At Lake Scranton

The parking lot for the reservoir is elevated and flush with the road that inclines past the lake and into the Pocono Mountains. From the lot, it is necessary to crash through some bushes and walk down to the hiking/running loop on the aforementioned glacial rocks and a carpet of pine needles. Pennsylvania's state tree is the Eastern Hemlock, and these majestic trees abound around Lake Scranton. The Eastern Hemlock is an evergreen tree that lays down its discarded needles year after year. Everyone calls them "pine needles" because if they said "hemlock needles", no one would know what they were talking about.

We were about halfway down to the lake when the first squirrel discovered us. His friends weren't far behind. I had remembered from years past that it was wise to bring an offering of nuts, but now I was not so sure. I think that the many years of these offerings had programmed something into the DNA of the wildlife there. Nothing had prepared me for how the situation had escalated. I was glad that I had brought two bags of nuts.

I am familiar with how Disney movies go. I have seen dozens of them. They almost all include woodland creatures like mice and birds and squirrels and chipmunks. The accompanying music is haunting, and all the heroines can sing beautifully and have waists the size of a Barbie doll's. Yeah, I can sing, and quite well. When I was eight, I used to practice being a Disney heroine at my Grandma Lavina's house. Next door to her, the owner's younger brother, Corbett (Corby) Jennings, used to mow their considerable lawn. Being totally smitten with Corby, who was at least twenty, I would walk up and down grandma's sidewalk, singing Disney tunes in my sweetest voice. This was supposed to put the come-hither on Corby, just like in the movies. Since he was operating a lawn mower, it is highly unlikely that he ever heard my paeans to love. I generally got tired of pouring my heart out and retreated to the coal chute, where I would pick out a nice piece of anthracite to draw a hopscotch on the walk. So much for young love. I do not, however, sing to roving squirrels, and on this particular day I was practically running from them. There was no accompanying score except for our laughter, and at every step on the way down to the lake shore, the rustling foliage seemed to bring out a new and hungry face. The chipmunks were undoubtedly the cutest, and tended to come in clusters. They followed me and Siss at a safer distance than the bold little squirrels, but would quickly gather when we paused, their eyes fixed on the paper bags.

The walk around the reservoir began rather slowly, for the chipmunks and squirrels were so cute that we stopped every five yards to turn and give them some nuts. Cheeky devils! I'll bet this is why they gather at the parking lot; fresh victims with bags of goodies. They would stay until their tiny cheeks were filled to the bursting point and then hobble off to deposit the booty and return for more. As we made our way down the path, one group would drop off and immediately be replaced by another. Siss and I had to start rationing the nuts, or we would never have made it around the entire loop without riot gear. At one point we even met a deer, grazing unworried at the side of the path. She accepted her portion of peanuts as her due and ate them, shells and all, as we walked on. Disney himself could never do better than this! These creatures have known for many generations that they are safe here. There is no hunting permitted on this protected land, including the surrounding watershed. The only visitors are those like ourselves, who come for a breath of fresh air and some exercise, and always bring food offerings.

We passed runners and walkers, parents with strollers, dads and sons, old buddies shuffling along in the dappled light. We stopped at the elevated stone viewing platform to look out over the entire lake and watch the tiny fishes sticking safely to the shallow water that lapped the rocky shore. I don't remember what we talked about, but it was a time of remembering for us both. I did not come to Scranton as often as Siss did, but I am sure that she did not visit these nostalgic places on a regular basis. We had taken this same walk on the weekend of Cella's memorial, when we talked about our mother and how we would always miss her presence. It had been more than six years since that day, and I did still think of Cella every day, and missed her on that walk.

I was very aware of the fact that, had Siss not been with me, I would have run the three-plus miles around the lake. That is one of the great differences between us, and always has been. I am kinetic, she is motionless. I run, she strolls. When we go to the gym together, I can see that she follows a routine that is familiar and easy for her. She never breaks a sweat, and her hair stays neat. She shows no muscle tone in her slightly overweight body. Therefore, when we are together, the fleet moves at the speed of the slowest ship. We walked around Lake scranton.

I really needed that run, the one that I wasn't getting. The days of physical immobility, the Wet Rag, the food, my sister organizing us like a tour guide; all these things had me wound very tightly and I wanted so very badly to "scream and run". I controlled myself and walked on amid the throngs of runners, walkers, and wildlife.

It has often occurred to me that it is so my fault to allow this "all about me" behavior and politely subjugate myself to my sister's "needs". For more than forty years, I had allowed her to come into and go out of my life as she saw fit. Sometimes she needed to run, and always did so nastily so that I wouldn't be tempted to follow. I let her run and I let her come back, sometimes years later, as if nothing had occurred. I think that I did this because I always saw exactly what made her tick. I understood her fears and her backing away from life and her retreat into therapy. As a result of this understanding I grew a very long fuse and let it burn. Somewhere on the shores of Lake Scranton, the fuse began to get very, very short. There were warning signs that I was about to open my big mouth and let fly a reaction to the crap of all those years. Yet I walked on, threw my peanuts, and laughed in the sun at things that weren't even funny.