Monthly Archives: August 2013

Saturday August 3, 2013

Lynn’s Notes:

This is a big mistake. Stuff that hasn’t been used, touched, or thought about for years will — at some time, be missed…and when it is, the one who threw it out will suffer. In my experience, it’s better to bear the burden of a trash-strewn habitat than to try and replace some obscure book, toy, or item of clothing. It took me years to replace a plush caterpillar of my daughter’s and when I found a good replica, she was in university. I still wish I hadn’t thrown out the original!

Sunday August 4, 2013

Lynn’s Notes:

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.

Wednesday August 7, 2013

Lynn’s Notes:

My mother-in-law was chronically late — for everything. Whenever we went anywhere, we gave ourselves extra time to accommodate Ruth who would always have one more thing to do before we left. We began to tell her we were leaving an hour earlier than planned with the faint hope we could leave on time. Nothing ever worked. We smile to think that the only big event she was ever on time for was her own funeral! My own mother, on the other hand was always a few minutes early!

Friday August 16, 2013

Lynn’s Notes:

Aaron did bring a gift for each one of us — fortunately, there were no crabs. This idea came from one of my own attempts to keep wildlife. Trips to the beach on the west coast often included digging in the tide pools, where we’d find all kinds of neat sea creatures. One day I brought home a pail full of crabs, which I left in the trunk of the car. I didn’t remember them until my mom said there was a horrible smell coming from the trunk. That smell stayed for weeks … and so did Mom’s anger!

Sunday August 18, 2013

Lynn’s Notes:

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.]

Sunday August 25, 2013

Lynn’s Notes:

So many times I ran around my neighbourhood with a finger or a plastic gun, pointing at friends and crying, “BANG! You’re dead!” It was exciting. It was fun. We heard the headline news and listened to our parents. Dad had been in the war, but nothing they said made a difference. We were on a mission to win something. We didn’t know what. There was no real sense to it, nobody explained why we were fighting or what death meant. We were just caught up in the thrill and the energy and the noise and the fun. Later, as a cartoonist, I saw a striking similarity to a child’s attitude and what really happens in a war.

Tuesday August 27, 2013

Lynn’s Notes:

The quote “my lungs sound like a barn full of owls” came from my dad. He was a pack-a-day smoker whose health was steadily deteriorating. Cigarettes were a staple for many musicians, but Dad’s declining health and Alan’s growing maturity made him see that he had to quit before he couldn’t play the trumpet any more.