home: Browse The Strips

Monday, November 29, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Across the lane from us lived the Klotz family. Liz was one of the neighbors I often had coffee with. She and her husband Tony had 3 adopted kids and fostered others, so their house was a busy, welcome retreat from the studio. When I put their name on Mike's hockey jersey, I waited for them to see it in the paper - but others saw it first and called to tell Liz. She was delighted, but wondered if this meant that her husband's small auto repair shop now had to sponsor a local team! From Liz I leaned how to let the small stuff go, to let kids enjoy the freedom to play without noticing the mess of toys and clutter. When it was -40 degrees outside, our homes became playgrounds and trying to keep up with the chaos was nearly impossible. Every mom became a block parent as we took turns being hostess to visiting kids and a support system for each other.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Because we lived in such a bitter climate, warm clothing was a necessity. Gloves in particular had to be worn and accounted for. It didn't take long for hands and faces to freeze as kids forgot the temperature when they played outside. My mom-in-law, Ruth, kept a supply of extra gloves and I did too. Kids who were not wearing gloves, for some reason, would go home with a warm pair from our house. We lived halfway between the school and the end of town, so ours was the bathroom and the warming post for kids who needed to stop on the way home. I well remember trying to stuff rubbery, limp little fingers into tight gloves and from this I think the mitten was invented!

Friday, December 3, 2010

Lynn's Comments: My parents-in-law lived an easy 10 minute walk away and were the reason I was willing to move to a remote mining town in Northern Manitoba. We shared Christmas, Ruth and I, by dividing up the chores and helping each other clean up afterwards. (Christmas is always fun for the family - as long as "SOMEONE" does all the work!) This vignette was a "Patterson" situation. In the strip, the two sets of grandparents lived far from the family so their visits meant juggling bed space and were a welcome adjustment. Having them come to stay meant I could focus on them and show the readers who they were and what their personalities were like. I was lucky. I dearly loved my in-laws and I miss them both very much.

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 8, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Aaron's remark that his teacher had "no sense of human" became the punch line for this strip. In reality, his teachers were the best, but like his mother, I'm afraid, he managed to push them to their limit. The thing about Aaron was that he was funny. Even if he was completely in the wrong he retained a certain aura of acceptance, and tales of what he had done lately were part of the staff room chatter. He enjoyed school and did well in the things he was interested in, but otherwise he daydreamed, fooled around and got into trouble. I could understand. This was the way I drifted through elementary school, too. The class clown who was constantly told how well I could do if I could only settle down and learn!

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Knowing the teachers personally made parent-teacher interviews less stressful. Still, I always prepared myself for the same admonishments: Aaron was too easily distracted, he was too much of an entertainer, and in order to learn he had to be part of the audience. Math was never his favorite subject and I could sympathize there. His grandfather tried to give him remedial lessons, as did his grandma, who had been an elementary school teacher. Still, he found it hard to concentrate and would rebel. This had been my problem, too. At parent-teacher interviews, I knew that every time his teachers explained their concerns, it could easily have been my own teachers talking to my parents about me!

