clock: Browse The Strips
Tuesday, February 22, 1983
Saturday, May 19, 1984
Wednesday, December 17, 1986
Sunday, September 13, 1987
Sunday, December 6, 1987
Thursday, October 18, 1990
Sunday, January 8, 1995
Sunday, April 3, 2005
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Saturday, May 18, 2013
Lynn's Comments: It took days to sort through everything. Behind every stack of familiar flotsam was stuff we never knew she had. Parting with some of it was going to be hard. We had several family meetings to determine the fate of Ruth and Tom's collection.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Lynn's Comments: This is another true situation. There were times when I was so engrossed in writing or drawing the strip that I was oblivious to everything else around me. My kids could talk to me, ask for things, say stuff that didn't make sense, and I'd simply nod and smile. An entire day could go by and I'd forget to eat or even get up and walk around. It was like being in a sound sleep. There were times when people would have to distract me from my work, look me in the eye, make sure I was absolutely focused on them, and then say what they wanted me to hear!
Sunday December 4, 2016
Lynn's Comments: My mom always had the sheers drawn. Heaven forbid that anyone should see into the front window of our little house on 5th Street. If we wanted to look out the window, my brother and I would kneel on the couch, press our faces to the glass, and see what we could through the sheers: the white, almost transparent drapery, which smelled of dust and cigarettes. I hated them. As a kid, I thought the curtains should always be open. Surprisingly, when I had a house of my own, I too was determined to have the curtains closed for privacy. This Sunday strip was, again, a true story!
Thursday October 17, 2019
Lynn's Comments: From my bed, behind a closed door, I could hear the car arrive and the door open. I could hear a key in the lock, footsteps in the hall, and bedroom lights click on. I knew exactly who was home, what time they came in, and how long it took them to settle down. They always thought I was sleeping.