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Friday, May 1, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Looking back I wonder how I managed to concentrate on such a solo job with life going on all around me. I had to divide my time carefully. I kept to a routine--depending on my daycare provider across the street and the time Aaron would be in school. My most productive hours were between 9:00 am and noon. I wouldn't be able to go back to the studio until both kids were fed and ready for bed. I often worked until midnight, then I was up by 6:00 am the next day to get breakfast prepared, lunches ready, and set out the kids' clothes for the day. It's no wonder that the drawings done in my early years were so simple!

Sunday, May 3, 2015

Lynn's Comments: After this strip ran, I received dozens of letters from readers who wanted to know what the heck was Michael doing with a bag of milk! Everyone knows that milk comes in waxed paper cartons or in plastic jugs, so what was this all about anyway?!

All an artist has to draw from is what she sees around her, and in my place of residence, milk comes in cartons, but also in strong plastic bags with a set of three bags of milk inside. Each smaller bag contains a litre of milk and we use special plastic or pottery jugs to keep them upright in the fridge. This way of packaging milk is as familiar in Canada as Coke in a can, so I assumed my readers everywhere would get the gag! Not so. The thing that struck me about the questioning letters was that some of them were as cruel and derisive as the trolls on the internet are today. They spoke with indignant authority, demanding to know what the **** I was talking about! Didn't I KNOW that milk doesn't come in bags?

Fortunately, this was when mean messages came with return addresses and we had a lot of fun sending photos and copies of milk advertisements to those who needed to see it for themselves. The impression I got from this was that not enough people travel, and they should!--Especially to Canada.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Lynn's Comments: This was done at a time when letters from readers were coming in such volume that I had to ask a friend to help me answer them. It was the simple, every day things people related to. Things like never-ending laundry, phones ringing in the middle of dinner, and the fact that it would be nice to hear the word "thanks" once in awhile.

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I toyed with the idea of making the punch line something like: "But, Mom, you don't PAY me!" But then, I thought back to the times in my own childhood when I hated doing menial tasks at home but would help a neighbour just for the fun of it. I didn't actually enjoy doing things for my parents until I was well into my teens! When it comes to understanding kids, it's a good thing we have our memories to rely on. We just have to admit that we did the exact same things.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Lynn's Comments: For years, the lot next door to our house on Fifth Street was empty. Then it was sold and the new house seemed to take forever to be built. During the time of construction, my mom railed at the dirt, the plaster, and all the dangerous materials that were left lying about on the property. We kids had a wonderful time playing in the sand, jumping on the plywood and piling up the bricks. I clearly remember sitting on my knees shaping plaster and dirt into patties, and then tasting them to see if they had turned into cookies. I was convinced they were the real thing!

Thursday, May 14, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Living in North Vancouver meant putting up with wet and cloudy weather. As soon as a sunny day arrived, Mom would shove us outside and leave us there. Sometimes we found amazing things to do and didn't want to go back inside until the sun went down. And, sometimes we felt as though we had been banished forever. If I send myself back in time and imagine that I'm six years old sitting on our front porch waiting to be allowed back in, I feel--hungry. In order to keep us out of her hair, maybe Mom should have fed us first.

Sunday, May 17, 2015

Lynn's Comments: During the 50s, bubble gum cost two cents a piece. Two pieces would fill your mouth with a perfect wad--the best for blowing bubbles. We kids would go to the corner store, pool our money, and buy the two pieces. Then, we would share the gum! The wad had to go from mouth to mouth in good time so that the flavour was enjoyed by all. Sometimes, as many as four kids would share. We'd all see who could blow the biggest bubble. It got in our hair, on our clothes, and our mouths would sport a dirty, sticky circle of gunge as we blew and popped and blew again.

AAAAUGH! I can't believe I told you that!

Sunday, May 24, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Counting to three is a joke. Really. When kids hear you count to three, they, naturally, watch to see what comes afterwards. DUHHHH--We bozo adults are then left to find some nebulous consequence. This is such a dumb thing to instigate. So, why is it that we all do it? --All of us! All the time!!!

