home: Browse The Strips

Friday, June 14, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Because I worked from home, there were moms in town who felt they could drop in for coffee any time. One of these ladies was very offended when I asked her to come when I wasn't working and to please call first. Both of her kids were in school; I was paying a sitter to watch Kate. Every hour at the drafting board meant time I could spend with my family later. It was a hard concept for some--who thought that doodling on paper couldn't possibly be work!

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

Lynn's Comments: I had a good-sized wash tub in the backyard. It would take two of us to get him to the tub and then into it. Once he was in, he gave up the fight and put up with the scrubbing.

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Lynn's Comments: After he was bathed and dried, it took another hour or more to comb out his fur and get him to look good again. The final touch was an elastic band in his hair to hold it away from his eyes. The ability to see, however, gave him a clear shot at the ravine behind our house or the nearest pile of stink he could roll in. I don't think he ever stayed clean for more than a day, but it was worth the effort just to have him smell good for a change!

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Lynn's Comments: We had owned a small aircraft ever since Aaron was 4 years old, so he was no stranger to flying. With floats in the summer and skis in the winter, our Cessna 185 was like a flying carpet--which could take us anywhere we wished to go. We all loved to fly, and even the bumpiest trips were fun.

Saturday, June 29, 2013

Lynn's Comments: We questioned ourselves. Were we being too liberal? Too trusting? Was it wrong to let such a young boy go so far on his own?

Monday, July 1, 2013

Lynn's Comments: My friends who were lucky enough to own a piano and get lessons often complained about the torture they suffered having to practice for recitals and such. Years later, with the stress of learning far behind them, they thanked their parents at long last for giving them the gift of music.

Friday, July 5, 2013

Lynn's Comments: After about the age of 7, Aaron never admitted to being attached to his teddy bear. At the age of 18, however, when he left home for Vancouver in search of work, he called from his small, sparse apartment and said in a small voice... "Uh, Mom? Could you, um send me my...teddy?" I didn't say anything. I didn't laugh. I sent him the teddy his grandmother had lovingly made, knowing it was something he loved and needed. It sits on his dresser to this day. Aaron turned 40 this year!

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Alan might kill me for this, but as a little kid, he DID carry around a blanket. Actually, it was my blue chenille bedspread, which he inherited when the corners became twisted and grey. When it started to rot, Mom cut it up into smaller pieces so he'd have even more corners to chew on. By the time these pieces deteriorated, he was old enough to go to Beaver camp (junior Scouts in Canada), and Dad suggested he have a ceremonial blankie burning in the fireplace. Alan stuffed his remaining blankies into a shoebox. Dad put lighter fluid over the contents, made a hole in the lid, pulled out a wick of blankie, and the solemn ceremony took place. Al, with sadness and stoicism, sat and watched the box burn to ashes as Dad sat beside him with his arm around his shoulder. It was a coming of age for my brother and a time when Dad proved, beyond a doubt, that he understood kids better than anybody we knew!

Sunday, July 7, 2013

Lynn's Comments: When this strip appeared, I had immediate responses from stargazers who told me that on that date in our time zone, the crescent would be going in the other direction. They were right. From this time on, I made sure I checked out the phases of the moon on our calendar before drawing a moon in the sky!

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Lynn's Comments: My husband had all kinds of models. He loved to make them just for the fun of figuring them out. He even built a model aircraft when we were on our honeymoon, so modelling was definitely in his blood. He could focus for hours, shaving off an infinitesimal piece of plastic here, fitting an impossibly tiny piece there. He had endless patience when it came to building complicated model ships, vehicles, and aircraft. Interestingly, he had much less patience with kids!

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Aaron had a wonderful time in Vancouver. He was spoiled and pampered, and if he ever felt that he was getting less attention than his little sister, he was well compensated by the way my folks doted on him. Ahhh, this is what grandparents are for!

Friday, July 26, 2013

Lynn's Comments: When I saw this in the paper, I almost wept. I had done the strip as a "bit of truth," but had no idea how serious the situation was and I berated myself for my poor mothering skills.

Friday, August 2, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Even though she was the centre of attention when he was gone and even though they fought often, Katie really missed her older brother. She'd lie awake and talk about him. One night, she even asked if she could sleep in his bed.

Sunday, August 4, 2013

Lynn's Comments: My father loved to dance. He would pick me up and dance with me until I fell asleep in his arms. He could sing so well and knew the words to so many songs that he never seemed to run out of waltzes or shanties or tunes from the bar. I remember the swoop of his body as he waltzed to the "Blue Danube" with theatrical panache. He could two-step and tango and polka and jive, and I melted into his shoulder with the rhythm and the warmth of his style.

Last November, my daughter, Katie, and her husband, Lane, presented me with my first grandchild. Laura is now almost two years old, and she loves to dance with me. I hold her the way my father held me. I sing the same songs, and I move with the same style. I thank him again and again for this memory and a gift that I'm now passing on.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Now that I am dogless, I find dog breath hard to take. When I had Farley, his breath came with warm licks, and his enquiring sniffs were more than welcome. Even so, there were times when I couldn't stomach the smell. Once, when Farley ate my chives, I was overwhelmed by his breath, but there was one time that was much worse; I was standing at my kitchen window watching him happily lying on the warm driveway, chewing something he'd found with obvious relish. He chewed with that look of ecstasy, the look children have when they're eating ice cream, that blissful satisfaction that comes with flavour and fun and mouth-watering fulfillment. He'd toss his head back, reposition his prize, and chew again. He was happy. Eventually, my curiosity got to me and I went out to see what succulent something he was chewing on. I couldn't believe my eyes. The object he was blissfully savouring was a flat, well-rotted, dried-out toad. To Farley, it was dog jerky. To me, it was horrible. I would have shown the true source of Farley's halitosis, but really, it was too gross for publication! [Eventually this gag did make an appearance, with Edgar doing the dirty deed.]