Cathy Guisewite scribbled her way to a newspaper comic strip

Instead of wearing the little tiger outfit my mom bought me, I put on the headband and clumsy skirt my friend gave me. Then she marched us around the room in protest, leaving the teacher in shock and me embarrassed.

I was torn between my heart and my head – a conflict that would resurface regularly in my comic “Cathy” in the years to come.

I grew up in three homes in Midland, Michigan. The one I remember best was a two-story brick house with a large backyard at the end of a cul-de-sac. Beyond our backyard was a stream and a huge field. Our cat caught mice there and dropped them outside our front door. My father built a small hospital for injured mice, but I don’t know if we saved any.

Midland was an incredibly gentle and safe place in the 1950s and 1960s. My older sister, Mary Anne, and I walked to school every day.

My father, Bill, was co-owner of a small advertising agency, Church & Guisewite, and a design studio, C&G Graphics. Virtually everyone in town worked for the Dow Chemical Co.

My mother, Anne, had a bachelor’s degree in journalism from Kent State. She then earned her master’s degree at Central Michigan University. She never shared this part of her life until a few years ago.

While my father was in World War II, my mother worked as a copywriter at a local department store. When he came back from the war, they got married and she stopped working. In my mind, giving up his career was a great injustice. But she never expressed regret.

At home, I shared a room with Mary Anne until I was 10 when our younger sister, Mickey, was born. After that, I got my own room. I covered the walls with pictures of dogs – a campaign I led to convince my parents to buy me one.

At school, I hung out with a small group that was neither cool nor uncool, just nice. We were all Girl Scouts and very involved in religious groups. I have never been bullied at school. I never told a single joke either. I was a quiet child who stood back and listened. I was the girl at the community center dance, back against the wall, just watching.

After high school, I attended the University of Michigan. I majored in English literature and took a creative writing course. After the second assignment, my teacher was so impressed that he let me write whatever I wanted.

After college, I went to work for an ad agency in Detroit as a copywriter. At 25, I was vice-president, an honorary title but a measure of success.

In the late 70s, I was between a brilliant career and a miserable love life. The world was changing dramatically for women, a huge societal rebellion that I wanted but didn’t want to join. At night, I would sit at my kitchen table and write in my journal about the confusion I felt, always waiting for the wrong person to call.

Sometimes I would pause in the journal and scribble pictures of my frustration. Seeing myself in my drawings made me feel good. I sent some to my parents to let them know how I was doing.

My mother had always encouraged me to write about feelings instead of talking about them. She immediately said that my doodles could be a comic. I was beyond shocked. They were pictures of me at my most vulnerable.

She went to the library to research comic syndicates. Then she sent me a typed list of companies I should contact first. Universal Press Syndicate was in the lead. I made a small presentation book and I sent it. Within a few days, Universal wrote back to me wanting to sign me to do a comic. I didn’t know how to draw, but I loved challenges.

Most mothers would have simply taped the drawings to their refrigerator. What my mother had suggested seemed insane. In the end, she was right.

Today, I live in the Studio City section of Los Angeles in a ranch-style house with an upstairs room for my office.

I quit stripping in 2010 because my daughter was starting her senior year of high school, my parents were 90 in Florida and I was 60. I wanted more time for my life.

I don’t miss the deadlines, but I do miss the connection I had with the readers. Many women have been through the same things as me but had no place to get rid of them. I could vent their frustrations.

Mom supported me when I told her. She told me how proud she was. Then she said, “You know, we don’t really need help here.

Cathy’s jokes

Favorite dessert: Dairy Queen Vanilla Ice Cream Dipped in Chocolate

Best makeup tip: don’t go out

Favorite mascara brand: Maybelline Pharmacy

Type of balance owned: A vintage vertical drugstore model that you drop a coin into. It also indicates your fortune.

Everyday car: All-electric white Fiat 500E. It looks like a cartoon car.

Cooler car: A beige Jaguar XKE from 1968 bought in 1984. It is under a cover.

Does it work: No, but I plan to have it repaired this summer.

Favorite swimsuit: There will never be a favorite swimsuit.