Friday, December 10, 2010

Lynn's Comments: I had some wonderful, insightful and compassionate teachers. The dialogue you see here is almost word for word from a conversation I had with Mr. Stibbs in grade four. He told me that yes, he did pick on me and yes, he did single me out in the class - and that he did so because he knew I could do better. He explained that it took a lot of his time and energy to put me in my place and he did so because I was worth it. I think he was the first to put a harness on the unruly kid that I was and he did so by letting me know - in a strict but very fair way, that he had respect for my intelligence and therefore so should I.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Lynn's Comments: It was a long time before I realized I could actually enjoy learning, if only I could just let my teachers do their job. First I had to test them and see what their limits were. I had to make them angry and see how they handled their anger before I let them in. If they were fair and honest and strong, I learned. If they fell into the trap; if they screamed or threw stuff, or had favorites or didn't come through with a promise, I became their worst nightmare and twice I was removed to other classes. Teachers see more of their charges than the parents do and I think I was looking for as much discipline as they could give me. Looking back, I have some apologies to make... and so very much to thank them for.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Driving to a destination which requires a map means that yours truly is more than likely to miss an important turn off or happily follow the wrong signs. To avoid this misery, I have always given myself time to "get lost". This allows frustration to melt into a sort of \"adventurous" state of mind, wherein I explore my surroundings, take note of where I went wrong and promise myself I'll remember the next time. With two small kids in the back seat, wondering if we're "there yet" and teasing each other to make time go faster, I could hardly afford to get angry. I think now about all the technical devices available to keep one on track and I marvel. What would I have accomplished if I'd had a GPS? What would life on the road have been like if an ingeniously mounted, vehicle-friendly television screen had quietly entertained my offspring with programs of their choice? One thing I do know is that I would never have enjoyed the thrill of the chase and the excitement of seeing the correct corridor disappear beneath an overpass, taking me in the opposite direction! I would never have figured out for myself how to get from A to B - and isn't this all part of success? Why take the easy way when the wrong way can lead to something new? I ask myself. And I'm still waiting for the answer!

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Lynn's Comments: In this scenario it’s Elly’s father-in-law who unplugs the toilet, but this story really belongs to my dad. My grandparents lived in West Vancouver. Before we had a car, the trip was made by bus and it took the better part of a morning to get there. My grandfather (Mom’s dad) was a severe man, used to giving orders and making demands. Because my dad’s family was not as high in the British caste system as he was, Gramps treated my father with disdain, often calling him by his last name. “Ridgway! Do this! Ridgway! Do that!”

My dad was hurt and offended. He was gentle soul, however and always tried to avoid conflict. He kept his feelings to himself until the day we arrived to a distraught Gramps and an impossibly plugged privy. Dad was pretty good at fixing things and was soon pressed into finding out what had caused the system to back up. Dad stood before the offending bowl, scratching his head. Gramps, desperate to resolve the problem, offered to pay Dad to fix it. Dad looked at my grandfather and said “I will unplug your toilet if you will call me by my first name.” With some effort, Gramps agreed to do so and the waters flowed once more. Amazing, isn’t it, that the price gramps had to pay was simple courtesy.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Lynn's Comments: "Kafloompa- gush, kafloompa-gush" is my all time favorite sound effect. Coming up with words that suggest things like the screaming of brakes or the rumbling of thunder has been a sort of "art form" with cartoonists often claiming ownership. I was once accused of swiping Don Martin's (Mad Magazine) sound effects. I think the noises I came up with were "ka-thwanggg" or "ga-fwappp" or something like that. Perhaps these words were similar to Don's - but I hadn't stolen them! In the English language, there are only so many ways to spell the sound of a cream pie hitting the side of a head or a mouthful of cold peas being spat onto a plate. Years ago, I saw an article about Rice Crispies and how "snap, crackle and pop" was written in other languages. Some of the examples were: "knisper, knasper, knusper", "rix, rax, rox," and "piff, paff, poff" none of which I thought were as descriptive as the English. So, cartoonists will continue to come up with written sound effects as long as there are images that require them and if anyone should choose to incorporate "kafloompa-gush" into their art, I will consider it, with humility and gratitude, to be a genuine compliment.

