The Army's Seaglass

The Army’s Sea Glass

The Army base had few redeeming qualities to the adults that lived there. The beach in the summer was one; the sledding hill in the winter was another. The final one was debatable between the mothers, some cursing the ravines for all the muddy clothes and gunk tracked into houses, other mothers thankful that it was as safe a place as any for children to play in.

Summer on the base meant almost daily trips to the beach, packed coolers, and sunscreen. The mothers took turns taking the kids, allowing for the necessities of running the house to get done. Except on Mondays, when the commissary was closed. Most mothers would pack up the brood; count heads and towels and bathing suits. Cover-ups were thrown over old bathing suits, and lawn chairs and a beach bag, which forever seemed to have sand in it, carrying several books – never just one. Several. Some to return to their former owners, the latest ones to pass to the next person on the list, and others were weather beaten favorites. The oldest children of each family always carried the cooler - one on each side, always complaining, forever grumbling that the other one intentionally bumped them with the cooler. The younger children were always in charge of the various toys to be used – the rafts, Frisbees, and floaties for the arms. And each child somewhere had a jar stashed, a marvelous jar where they would stash any treasure they came across, be is a small piece of drift wood or, more often, sea glass.

Sea glass never ceased to amaze the children. More than any seashell or driftwood, sea glass was treasured.

The July sun never cared that SPF 35 protected her ghostly skin. The waters of Lake Michigan never read the bottle of sunscreen that promised in bold letters, ‘Waterproof’. The red-haired girl didn’t care either, for she knew that there was little she could do to prevent her skin from sunburn other than stay inside all summer. And, at the moment, she did not care about the inevitability of sunburn. (She would tomorrow, but that was not today.) A day at the beach meant no cares and no worries. Only food, friends, and sea glass.

“Missa! Look at this one!” Her bestest friend, Nora, ran into the water, towards her, clutching something in her fist. “It’s blue!” Nora beamed.

“Blue sea glass?” Missa’s eyes went wide. Green was the most common, and brown was next. White sea glass was not uncommon, still not something to get excited over. Any other color, though, was rare. Missa once found a red one, and then searched for two days for another red piece, no matter how small, to give to Nora for her birthday. She eventually found one, but it was little more that a sliver. She kept it, and gave Nora her larger piece. “Can I see it?”

“Promise not to lose it?” Nora solemnly looked at her, as she clutched her hand with the treasure to her chest.

“Promise,” Missa put her hand over her heart, and said, even more solemnly, “I promise on the Mess Call and the taking down of the flag.” Both of which were everyday occurrences on the base, happening at 4 and 5, respectively, in the afternoon. More importantly to the girls, Mess Call meant they had two hours left of play, and the taking down of the flag meant they had to stop what they were doing and wait for the song to stop before being able to resume what they were doing.

Nora stretched out her arm, and opened her hand to reveal a large, irregularly triangular piece of deep, cobalt blue sea glass. The edges had long ago been made smooth by the sand and the waves of Lake Michigan, which made it all the more precious.

“Wow, and it’s from the bottom” Missa marvel at the beauty of the piece, picking it up and letting the sunlight filter through it. running a finger over the uneven thickness of the edges.

Nora looked at her and frowned. “I looked for another piece for you, but couldn’t find one.”

Missa handed the piece back. “It’s okay.” Missa looked back at her the spot her family picked, and saw her mom frantically waving. “Looks like it’s time for lunch. We’ll look after lunch.”

Nora smiled. Hunting for sea glass always turned up more when they both looked. Anything unusual went to the original finder, and the greens, browns and white were (usually) divided up with no problems.

Mrs. Murphey, mother of Nora and others, and Mrs. Johanson, mother of Marissa (called Missa) and others, always camped out on the beach next to each other. Their children’s ages all matched up, and trying to pry playmates away from each other long enough to eat lunch could sometimes be a problem. Very quickly, the mothers just made it easier on themselves and set up camp next to each other. More often than not at lunch, some of the Murphey kids preferred what Mrs. Johanson made, and some of the Johanson kids preferred what Mrs. Murphey made. Keeping track of which kid ate and which hadn’t was just easier in closer proximity. It also allowed a fast friendship to form between the two women, and both knew how important that was on the base, and in the military. Both knew, of course, that within a few years time, a new address would be penciled in a well-used address book. A few years later, the address would be erased and another one penciled in, perhaps even an overseas address. They both knew this would happen eventually, but choose not to think about it, but instead enjoyed having someone to complain with when the children did something wrong and another note came home from the school, or someone dependable to help welcome a new family or say good-bye to someone else. They both knew how lucky they were to find a good friend fast, and get to know them BEFORE the inevitable order to move.

More importantly, they knew how important it was to have someone else watching out for their children.

“Marissa Johanson, you’re starting to burn! Didn’t you put sunscreen on like your mother told you?” Mrs. Murphey asked as she handed Missa and Nora Capri-Suns.

