sunday: Browse The Strips

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Here is another strip that got me into hot water. Removing Michael's towel while he was changing was a reportable offense! The problem with a static image is the subtle elements, which would otherwise explain things, are not there. You can't show subtle things like eye movement, shrugs, knowing smiles, and reassuring gestures. The artist knows the situation is all in fun, but the audience does not. What should be funny is therefore sometimes misinterpreted.

As kids, we would change on the beach under our towels so fast that even the swiftest voyeur was unable to catch us in the buff. We'd yell out "I'm changing!!" just to goad someone into pulling off our towels. That's what kids do! Anyway, this ran and I knew as I saw it in print that I would soon be getting more mail. I learned another lesson... but then again, this job is all "towel and error!"

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Lynn's Comments: This was me. I remember tying knots in the curtains, jumping on the couch, melting crayons on the radiator, peeling the wallpaper, and dropping toys into the biff. I don't think I was doing these things to be destructive as much as I needed stuff to do. We didn't have a TV, mom worked all the time doing laundry, canning, cleaning, and making meals. And when she wasn't doing housework, she sewed for us and did repairs and alterations for the dry cleaners down the street. She tried all kinds of things to keep us occupied. It's just that we needed constant attention and she wasn't superhuman. She did the best she could. Rainy weather often kept us indoors even in summertime, so it would be interesting for me to poll some of my fellow North Vancouverites to see if they too were as full of mischief as we were.

Sunday, September 16, 2012

Lynn's Comments: I don't really like this strip. Even though the things Elly says about herself are exactly the way I felt, I don't think I handled this idea well. What I wanted to say is: It's easy to criticize, but the truth is... nobody's perfect. Oh well. When a strip I hated came out, I'd cringe, wish I had done something better, and be glad that it would be forgotten by the next day. This was before we started reprinting the duds for everyone to read in perpetuity. So, do me a favour... skip this one and go on to the next!

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Here is another true-to-Johnston-life happening. Rod decided to carry on his father's tradition of making pancakes on Sunday morning but cancelled his next performance due to lack of interest. In colder climates, even pancakes aren't enough to make one leave a warm, toasty bed!

Sunday, November 4, 2012

Lynn's Comments: The original Farley really did love chewing gum. I discovered his penchant for gum when I saw him take some out of a wastebasket, work the Kleenex off it, and continue to chew for some time without swallowing. I had never seen a dog do this before, so Farley's gum chewing became a bit of a party trick. He particularly liked Juicy Fruit--even if it had been previously enjoyed. The thing was to make sure I was there when he spat it out, or I'd have a surprise on my foot later on.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Lynn's Comments: I rarely saw my parents kissing. Sometimes they held hands but it was a discreet show of affection--which was quickly over if someone drew attention to it. Still, they were very romantic. They thought about each other and did things for each other easily and naturally. They were husband and wife, but they were also the best of friends. I often made fun of the two of them and their mushy ways, but in the end, I wish for all the world I could have had a marriage like theirs.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Aaron and Katie were both independent children. Trusting and eager to explore, they enjoyed Kindergarten, Saturday art classes, junior skating, and other activities that required them to be separated from Mom and Dad for a period of time. I credit this not just to parenting but to the wonderful daycare workers, playschool teachers, babysitters, and other caregivers who worked with them during their formative years. Together, we instilled confidence in themselves and confidence in us. We were really fortunate to have such a responsible, trustworthy team of people to back us up and give the kids a healthy, enjoyable, and safe environment to grow up in.

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Lynn's Comments: This little snowsuit, Katie actually wore. It was one of my favourites and when I washed it, I foolishly put it in a hot dryer. It came out looking like a scraggly, matted sheep and I cried when I saw it. Kate didn't seem to notice and happily wore it until it became too small. At the time, my mother's creed was, "If it doesn't go into the washer and dryer, it goes OUT!" After this, I became much more practical. I bought things that could be easily laundered, and I made sure I was aware of her favourite things. My motto was, "If it's cute and she likes it--LOOK AFTER IT!"

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Lynn's Comments: In the log home we owned from 1983 until 2003 our laundry was upstairs and out of the way. It was therefore easily ignored until we needed clean clothes. Next to the laundry appliances I had a sewing table, which would eventually become so heaped with mending that the sewing machine disappeared. When I finally grit my teeth and settled into the task of fixing all the defective duds, I would inevitably discover items of kids' clothing that had been there so long, my kids had outgrown them! By putting this scenario into the strip, I absolved myself of guilt and hoped that other busy moms would also forgive themselves and do what I did: pass the stuff on to someone else! I did, however, repair it beforehand!