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Katie, more than Aaron, was fascinated by the toilet. The fact that things simply disappeared was magic. After overcoming her need to keep everything that was HERS, and agreeing to let creations of a personal nature travel on to the pipes below, she wanted to flush anything that would fit into the porcelain receptacle. Socks, toys, and toothbrushes found themselves trapped in the bowels of our bathroom, awaiting a rescue and a wash. I was partly to blame. When a small boat couldn't be retrieved and tears ensued, I told her that it had gone out to sea and was happily floating off to explore the world beyond. With this in mind, it occurred to her that other things might want to escape the confines of home as well. The sound of flushing was suddenly a reason to drop whatever was at hand and run to the nearest bathroom. The day we bought our own "worm" was the day we gave up, braced ourselves for more flushings (despite warnings, admonishments and time outs) and looked forward to the day when other things would capture her interest. Unfortunately, neither of our kids was ever fascinated by laundry.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Lynn's Comments: My dad made up words to stories and songs all the time: "When shepherds washed their socks by night", "We three Kings of orient are trying to smoke a rubber cigar" and "round John virgin" were all part of our holiday hymns. Naturally, when I read to my brother, it behooved me (a good word at reindeer time) to change the words. Part of the game was in our having memorized the book or song sheet, so a funny alteration was a challenge and something of an expectation. Every so often I will see a youngster reading from memory, hardly looking at the words and these scenes come back to me. Thank goodness for memories.... and Christmas memories are some of the best!

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Kevin, who does my colouring (and other graphic necessities), asked me to put an extra strip into this week of dailies in order to make the dates coordinate with the 2010 calendar. This was fun to add, and brought back memories of cleaning out the fireplace for Santa's nocturnal arrival. We had a large fireplace in the Lynn Lake house and sweeping it out was as much of a ritual as cutting the tree. First the charred wood was disposed of, then the grate was cleaned and the alcove swept and vacuumed out so Santa wouldn't get any soot on the rug. In front of the fireplace we would then set out Katie's little blue table and chairs on which was ceremoniously placed a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. The stockings were hung from nails under the mantelpiece and were always big, woolly ones made for northern winters. Aaron, being older, already knew about Santa but it was a long time before the mystery was explained to Katie. I think the best Christmases are the ones we share near a fireplace with people who believe in magic!

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Lynn's Comments: In Lynn Lake, we had Christmas morning to ourselves and after lunch we'd walk over to Ruth and Tom's house for more openings and Christmas dinner. My in-laws always gave us practical gifts, so this strip was just for fun. Nobody gave the kids horns and drums - they were noisy enough as it was. Sitting in their living room surrounded by family and food, paper and presents is an image I'll keep with me forever. What you see in this strip is all of us the way we were at a time when life was perhaps more complicated, but far less stressful. Memories and magic is what Christmas is all about.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Lynn's Comments: The Lynn Lake theatre was an easy walk from the house. If one of us took the kids to a movie, the other could have a few hours to catch up. One of my favorite things to do is to "organize"! I love to throw things out and often regret having done so. The alternative, though, is to have too much stuff! What a luxurious problem to have. One day while the kids were out, I did go through their things. I gave much of what I thought was forgotten and ready to recycle to the church for the annual bake and rummage sale. This event was always well attended. I took Katie and Aaron with me to enjoy the tea and the treasure hunt, forgetting there would be a number of their things in the sale. They immediately identified their own toys and I dutifully bought back the things they weren't ready to part with! I learned to ask first, and to let them choose what to give away and what to save!

Monday, December 27, 2010

Lynn's Comments: The alcove in my mother-in-law's house was too small to allow for an organized dropping of outerwear. Likewise the closet in our front hall was a "bin" you dove into head first hoping to find something that, if not matching, at least fit! Along with the jumble of boots, mitts and whatnot came the sand, the pine needles and an omnipresent puddle of gritty, melted snow. If this cache of crud bothered you, it would be a thorn in your side for 8 months! This is how long winter lasted in northern Manitoba. You just had to get used to it. Spring would warm the roof for a few days before summer came and this is when the hall heap of winter wear would be dissected, paired up and thrown into the laundry. More often than not, we discovered things left by friends and friends of friends, which lead to the neighborly tradition of returning stuff and picking stuff up that you had left behind. Last week, I noticed that my daughter Katie, (now 33) had on a pair of mittens she's had since she was little. I wondered how they had lasted for so long - still in a pair, still wearable. Somehow, they'd survived the family "filing system". It goes to show you that favorite things find their way to the surface, no matter how deep the pile!