Thursday, May 28, 2015

Lynn's Comments: When I first started to do public speaking I was so scared, I was physically ill. But I wanted to learn, so I accepted all kinds of invitations and I did my talks for free. I got to feel confident and decided to ask for an honorarium but I had no idea how much to ask for. I did talks for charity and talks for the price of the airfare and a hotel. Eventually, when I was happy with my presentations, well compensated, and able to enjoy the sight of a huge audience--I didn't want to do it anymore!

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Lynn's Comments: This was a scenario from home. My daughter, Katie, had, at the age of four, learned how to use a screwdriver, and had gone about my mother-in-law's house unscrewing things. Ruth tried to open a kitchen cupboard door and it came off in her hands along with the handle. We were both perplexed. How in the world had all the screws come loose? We looked about for Katie and found her outside in the driveway trying to take the license plates off my car!

Monday, June 1, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Every time I moved to a new town, I got involved in projects which would improve things: flowers and signs to welcome visitors, painting an eyesore building on a main street corner, fixing up a church, cleaning up the cenotaph. Some of these things were successful and some were not, but along with other like-minded volunteers, I worked hard. After a few years, I stopped trying to improve things and became as complacent as everyone else. It seems to me that it's the newcomers to town who see the flaws around their city and try to fix them. Long time residents just accept things the way they are and don't seem to care any more. Hooray for the newcomers!

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Lynn's Comments: Over the years, I have signed petitions based on the information given by the person who asked me to sign. I confess I didn't always read the paper I was signing and could have been adding my name to a petition for, well--just about anything!

Friday, June 12, 2015

Lynn's Comments: My first husband was a radio announcer when I met him, and my second worked as a disc jockey for a while, as well, so I was pretty familiar with the workings of a radio station. Even so, I was tense and far too giddy when it was my turn at the microphone, and I did some awful interviews!

Monday, June 15, 2015

Lynn's Comments: I sent in this strip knowing it wasn't one of my best. Again, the pressure of a relentless deadline will often result in an "OK, it's done, I'm sending it!" situation. For someone trying to analyze this for its humour (and there are people who do this kind of thing), what I was trying to do was to contrast Lizzie's English language gaffes with something which has meaning. HUH? Anyway, it didn't work. This is where a storyline (rather than gag-a-day) helps because the audience, by following a series, might overlook one lousy strip! Did I make that clear? No? Uhhhh--OK--NEXT!!!

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

Lynn's Comments: "I'm gradulating" is exactly what my daughter, Katie said. The simplest things can be turned into a smile.

Friday, June 19, 2015

Lynn's Comments: These days are gone. Few parents will send their youngsters out to play now with a lunch bag and instructions to be home by six. But, this is how it was when I was a kid growing up in North Vancouver. We all played up and down the street until dark; until our mothers were hoarse from shouting.

I got some criticism for doing this strip, but at the time, my kids were quite free to roam too. We lived in a tiny rural town, and I could watch the lane from my kitchen and most of the neighbours' houses from my front window. I always knew where they were, and if I didn't, someone else was on the job. We moms were careful and the kids, we thought, were safe. Even so, I'm reminded of a story: Katie, who was perhaps 4 years old, had been playing in the lane with some friends. I lost sight of her and decided to go and see where she was. I found her in the hall of a neighbour's house. One of the boys, a 6 year old, was holding a rifle saying, "I know where the bullets are! I know where the bullets are!" His parents were at the bar and had left their oldest child in charge--she was 8. I asked the boy to give me the gun. I placed it back on the rack in the hallway. I took Katie home and told her she could play with those kids any time, but it had to be at our house.

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

Lynn's Comments: This was my one bit of grandstanding in support of the arts. From community to community and from school to school, it always seems that athletics are better funded and better equipped than anything else. We called it, "The jocks VS the smocks."