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Lynn's Comments: I have always wondered what it is that makes boys and men want to run around shooting each other, when a really good, moderated argument would resolve almost anything. My thinking is: If women ruled the world, we'd get the politics over with expediently, thereby saving the civilian population, then do our best to rejuvenate each other's economies by shopping! This said by someone who admits to having been a street fighter at the age of five!

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Lynn's Comments: My dad took us to the Hudson's Bay store one year to see Santa. We were a bit too old to do the Santa thing, but this was something we felt we were doing for Dad. He was in a great mood and enthusiastically encouraged us to wait in a long line. As we stood there, he went on and on about the decorations and the scene in which Santa had been placed. I remember thinking that he was way more excited about this than we were. Eventually, Alan and I had our turns on Santa's lap, were photographed, given a candy cane, and allowed to go. Dad was beaming, and on the bus heading home, he quizzed us about our Santa experience. "Well," I said, "he was greasy and smelled like cigarettes and needed to use a toothbrush really badly."

Alan added, "His beard wasn't real and didn't fit right, and I didn't like the way he said 'Ho, Ho, Ho'." Dad looked out the window of the bus for a while and said little else about our trip to see the great Claus. When we got home, I overheard Dad talking to Mom about our excursion. As it turned out ... the man who was dressed as Santa was a great pal of our dad's!

Sunday, December 23, 2012

Lynn's Comments: Once in a while, I would put a bit of religion into Christmas and Easter strips to prove that I DID know the reason for the celebration and to assuage the readers who thought I was far too focused on the commercial aspects. I could guarantee three kinds of mail when a strip like this was released: One came from the Christian right, who asked that much more focus be put on ecclesiastical issues; one from the atheists, who felt that I was pushing religion down their throats; and finally the moderates, who appreciated the occasional reminder that festivals like this deserve a nod to the deity for whom the chocolate was fashioned and the bells were tolled. Again, I tried to answer every letter I received. Even if I disagreed with someone's philosophy, I certainly appreciated the time they took to write to me.

Sunday, December 30, 2012

Lynn's Comments: I recently watched a series on HBO that showed not only the most graphic violence, but some of the most explicit sexual scenes I have ever witnessed! Naturally, I wouldn't want young children to see stuff like this. I thought it was over the top and unfit to show as family entertainment. I watched the entire series, glued to the set, and was sorry when it was over.

Sunday, January 6, 2013

Lynn's Comments: This scenario comes from my childhood. We never had pop or beer in our fridge--it was just too expensive. When my friends and I were old enough to go to the corner store on our own, we'd spend our allowance on a coveted bottle of Coke or Orange Crush or my absolute fave; cream soda--and we'd savour every drop.

One day, my friend Marian and I decided to buy one bottle of cream soda and a bag of penny candy and split them both. We rode our bikes back to my place, poured half the pop into a small, clean plastic detergent bottle, and drank the rest. It was a warm day so we decided to ride up to Lynn Valley Canyon and have a picnic. It took awhile to get there and by the time we arrived, we were hot and dry, and keen to take out the pop and candy. We leaned our bikes against a post and retrieved the stuff from the basket on my bike. Despite the heat, the candy was un-melted, but the once flat-sided detergent bottle was absolutely round.

With all the caution and forethought that young kids are known for, I twisted the cap as I raised the bottle to my mouth. The cap blew off hitting me in the forehead as a paint-peeling blast of cream soda smacked hard between my eyes. It was in my hair and up my nose. I was covered with it. The foam seemed to come out of the bottle for ages, and when it died down, there was still a bit of liquid in the bottom, which I gave to Marian. After all, we were supposed to share. We left our bikes, opened the candy, and walked across the swinging bridge. My clothes were already gluing themselves to my chest. I could feel the stickiness pulling at the skin on my neck. Everything smelled of sickly sweet cream soda. My hair was full of it. ... My mom would KILL me!