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Lynn's Comments: Telling Aaron we were going on a trip without him wasn't easy. He wanted to go everywhere, see everything - he didn't want to be left out. Staying at home with strict but fair grandparents didn't sound like a swell time and objections wouldn't get him anywhere. We wanted take him, but we needed time out, time off- we needed to be kid free! When the temperature slipped below -30, I had gone down to the local travel agent and had asked him to recommend a warm refuge. We checked out the brochures on Barbados. I chose a hotel because the name sounded nice and on the spot I had booked everything. Before we went anywhere, however, I had to work ahead so that the strip would run smoothly and I'd have enough lead time to get back into it again when I got home. To do this, I'd check out the return date then work weekends and evenings until I had 6 extra weeks of FBorFW done past that date. Travelling, therefore, meant long hours of writing and drawing beforehand, and barking at kids in an airport wasn't going to be part of the scene. We looked forward to the adventure and to the reward of sitting on a warm beach with a cold drink and nothing to do but enjoy. We looked forward to it, we deserved it, but we felt guilty all the same. Aaron made us feel guilty for going... which meant, of course, that things were normal.

Friday, December 31, 2010

Lynn's Comments: When they were young like this, the kids never really got into the swing of New Year's Eve. Other than being able to dig into the dregs and leftovers from the night before, it was just another day. They would look about, wondering what was new? What was different about the first of January? For the adults, on the other hand - in a town where ANY reason to party meant a full house on a moment's notice - New Year's Eve was the night of nights. You needed no preparation, really. If you had heat, a working loo and some furniture you were golden. Food happened and beer was just a short walk away from the pharmacy. We raided each other's fridges and cooked on each other's stoves. We borrowed each other's music and made our own. We all knew each other so well, there wasn't the slow process of "getting things under way". We simply carried on from one get together to the next, bringing the gossip, gaffes and groceries with us. In the small mining town of Lynn Lake, New Year's Eve meant a great time would be had by all, and the change in the date meant we had all made it through another year - together. In a small town, family means "everyone".

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Once both kids adjusted to the idea that mom and dad were really going to leave them, they settled in to Grandma's house without much fuss. Two weeks would go by fast, and maybe we'd bring a few presents when we came home! Aaron took his teddy and Katie took her bunny. Both had been lovingly made by my mom and were washed so often, they had that floppy, misshapen look of a toy well loved. Being the eldest child gave Aaron some confidence and I knew he'd accomplish something new while we were away. Ruth prided herself in setting goals for the children. "By this time, you'll be reading at this level"- or, "by this date, you'll be out of diapers". Her years as an elementary school teacher had given her endless patience - at least where the grandkids were concerned. (Her own kids told a different story!) So, while we chose the things we'd take on our holiday, Ruth found things for Katie and Aaron to do while we were away. We were so lucky. We were so privileged - and we knew it, too!

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Aaron and Katie were getting used to Grandma and Grandpa's parenting style. Neither Ruth nor Tom would take any "guff" from the offspring. It was clear from the get-go that they had to toe the line, or else! As long as they kept the rules of the house, observed their manners and went to bed on time, life would be good. At least, that was the plan. Both Ruth and Tom were strict disciplinarians. Having been brought up with "spare the rod and spoil the child", they had raised their children with strong rules and regulations. They planned to do the same with the grandkids, but times were different. Things had changed. They were more mellow now and the need for austerity... was perhaps not so strong. It didn't take long for Aaron and Kate to find their weak spots; the proverbial "chinks in the armour"...and thus, their guardians soon found this arrangement to be more than they'd bargained for!

Friday, January 7, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We arrived in Barbados at the same time as several other aircraft. The customs and immigration area was at a standstill. Long lines of visitors stood patiently waiting, but there seemed to be no movement at all. The heat was unbearable. Some of the older people felt faint. Others fanned themselves furiously with their passports and a few were ready to mutiny on the spot. Nothing had gone wrong until now and we wondered how such a busy airport could be in such an impossible mess! When we came home I did this comic strip. A few days after it was published, I got a letter from the department of tourism in Barbados! They had seen the strip in the local paper and were embarrassed to see their airport problem broadcast to papers all over North America and beyond! I was assured that tourist entry control was being quickly reorganized and that I would never encounter this problem again! I don't know if FBorFW can take credit for the modern, efficient and air conditioned space they have now - but I'll say that it did and have fun with it!!

