Siss, The Blue Coat, and a Near-Death Experience

Siss and I, although only three years apart in age, have often been oceans apart in experience and social skills. Just think of thirteen and sixteen. There you have it. At the time of The Episode of the Blue Coat, Siss and I were, respectively fourteen and seventeen or fifteen and eighteen. I was a freshman in high school and she was a senior, and we both changed ages in the second semester. Sue me.

I have already mentioned the "Hill Section" of Scranton, and I by no means exaggerated the incline of those hills. They were steep, man. We ( Cella, Siss, and I) lived at the very bottom of the hills, on a street called Jefferson Avenue. Almost every old town has streets named after various presidents and statesmen, and Scranton was quite creative about mixing them up. On the way up the hill, there were, Jefferson, Madison, Monroe, Quincy, Clay, Webster, Taylor, Irving, Prescott, Harrison,Wheeler, Colfax, Arthur, and then Nay Aug Park, where the large man-made lake was called Lake Lincoln. Scranton never wanted you to forget about the presidents, but the city felt free to throw in other dudes like Irving, for those of a literary bent.

I can remember one Christmas Eve when Cella and I left our little apartment looking for a Christmas tree. We had almost no money, so we had to wait until Christmas Eve, when all the trees had been picked over and the remaining rejects were on sale for next-to-nothing, or free. Since we lived at the bottom of the Hill Section, there was no place to look but up, so up we climbed, in a steadily worsening snowfall. Almost at the top of the hills, and well after dark, we came upon a tree lot that was closing but still had some trees left. I think the man felt sorry for us because we were on foot, so he gave us a cute little Douglas Fir, which Cella at once named "Doug", for free.

We were happy as we began the descent, for we had saved the five dollars that we had earmarked for the tree, for extra Christmas nuts or candy. Almost as soon as we started being happy, disaster set in. The wind picked up, and the snowfall became a veritable blizzard, forcing us to crouch and slide on the ice-covered slate sidewalks. Finally, the ever-resourceful Cella pointed Doug's little stem downhill, told me to take a seat, and climbed aboard the tree behind me. We rode home in some modicum of style. This is what I remember the most; when we arrived at the warm apartment and dragged "Doug" inside, there were all the lights and ornaments and icicles and tinsel and popcorn balls and gingerbread men, laid out and waiting for us to decorate. The tree stand was in the middle of the tiny living room. All this had been there when we left, but I never stopped to think then that Cella had no money....but she always had hope and optimism. The smallest things in life were always a cause for celebration for her. This is the thing that I hope I inherited from Cella.

I have not gotten to the story of The Blue Coat yet, but I hope that the Christmas Tree schtick has given some idea of how steep and treacherous the Hill Section can be. That is important to this part of the story. On the day in question, Siss had gone up the hill to see her best friend Jill, with whom she sang in a Peter-Paul-and-Mary type folk group. They had, besides themselves, a boy who played guitar and a boy who played double bass. Siss and Jill had bought matching outfits for performance; mohair suits with straght skirts and little vests. Siss' was blue and Jill wore yellow. The group billed itself as "The Singletons".

It was cold and raw and wet that day, so Siss borrowed the only garment that I owned that I truly cared for; my slate-blue, wide-wale corduroy car-coat. It sported a hood which was trimmed with red fox fur, and had wooden beer-barrel buttons that closed on loops down the front. She was my big sister. I was proud that I owned something that she deemed worthy.

I stayed home that day. The weather made me want to read and talk on the 'phone. It was growing dark, and Siss still hadn't showed up, so Cella called Jill's house and found out that Siss had left there several hours before. Cella was frantic. She called Jack, from whom she had (thank Heaven) separated, and he got in his car and started for our place. Before he got there, the door burst open and a distraught and dripping Siss came in. Here is what happened to her, and by association, my Blue Coat:

Siss was walking home from Jill's house, being careful to avoid the large puddles that were accumulating from the heavy rain.When it rained, the water started at the top of the hills, gathering momentum and volume as it flowed down under the streets. On this particular evening, the rain had been so heavy that it rushed down and popped the manhole cover off at one of the corners where Siss had to cross. She stepped off the curb, through the water, and fell into the manhole.

The rushing water grabbed her legs and pulled them underneath the street. She thrust her arms out over the lip of the hole and struggled to kick herself free. My coat became sodden, and was so heavy that it kept her down. She could not even release an arm long enough to take the coat off.

There she stayed for a very long time. We still do not know how she finally mamaged to get out of the hole and avoid being sucked into oblivion underneath the streets of Scranton. Siss does not remember this herself. All she remembers is bursting in through the door of home and collapsing on Cella. Jack came in shortly thereafter, and took Siss out with him after she has gotten into some dry clothes. This part never made any sense to me, but Jack took Siss to one of his neighborhood Irish bars, either Joyce's or Judge's, and bought her a glass of wine. First, what kind of an Irish bar serves wine? Second, an Irish bar probably serves the kind of wine that would take the paint off your car. Third, why on earth take a traumatized teenager to a bar to have a drink? Siss got the glass of wine in her hand, and squeezed it so hard that it shattered.

I hope that I did not take after Jack in this respect.