Keeping it together while getting it sent
Lolita Harper
Roughing it would not even begin to describe the conditions our
troops are living in right now.
They are in the middle of the scorching hot desert, experiencing
severe sand storms, and have the luxury of showering once a week,
according to e-mails from 20-year-old Marine reservist Lance Cpl. Ian
Voss of Newport Beach.
Letters home to his mother, Marsha Steinbrenner, asked for the
most basic necessities, such as toilet paper, toothpaste and
toothbrushes, as well as “luxuries” such as chocolate.
“We are not supposed to send them chocolate because it melts, but
we are sending it anyway,” Steinbrenner said. “Even if they have to
lick it off the wrapper, at least they can get a taste.”
Steinbrenner had transformed her kitchen Friday afternoon into
care package central, with tiny bottles of eye drops, little jars of
peanut butter, miniature chocolate bars, small boxes of raisins,
toothbrushes, dental floss, Lifesavers, Tic Tacs, packs of gum, mini
radios -- you name it. If it came in a pint-size form, it was on her
counter top.
Holding up incredibly well for a mother of a service man on the
front lines of the war, Steinbrenner said she was determined to get
those boys what they needed.
“You would be surprised about what they are asking for,” she said.
She handed me an e-mail from the platoon’s official “military
mom.”
Troops needed baby wipes for personal hygiene for the six days
they are in hundred-degree weather without running water; and Kleenex
for sneezing attacks caused by the desert wind. Eye drops, waterless
hand sanitizer, floss, feminine hygiene products, throat lozenges and
foot powder were all high on the list.
Also on the list were suggestions from Gulf War veterans,
including flea collars, to be worn around the ankles to help with
sand fleas. “Civilian” sunscreen is also a big hit, as
military-issued sun block is about as thick as glue and makes the
sand stick to their faces.
And here I think I am deprived because I can’t afford to eat on a
regular basis. I complain because I can’t afford $100-highlights in
my hair, while people my age are melting in the desert sun. Here I am
“too busy” to write letters to my loved ones because I am running
around answering e-mails, returning pages and talking on my cell
phone, when our troops are begging for communication.
“They are desperate for letters,” Steinbrenner said. “Just
anything to let people know they are thinking about them. They just
want to hear thank you. They don’t want to wait 50 years for people
to recognize the sacrifices they made. They want to hear it now.”
On her counter were boxes of envelopes, dozens of pens and paper.
She is also sending newspaper clippings and magazines so her son can
have some connection to his homeland. Voss had been overseas since
Jan. 20, Steinbrenner said, and didn’t even know who had won the
Super Bowl.
“He’s been eating prepackaged meals since then, also,” she said.
In addition to mere survival items, Voss and his colleagues want
some luxuries such as teriyaki beef jerky (you can’t send pork to the
Middle East), photos from home, batteries, underwear and socks,
Frisbees, hacky sacks, decks of cards, Pop Tarts, homemade cookies
and other “munchies.”
“Ian said he was dying for a cigar, so I sent him one,” she said.
She is a woman on a mission and she plans to get these supplies to
her son and his platoon no matter what. She knows all the tricks to
make sure they get there.
Hence all the miniature supplies. If the boxes are too big, they
wont get sent, she said. Shoebox-sized packages are the best because
they are easy to move through.
All the mail goes to his base in Twenty-nine Palms, where it is
then loaded on military supply carriers. Obviously, things such as
ammunition and supplies have priority, so large boxes of homemade
brownies and the like are sure to get left behind.
Another trick of the trade is to pack efficiently. All the
extraneous packaging must go, to be able to fit the most in each
small box.
She spoke quickly and with purpose, as to bar the inevitable
wavering in her voice.
“It’s not about me. It’s about Ian and about all the wonderful,
wonderful people who have come together and shown support for this
effort,” she said, referring to the hundreds of dollars worth of
supplies she had received from area doctors, dentists, friends,
support groups, churches, etc.
Her words spoke the courage her son undoubtedly inherited.
But her red eyes told the truth.
* LOLITA HARPER writes columns Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays
and covers culture and the arts. She may be reached at (949) 574-4275
or by e-mail at lolita.harper@latimes.com.
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