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Katie was an attractive little kid and I fell into the "momtrap" of wanting her to look as cute as possible at all times. I had the adorable outfits, the velvet dresses, hats, scarves and mittens that matched her "girlie" snowsuits. I combed her hair just so and awaited the gooey compliments that come while showing off a preened and perfect princess. Kate, however wanted nothing to do with looking cute. Being comfortable was far more important. So was wearing what she darned well wanted to wear! She was determined and stubborn and it was abundantly clear by the time she was three, that what she wore would be a compromise. The red hat was actually a patterned toque and I would have drawn it that way, except that the pattern was too hard to draw and too hard to colour!

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Lynn's Comments: Our family home in North Vancouver was designed so that a kid could run from the kitchen to the hall, around to the living room and back into the kitchen again. This made for an excellent track and field event, should it be raining, and it usually was. Mom was long suffering, stoic and understanding. She let my brother and me blow off steam while she stewed silently, knowing that kids need the exercise. She drew the line at our jumping on the furniture though and her admonishments were almost always the same: "This is a house, not a playground!", "I am sick, sore, fed up and tired!" and of course, Dad's fave: "Are you cruising for a bruising?" Alan and I could almost mouth the words as they were spoken - but heaven help you if you were caught! When my own kids took to racing around the house, I heard myself saying the same things my mom said to us - and a new understanding between my mom and I erased some of the wall that had separated us for so long. I knew that my kids had memorized my litany of commands and I knew how she felt. At long last, my mom was vindicated! Some day... it will be MY turn!

Thursday, January 27, 2011

Lynn's Comments: No matter how open-minded you are, no matter how cooperative the relationship, there is always a sort of competition between mom and caregiver. Ruth's parenting style was something I admired and respected, but it was different! When I came home, I wanted to resume my role as the alpha female! After two weeks in her care, Aaron and Katie were now doing things Ruth's way and it took some time before they returned to the nest I had built. Ruth had given them a new routine and some new rules. I felt as though I could be replaced and I voiced this thought in FBorFW. Seeing this in pen and ink was like writing a letter to myself. It cleared my head. It made things better. Sometimes the strip provided an outlet that was healing and healthy for all of us!

Friday, January 28, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I did bring home a seashell from Barbados. It sits on my bathroom windowsill today as a reminder of the several trips we made to the same pretty hotel. I know it's a good shell because the edge is fine, transparent and slightly wavy. The man who sold it to me explained that conch shells are often too delicate to survive the recovery. They chip easily and the locals remove the roughness by filing away the edge of the shell, making it smooth and even. This one is perfect! I have several shells - and all of them have a story. Some are from Florida, some belonged to my grandmother and one of them I found when I was in my teens while walking along the beach at Deep Cove. Each one has a different sound when you listen and I've often thought it was a meaningful coincidence that shells are shaped like the human ear.

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Lynn's Comments: I think I told you that Ruth and Tom lived just a few blocks away from us. We were constantly going from house to house - but we were always aware of each other's need for privacy. We rarely entered without knocking. We respected each other's possessions, refrigerators and personal space. Because of this, we remained loving relatives and great friends until they passed away - long after we moved from northern Manitoba. I was very lucky to have had them in my life and for this I'll always be grateful.

Monday, January 31, 2011

Lynn's Comments: We moved to northern Manitoba shortly after Rod graduated from University. He had degrees in broadcast technology, science and dentistry and the folks there who had known him since he was a toddler called him "Roddy". His mom would put a scarf around his neck if he was going out without one, or would tell him to put on warmer socks. He wondered aloud when they were going to consider him an adult, even though "Dr. J. R. Johnston" was on the door of his clinic, and he was married and had two kids. I found the familiarity endearing, but I was many miles away from North Vancouver, where I was still "The Ridgway girl" and Merv and Ursie's daughter.