Missa took the pouch and punctured in with the straw. Nora handed over her pouch, and watched, enviously, as Missa perfectly punctured it without the straw coming out the back.

“Mama, I helped her put sunscreen on. It just washed off in the water.” Nora took the pouch back from Missa, who winked and then smiled at her. Dodging blame from a mother was one of their favorite games.

Mrs. Johanson looked up and handed a turkey sandwich to Nora, “Well you two should come back more often to reapply.”

Nora grabbed a plate and put the sandwich on it, and grabbed a bag of Doritos her mother gave her. “We try to remember, honest.”

“Mom, didn’t you pack anything other than turkey?” Missa looked into cooler, trying to change the subject.

“Here, dear, would you rather a corned beef?” Mrs. Murphey pulled a sandwich out of the cooler, and Mrs. Johanson gave her daughter an apple.

A chorus of thank you's followed before the girls took their food and headed to a shadier spot, away from annoying older brothers and sisters. They divided up the Doritos and picked the lettuce off their sandwiches, and giggled about pranks they’d like to pull on annoying older siblings.

Lunch was quickly eaten and the girls, re-sunscreened after a glare from both moms, headed off to the shore each with a jar in hand. Soon, greens filled the bottom of the jars, with a few white ones mixed in. Both girls eventually added some brown ones, but tried not to add to many. Browns were common, and, in the humble opinion of the girls, ugly most of the time. An oddly shaped one made up for it being a brown, though. Their favorite pieces came from the bottom of the bottle, because that created more interesting shapes, even on browns a bottom piece was a cool find.

They kept looking for two hours, when finally, Nora came over and showed her a piece she just found. “For you.”

Missa stood up and took the piece. A bottom piece of cobalt blue rested in her hand. “Really? You mean it?”

Nora grinned. “It’s for my red piece.”

Missa fingered her piece of bottom blue. It had been years since she’d been here. Her family moved the following April to California, and Nora’s family ended up in Virginia. Eventually the families moved again due to her father’s retirement, and Missa’s family settled down in Milwaukee. And she lost track of Nora’s family, only knowing they ended up overseas in England.

Shortly after they moved back, the government shut down the Fort she grew up in. The golf course stayed open, and had been debated over for quite some time, finally ending up staying with the Fort, as the Fort underwent a transformation to an upscale area.

University had just finished for the summer, and she had the car. She told her parents she was going to head out to visit some old friends. She didn’t tell them they were memories that were 3 hours away. It didn’t matter too much to her. She’d fill up the gas tank and take it for an oil change and her dad wouldn’t care. She just felt a need to visit the beach again. University life had been more than a little unsettling, and this beach called to her. Memories of simpler times, before being bogged down with studying and trying to decide her whole life, and sea glass awaited her. She often thought of the beach on the Fort, and how much of her childhood seemed to have been spent there, and how short the time was in reality.

She pulled through the gate that marked the boundary of Fort. She passed the old guard’s station, and still expected there to be a guard to step out and salute her as she passed. It hadn’t dawned on her that there would be no need for a guard once the government closed down the base.

She took the soft left at the T-Junction to some street she knew by only sight, and by who used to live there (Mary Jo). She stopped to let a golf course cross the road to the 4th tee. The ravine to the left of the 4th tee had been a favorite of the kids to go golf ball hunting in the summer when they didn’t go to the beach. No one ever told their mothers that they were selling golf balls they found to the golfers. Missa smiled at the memory of scrambling up the undergrowth in the ravine to get a golf ball peeking out of the mud.

She came to a bend in the road by the golf house. She spied a young boy, about her age 10 years ago, with a muddy shirt and a bag of golf balls. She smiled and wondered if the 8th hole ball washer was still the best one.

She slowed down even more when she passed the sledding hill. There was a sharp bend in the road on the way to the beach that everyone slowed down for, unless you were new to the base. If that was the case, you announced that you were new by the squeal of brakes around the corner because you didn’t slow down before.

She came up the hill, and put her car in park. The beach was on the other side, just down another twist of road, but a barb-wired, chain-link fence was in her way. Getting out of the car, she strode over, and looked long and hard at the sign on the fence. Looking past, she saw Lake Michigan as she remembered it with white caps clearly visible from a distance, and the stormy gray water underneath. She had been tempted to climb the fence anyway, but a rational part of her mind told her all the sea glass in the world wasn’t worth her life, if the sign was to be believed. Not having any evidence to the contrary, she had to believe the sign was true.

She sighed, and headed back to the car, pausing only to read the sign one last time.

“Warning: Unexploded Devises Beyond This Point.
No Admittance.”

As she turned the car around and headed out, she wondered if shrapnel would make as great a treasure to the next generation as sea glass did to hers. “Must be the Army’s version of sea glass,” she thought aloud as she spied the boy selling golf balls and headed off to home.