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 [email protected].