integrate with the Pattersons. This is always the hope when new folks move into the neighbourhood, and I could make it happen in the strip!

Monday, December 22, 2014

Lynn's Comments: One of our traditions at Christmas was to clean out the fireplace. This was a good thing. We'd have forgotten otherwise. This is a pretty accurate illustration of our living room in Lynn Lake--complete with the crud on the rug.