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In the wake of my grandmother’s death, many of the comments on my Facebook page offered this traditional Jewish condolence: “May her memory be a blessing to you.” Less than 24 hours after her passing, Grandma Shirley’s memory is already a blessing; a very well dressed, outspoken blessing. And it’s pushing a vacuum cleaner. As a kid, my relationship with Grandma Shirley wasn’t so much a loving bond as it was a battle of wills: She willed me to behave, and I responded with willful disobedience. If Shirley was the hammer, I was that annoying little nail, forever slipping out of grasp and bending sideways—impossible to control.
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When we were very young, my little sister and I would drop off our “babies” at “daycare” with my mom. Then we’d go to our women’s lib meetings, where we marched around the living room, raising fists and chanting, “Women’s… women’s… womennnnn’s… WOMEN’S LIB!” There we were—two little Jewish girls holding a fascist rally for feminism—while our mom sat in the other room with our dolls, laughing her ass off. Happy Mother’s Day, Mom! Thanks for making me into the weirdo I am today.
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I recently started the slow journey back in time to redraw some of my older comics. Unfortunately, my improved drawing skills have had little effect on laundry day (or my marriage). Take a look below to see how my updated version compares with the original, which was done in 2012. I think the updated cartoon lacks some of the charm of the original. What do you think? I drew the original before Harry Haddad came along, so he didn’t appear in the older version: I still can’t decide which one I prefer, but if I ever want to do a book, the artwork will need to be consistent. One way or another, it looks like there’s going to be a lot of drawing in my future.
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