Friday, February 4, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When I was about 14, my father's mother came to stay with us. My grandfather had died. She was recovering slowly and Dad thought it would be good for her to come and live with us for a while, since he and Mom worked full time at the jewelry store on Upper Lonsdale. Alan and I would have been "latchkey" kids by today's standards, but we were fine on our own. We had our routines. I made dinner and he stayed out of my way. When Grandma came, she upset the applecart by assuming my kitchen duties and my mother's role as well. She became another authority figure, which my brother and I really resented. To add insult to injury, she took my bedroom and I was given a corner in the unfinished basement - a space as famous for its spooks as it was for its spiders. After six long months, Grandma finally returned to Ontario. Al and I rejoiced and I did something I rarely ever did: I completely mucked out my bedroom. Even though she had gone, the essence of Grandma remained in the scent of her soap, her clothing and her dark-gummed dentures which she'd kept in a glass cup on my dresser. For some time, the smell of Grandma lingered in the halls and the living room. She was still there, even though we had the house to ourselves again. That incident was the memory behind this comic strip!

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Lynn's Comments: They say that "normal" means different things to different people. For us, normal morphed from one reality into another as the kids grew and changed and became individuals. When they were little, reality was toys - everywhere. Later, it was friends - everywhere - and the sounds of sports, music and video games. Normal didn't become tidy and organized and quiet until they both moved out. Then, normal meant projects and travel and missing them. I went to visit friends of my daughter's recently. Brooke and Matthew have twin daughters, six months old. The girls are just starting to toddle and their small living room is strewn with blankets and toys. Brooke apologized for the mess. I said, "Don't worry, relax - I understand. You have two little kids! ...This is normal!!!"

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Lynn's Comments: When my dad went to the dump, we always wondered if he'd bring home more than he left there. The North Vancouver dump was about 6 miles from home, then a circuitous drive down a long dirt road. Going there was as exciting as anything we ever did on a weekend and my brother and I would fight for the front seat when we saw the folks pitching stuff into the back end of the car. A great chain link fence ran around the "nuisance grounds" and the "dump man" would meet us at the gate. He'd roll his cigarette into the side of his mouth and ask what we were bringing in. Then he'd direct us to the appropriate space in the compound and Dad would steer the old green Volvo into position for the drop. After we'd made our deposit, we were free to check out the scattered offerings hoping to find some treasure. The smell of wet paper, burning fabric and decay was not too bad - considering the fact that stuff here was FREE, so we happily climbed over the rubble on our quest for the perfect thing to rescue and take home. Our shoes took a beating, but all for a good cause. The dump man was cool. He didn't have a uniform, but he had a sort of military air. He enjoyed his place of authority and the fact that dad brought him a beer now and then improved our chances of getting out with something big! The score I remember most was the goose-neck lamp that dad found. It was a sort of greeny-grey....brass, I think, and not too badly scarred from the fire. The cord and plug looked good and Pop figured this was just the thing to go on his workbench downstairs. Mom, of course, was unimpressed and quietly told me later that she expected it would be gone in a fortnight - if she had anything to do with it. Advance to the year they sold their house and moved to Hope. The lamp went too. When our parents passed away, there in the basement on Dad's workbench was the goose-neck lamp. It had followed them for 40 years and was now an heirloom. The trouble with heirlooms is...the heirs have to decide what to do with them. Alan and I thought about taking it to the dump, but we couldn't. Alan is retired from teaching, now and has a workshop in his basement. He makes one-of-a-kind kayaks. He has a nice workbench where he cuts the wood and copper, which he carefully sets into the sides of his kayaks... and, illuminating the workbench, is the goose-neck lamp. Going to the dump has lost its luster for us now, but our memory of Dad's "hunt for treasure" and the goose-neck lamp still remains!