fall break part 2: mining

Nick told me he found five pounds in an hour. I didn't believe him: I said "Nick, you're a liar." So I went out and found fifteen pounds in an hour. I came back and said "Nick, you're not a liar, you're a f--kin' slacker."
--Mike Beratta


The rifle range has been open since 1966 (I think) and until now no one has thought to mine it for lead. When kids shoot .22s they have to return the brass casings which are then exchanged for a couple bucks, but when the bullets hit the targets or the birm or the clays, we just leave them there.

Well, not anymore. Mike had over 100 pounds of lead by the time we got to camp, and he took us to the rifle range--about a half mile from the parade field--to mine some more.




During the summer, staffers from shooting and eco-con (when they teach astronomy) tell stories: the rifle range looks like a sandy crater, and gullible campers easily believe that a meteor landed there a few years ago. You have to go down a sandy hill to get to the blockhouse and shooting pavilion, then you shoot right into a sandy birm opposite. (I can't find "birm" in any dictionary, and I've never heard the word outside this context. The birm is the sandy wall you shoot into.) We went to the birm and Mike showed us the mine.

There was no ominous, clanky elevator descent inside the earth, no black lungs, no fog of soot--just a couple pig buckets, a shovel, and a wooden-framed screen.

We shoveled sand onto the screen and sieved it through, leaving rocks, clay pigeon fragments, sticks, marijuana, maple leaves, and bullets.




We did some sorting at the birm--removed anything big or alive. Everything else we dumped into a pig bucket.
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The orange shards are clay pigeon fragments. If you look closely, you can see bullets. Some are smashed; some are not.
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Mike drove us to the shop. During the summer, he gave us talks on limiting the amount of people on a golf cart, but all four of us piled on with our buckets of lead and rocks. Levi came with us.



Bob and Mike rinsed off the rocks and lead while Jason and I drove back to the range to drop off a pan of rocks. When Jason and I returned, we had a table of wet rocks and lead to sort.

It was a Kalkaska October evening, and by the time we were done, our hands were numb. I went to the shop bathroom to rinse off my hands, and Mike called to me over his shoulder:

"Make sure you put the seat back up when you're done."

I had already kicked it back up.
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We had a nice bucket of lead. I had to crouch down and push up with my legs to lift it.
Bob tried lifting it by the handle and it snapped and broke, spilling lead all over the shop floor.
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A handful or two of lead went into the ladle and we melted it with the gas torch. Tapping on the side of the ladle would bring any leftover dirt to the top: the lead, heavier, would sink. Within a couple minutes, we had a ladle of pure lead to pour into the molds.
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The round molds worked pretty well;
the army man molds had to be heated and sometimes they wouldn't work. I used Mike's pocket knife to trim an army man and ended up taking his arm off. We put the broken army men back into the ladle and melted them down again.

Then all that was left to do was trim the edges.

fall break part 1

THE PLAN:

Nathan from Hillsdale drives me to MSU on Wednesday. We get there about four. I hang out with Jacob until Jason is done with LCC class at 6. Jason picks me up at MSU, picks Bob up in Byron, and we drive up to camp. We stay there until Tony picks me up Friday afternoon.

THE EXECUTION:

Reunion

Nathan dropped me off at the bus stop at MSU and drove off before Jacob got there. I set my stuff on the bench and stood looking for him. Not 15 seconds had passed when I heard his voice: "behind you." I went to give him a hug and I was two feet off the ground, in his arms. I'd forgotten how strong he was (how?).

"It's so good to see another staff member," he told me, his smile so wide I thought it would break his face. I knew there were thrills of delight shooting through his body--he was in a Class B uniform and he hugged me without permission. He was giddy when he saw that I tautline-hitched my sleeping bag to my duffel bag with climbing rope.

I forgot how much I missed him.

MSU

The lounge in the student union was much quieter than Grewcock. We chatted for a bit, then I started talking to students about food safety for my "man on the street" story for my journalism class.

The first girl I talked to was a second-year grad student, and I wasn't at Hillsdale.

The second girl I talked to told me the FDA should do something to keep our food safe, and I definitely wasn't at Hillsdale.

We put my stuff up in Jacob's room--his dorm is larger than my sophomore class--and wandered around campus for a bit. Campus was beautiful. They allow--and even encourage--you to recycle. And I found this:


And as much as I whine about fancy-schmancy donor-schmoozing nonsense at Hillsdale, MSU's bathrooms were kind of gross and I'm glad ours are nice. But, Hillsdale, I can flush the toilet myself.

We got a phone call from Jason and he was on his way. We were going to meet him at the international center.

Reunion

I set my bag on the ground.

I used to tie my toes in knots to prevent myself from running across the room and tackle-hugging when I meet people I haven't seen in a while. I always thought it was annoying--probably because it's a very feminine way of greeting people--but I remember talking to Jason about it and he said he loves the tackle-hug reunion. I believed him. Jason loves women and is kind of a sucker for anything feminine. Few men are completely comfortable with telling any woman that she's beautiful; few men can do so without hitting on her or being creepy. Jason is one of those few.

