Lynn's Comments: Every first snowfall, I used to hit the ditch. Maybe it’s because I was used to driving fast on rough, flat surfaces and didn't have my winter reflexes. Whatever the reason, I would call our friend Gerry Voyer and ask him to pull me out. A couple of times, this happened on our country road and I'd walk to Gerry’s garage where he’d get out his truck and take me to the scene of the "accident." One winter’s day, I was taking a long stroll down MacPherson Drive when Gerry passed me in his truck. He stopped, rolled down his window and sighed. "OK," he said. "Where is it?" He thought I had hit the ditch again and was coming for help. It was then that I realized just how often I had run off the road!
Lynn's Comments: Yes, this is another actual conversation; an actual situation. Really, the strip saved each one of us from time to time. Having an outlet for our normal confrontations was absolutely wonderful!
Lynn's Comments: My friend Deborah and I walked past a bunch of construction workers who were sitting on a sidewalk having their lunch. We were in New York—it was a narrow space and they had to move their legs to let us by. As we passed, they continued their conversation and politely ignored us. When we reached the next block, Deb turned to me, smiled and said, "Remember when?"
Lynn's Comments: Bulging the thought balloons out of the margins made the "memory" strips work somehow. It’s funny how the comic art shorthand works; how lines, balloons, and the size of the lettering can convey so much information.
Lynn's Comments: We once bought a house that had been lived in by lady who had cats. After a year of cleaning and painting, we had to remove the drywall to get the smell out of the bathroom.
Lynn's Comments: This really happened. It was a coat, actually, and I wrecked it. Being a cartoonist was a good thing. When something like this happened, I got a daily strip out of it …which really offset the misery!
Lynn's Comments: My mother would drive my friends and me to school dances. We'd cringe in the back seat, hoping we wouldn't be seen. With great understanding, my mom would drop us off a block away from the school so we could walk, unaccompanied, by a "rent." Whatever rifts came between us, she could also be totally cool.