At the end of the path on the far side of the canyon, was a deep pool where the water fell from an outcrop above. We called the pool ,"Thirty Foot." It was the openly secret swimmin' hole for every kid on the North Shore, and by today's standards, would have been considered too dangerous and cordoned off. I hadn't planned to go swimming, but by the time I'd hiked down to Thirty Foot, I was miserable. I didn't think twice. I went to the edge of the pool and jumped in.

I think that's the first time I ever went swimming with all my clothes on. I was wearing shoes, socks, shorts--everything--and it felt wonderful! Marian decided to jump in, too, but took her shoes off first. Smart move. With other kids arriving to cool off, we couldn't strip to let our clothing dry so the wet walk back to the suspension bridge made us filthy, and soggy shoes made for an even more uncomfortable ride home. I remember everything about that day--especially the bomb in the bottle. I never yearned for a cream soda after that, and any fully clothed plunge now has to be near a change room. In wanting to show pop at its most powerful, I decided to create a Sunday strip rather than tell my soda story. It would have taken far too long!

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Lynn's Comments: The path from our front door to the driveway on Tally-Ho Road was perhaps 25 feet long, but it seemed much longer when you shovelled it. When I did this strip, we were all living in Northern Ontario, but shovelling snow is the same wherever you are. No matter how often you create a clean space, within minutes something always manages to fill it in.

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Lynn's Comments: I can't add anything to this punch line--other than to say that nothing has changed: the day I decide to get dressed late and to wear no makeup, is the day that all the delivery guys show up! This is something I hope a good iPhone application will someday eradicate.

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.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Lynn's Comments: In Vancouver during the 50's, there was a popular children's radio show called, "Kiddie's Carnival." It was done in a small studio with a live audience, which you could be part of by writing into the program and asking for tickets. It was first write, first serve. My mom managed to score two of them. Not only did she and I have tickets, but we were told that I would get to be one of the children allowed to say "hello" on Kiddie's Carnival radio!

It was an exciting day. I had never been in a radio station before and when it was my turn to go up to the microphone, I was terrified. The host was reassuring. He moved the big silver microphone right under my nose and said, "Lynn, it's your turn to say hello! Who would you like to say hello to today?" Meanwhile, my dad was at work. He had the radio on and everyone in Shores Jewellery was listening. Sweating and shaking, I leaned into the mic. and said, "Hello, Grandma and Grandpa!" Dad was crushed. He had expected me to say hello to him. I wasn't thinking. I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind. When he got home later that evening, it was clear that I had let him down. Mom thought it was nice that I had thought of her parents, though, and decided to call them and ask what they thought of the broadcast. Sadly, they hadn't been listening. To this day, I think about that missed opportunity and I wish that I'd acknowledged the one person to whom it really mattered.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

Lynn's Comments: There was a law in our house: if you didn't like what was on your plate, it didn't matter--you had to eat it all. This rule was enforced unless we were too sick to sit there or were absent altogether! My brother, Alan, was always trying to escape the likes of cold creamed peas, canned corned beef, or liver in gravy. He would hide a wad in his pockets or the cuffs of his pants and, convincingly full, would leave the table.

Once he was being so gross at dinnertime, he was sent to his room to eat. He went happily and returned minutes later with a suspiciously empty plate. He said he had eaten everything, but there was evidence to the contrary; the gravy was scraped to the side of the plate and the toilet had just been flushed. With her hands on her hips, Mom accused him of lying, but he stuck to his story. It was his word against the gravy. She gave him "the glare" but he stared her down. Mom dragged Alan to the biff. She wanted to scope out the scene of the crime but found nothing to pin on him. The gravy trail was the only real evidence; the one thing that could trip him up. With Alan's ear between her thumb and forefingers, she marched him brusquely back into the kitchen to resume her interrogation...and found our dad happily washing the dishes. The accused's plate was clean. From that day on, the rule was altered to allow for differences in tastes and appetites. Once again, Alan had defied our mom, and Dad was a hero. Until then, even HE had to eat stuff he hated!

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Lynn's Comments: Farley, the real dog, hated baths. If he just heard the word, he'd head for the hills. I usually washed him outside, but during the winter, I would stuff him into the tub, which meant the entire bathroom got wet along with him. After I dried and brushed him, Farley looked like a massive plush toy, his fur poofing out as if he'd stuck his tail in a light socket. He would look like this until he had to go outside, where he'd find something dirty to roll in. He was a lot of work, but I didn't mind. He was family...and a real character!