He was wearing a gray hoodie and his staff hat (cover). He had his eyes down and he walked straight, stoically. It took me a bit to recognize him. And when I did he had two doors to go through and four steps to go up, so the tackle-hug thing didn't really work. I had to pause before going down the steps so I couldn't get enough momentum. I caught him about halfway up the steps, gave him a hug, and sort of walked him back down the steps.

Jacob told Jason to show us his pride and joy, and he pointed: "it's right there." It was beautiful.



Pizza and Ice Cream



Departure

Jacob carried my bag and he was thrilled to have something productive to do. We got my stuff loaded into Jason's car and it was time to go.

Jacob gave Jason a talk on taking care of me. "Watch her," he said.

"Just, not while I'm getting dressed," I added.

I gave Jacob a hug before I got into the car and when we let go I felt like my heart snagged on something came ripping out of my body.

I forgot how much I missed Jacob. I almost yelled after him when he walked away.

Drive

Jason is a good driver. I felt very safe in his car.

Reunion

We didn't have Bob's address, but we knew it was the blue house after the field in the outskirts of Byron. We tried calling him but he didn't get service.

We found his house, said hello, and loaded up his gear.

"You're bringing your rifle with you?" Jason asked.

"I always bring at least one gun with me when I go up north," Bob replied.

Jason looked at me. "I hope," he said.

I called Mike and he said we could crash in treehouses. We wouldn't be at camp until after midnight, and no one else was on camp.

Drive

I looked out the window and saw Cassiopeia--something I learned at camp this summer.

We stopped in Sterling for caffeine. Jason winced when we got out of the car.

"What's that smell?" he asked.

"Look." Bob pointed across the street.

Cows.

Arrival

Jason turned his brights on once we got on the dirt road. Leaves scattered the path--red leaves, I think--and a breeze brought a maple shower onto the car. I thought of a flower girl spreading petals across the aisle for the bride to walk on. It felt like: someone made this path for us and they were awaiting our arrival. We were late, but we were coming home, and someone was waiting for us.

I felt a hush as we drove past the twelve wooden signs on the way into camp: trustworthy. loyal. helpful. friendly. courteous. kind. obedient. cheerful. thrifty. brave. clean. reverent.

We drove around to treehouses 6 and 7. Bob and Jason set up in the Lizard Lounge; I slept across in Robin's Rainbow Room. Their cabiny smell surprised me. I never noticed it during the summer.

I was cold.

Happy to be home.

Morning
I woke up before the guys did and

Sometimes over Christmas I'll wake up early in the morning--just early enough to see the sun sparkle the innocent, fresh new snow that fell overnight. No one else is awake and I feel like this beauty was created just for me. And it makes me feel special and happy and giddy inside.

When I woke up that morning, alone in the treehouse, I felt the same. Everything was beautiful.


I walked around by the boathouse and OA dock then out to the burned area and Three Bs. Everything was delightfully beautiful, but my camera couldn't see much of it.





I knocked on the door of the Lizard Lounge around 10 a.m. We packed our things into Jason's van and we went over to Mike's house.

At Mike's House

Mike offered us instant oatmeal. None of us took the blueberry oatmeal, and he told us afterward he was hoping we would because he didn't like the blueberry.

We chatted.

He showed us the mines.

two men

I was sitting in AJ's before lunch tweaking a paper for Anglo-Saxon, and a friend stopped by to say hello. We chatted for a bit and, as so often happens here, the discussion turned from weekend plans to abstract concepts. Well, I thought it was abstract concepts, but the issue was more personal for him than I knew. It seemed like suddenly: "You don't understand how angry you just made me, Mary." His face turned a little red--an angry red but not a furious red--and he clammed up and wouldn't listen to anything I had to say, even my apologies. He walked off.

I thought I should feel bad about it, so I stared at the table for about thirty seconds. Then I realized that I wasn't upset at all--as far as I could tell it had been a friendly conversation the whole time. I shrugged and went back to my paper. (It was about 11:15 and the paper was sort of due at 2:30.)

Someone else walked up, and I'm not sure how to describe him without plastering his identity online. I don't know that I've talked to him enough to call him a friend, but we're friends on facebook. I have one class with him, but mostly when we talk, we talk business. I always got the feeling that he didn't like me much.

"Hey, Mary, do you know who that was?"

"Yeah, that was" and I told him my friend's name.

"Yeah, I know it was him, but is everything okay? I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it sounded kind of awkward."

I shrugged. "Yeah, he's one of my friends. I'll give him some time to cool off then I'll go apologize."

He gave a small laugh, a "heh-heh," one with two breaths. The first was nervous and the other relieved. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm okay." I nodded. He started to turn. "Thank you," I told him.

And that was that.

blues!

Amanda called me, excited that my story about skulking during the SAI ball was in the yearbook. Thrilled, I ran from the Collegian office in Grewcock to come see. We were sitting on a bench in front of the library flipping through Winona, when I glanced up and saw a Marine recruiter in his blues walking toward us.

Amanda and I looked at each other and laughed.

When he got closer, I looked at him and said hello.

He returned the greeting and continued walking passed us toward Grewcock.

