It came in a box handed down from my cousin, a depression era brown and slightly red plaid, old lady,itchy wool coat secure with a fake brown fur collar. It was useless to argue it would be too ugly for the schoolyard. I hated it from the moment I saw it. It was old and ugly and I think my mom was nostalgic about it as a winter "pile" coat from Sears was under $20 and at least I would fit in.No I was going to learn how to wear something ugly and get people to not talk about it and learn fortitude and perseverance and up my personality to joke it off. It was a double breasted wool coat, much like a man's coat than a women's coat. A dark ugly color, a fake fur collar that closed with a Captain Hook hook and eye closure. This closure would freeze from my breath on cold school mornings, how gross. It was the worst muddy brown coat with no bright color or design. I felt powerless and had to think quickly how I could explain myself for wearing it.
It was NOT fashionable. It was NOT girly. I wouldn't put it on a homeless person. It lasted for not one but two school years. On the school bus I was often asked "Where did I FIND this coat?" I would answer.."I don't know...but I hate as much as you do." To match this disaster of a coat, I wore this fire engine red hat and scarf ensemble, you know which red I'm talking about. The funny orange red that only be shown in acrylic. I finished off this What Not to Wear ensemble with RED rubber boots that would tightly fit over your school shoes and they had a button on the side with an elastic. That was a "winter" boot and NO they were not warm, no lining just a school shoe that fit inside them and some thin, cotton, school sock. My ugly red, practical, oxford, school shoes had an additional curse the first half of my kindergarten years. I didn't know how to tie my shoes then. When you took off these boots your shoes would stick to them and had to be slipped off of your feet. Inevitably, I had to retie my shoes or in this case, walk right past my crockety, hard nosed, know it all, spinster teacher, shoes untied, while she shook her head in disgust. She refused to tie my shoes and chastised me for not knowing how to tie them. Sweet little first teacher I ever had. Yeah thanks for that.
No bother, when we turned all of our attention to the flag and the cross to say our prayers and the pledge of allegiance, I had 2 minutes of the back of our teacher to get help from a classmate, Linda. We sat on chairs around large rectangular tables. During these prayers, Linda, would scoot under the table and tie my shoes for me. I was so nervous we would "get caught" for such an act of defiance. The others were warned "not to tell the teacher"...the kiss of death in any Catholic school arbitration Linda always insisted on tying my shoes and popped up from underneath the table just in time with a big grin of feeling useful, important, and connected. I let her as some connection as a friend to anyone would help her social standing, she wore the eyeglasses with the patch.
I'll never forget this small act of kindness, in an unyielding kindergarten Catholic school. We knew as children how to rely on each other to get what we needed. It was a truest form of giving what she had. Later, in second grade, I was her "reading" partner. She would read to me as we would do to stand by the school window, sunlight passing through the window blinds, as we took our readers to practice our reading. She memorized this story about a squirrel trying to plant jellybeans to grow a tree. Why do I remember it so well? Because it was the only story she wanted to read to me, she read very slow and struggled to grab words properly. I'm guessing she had dyslexia, in Catholic school it wasn't talked about or recognised, you simply had to manage and do what your teacher told you to do. She was always so proud when she finished the story and she did get better at it. But she never wanted to attack a new story with new words to memorize to try to sound out. I remember letting her read the same story over and over again.
It is these tender memories of kindness that make the memory of that awful brown coat with red boots not so bad. Some kids had it worse. I often wonder what happened to Linda. Is she alright? Does she know after all these long years, I still remember her small acts of kindness? As children we managed to fill in the gaps of an overstrict regime and pass on love and caring to one another for the small things we really needed.
As for that ugly coat, I was transformed when after the second year of being imprisoned in that ugly thing I came home to see a beautiful Aline trench coat, with a single line of buttons..LOVE at first sight. To this day, I love just about any trench coat. The next winter season I was to don a "Navy Blue" fake fur/pile coat that looked warmer than it actually was but I was so glad to get rid of that brown thing I didn't care. The bonus was nobody asked me questions about it on the school bus and at least a few other kids wore a similar one.
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