I recognized him. He was the one with the blood stripe in AJ's.

I could go find him later, but what would I say to him? My standard line, "you should have worn your blues," wasn't going to work. But he was wearing his blues, and I couldn't pass this up.

We couldn't think of anything, and it was time to get back to my paper, so I walked back into Grewcock.

I ran back out to Amanda with an idea, but after telling her I realized it was a little weird.

I danced anyway. Called Jason (my Marine friend from camp).

"Hey Jason! Guess who's here today!"

"Bob?"

"No."

"Marine recruiters?"

"Yes. And guess what he's wearing?"

"Blues?"

"Yes!"

"Was I right?"

"Yes on one thing, no on the other."

"Let me guess. They look good and your clothes are still on?"

He was right.

Went back into Grewcock. And when I opened the door, the recruiter was there. There are two doors; we met between the doors. He stood aside and let me walk through first.

"Hello," I said.

"Hey, how's it going?" he said (not asked).

I reached for the other door handle.

"Wore my blues today," he said.

Giddy.

possibly the nerdiest moment of my life (thus far)

I was at adoration this evening and had a very profound thought but couldn't for the life of me figure out how to express it in English. I wish we had a dative of reference.

homecoming festivities

Sometimes your parents tell you not to do certain things, and they tell you why. And sometimes you assume that the reasons they give are a little exaggerated. Trying to convince you not to do it. But sometimes you find that what actually happens when you don't take their advice is about twenty times worse than anyone ever let on.

I've never seen anyone as drunk as I saw on Friday night.

Or heard, really. I woke up when my roommate came in, about 2 a.m., and I heard another friend say "Call me if anything happens, okay?" I sat up and asked my roommate what was going on. Someone on our hall was very, very drunk, she told me.

"Is she conscious?" I asked.

"She's in the bathroom retching now. Her sorority sisters brought her up."

A little bit later, I took my phone and went to the hallway, thinking: I don't want her to die of alcohol poisoning on my hall knowing I could have made a phone call. One of this girl's friends was in the hallway, and I talked to her. She said not to worry about alcohol poisoning. "She's throwing up, which is good. It'll get it out of her system." She and a couple other friends were there and planned to stay as long as they needed to. She said she'd been in the same situation before and she knew what to do. I asked if this was typical behavior of this girl or if she learned something that night, and it sounded like she had learned something.

I went back to my room.

"Up, up, up." (groan) "You need to sit up." ("I am sitting up.") "No you're not. Sit up. Drink some water." ("That requires movement.") "I don't care if it requires movement. Drink water." ("No. That water tastes bad. No wonder I'm throwing up.") "Drink some water."

She sounded miserable. I heard her say--not as slurred as I expected--how miserable she was. And her girl friends stayed with her the whole time.

I finally fell asleep sometime between three and four, but I wondered.

Most of my friends don't drink or don't drink much, and the ones that do don't do it around me. But what if they did?

I know I am willing to drive someone home (if I had access to a car) and willing to make as many phone calls as I need to to find a car if someone called me drunk.

I know I am fully prepared to tip over a table of shot glasses if someone's being stupid.

I know I am ready to call for help if someone passes out drunk.

But would I stay up all night with a profusely vomiting friend?

I hope I never have to. But I wonder.

a missing blood stripe

I'm done with my morning classes by eleven o'clock every day, and my afternoon classes don't start until 2 or 2:30. Usually I bring my work up to AJ's and work on it there--saves me another trip to my room, and I get to watch people. And I'm about 20 feet away from the table where military recruiters sit when they're on campus.

Before today, the Marines have been here twice and the Navy once. (I like Marine haircuts better.) Today my sister is here, and we went back to my room after lunch. I left the room around 1:40, ran to the EAR to print something out for my two o'clock class. Saw recruiters outside Grewcock.

Remembered that I had a letter for Justin (friend from camp, MRP2 in San Diego) in my backpack. Ran downstairs and slipped the envelope in the mail slot. Ran to the EAR to print out my article for class. Came back, thinking about what I was going to say to the recruiters (because, come on, I couldn't pass this up).

I thanked them for being there because it reminded me to send my letter to a friend in San Diego. They reacted in an utterly normal fashion--that was strange, but you're welcome.

"And, you guys should have worn your blues today," I said.

And walked away without making eye contact.

Thought it was strange that only one of them had a blood stripe on his pants.

Well, I went to class, then (with Anne) to pep band rehearsal, then to work on the Collegian cart, then to dinner. And as we were walking into dinner, I saw that the recruiters were still on campus. I wanted to ask the one why he didn't have a stripe, but, both recruiters were sitting down with a student, folder open on the table, having a serious conversation. I wasn't going to interrupt that. So Anne and I went to dinner, and after dinner picked up Collegians and sat down in AJ's, reading. Patient.

Amanda and Jeff stopped by. And we talked and laughed for a while. Jeff still hadn't find the girl he was looking for.

Finally, the recruiters stood up. Shook hands. The student walked away.

And I walked up.

"I have a friend in the Marines--two friends, actually, one of them's in San Diego right now. I'm curious, I saw you don't have a stripe on your pants. I'm wondering."

The one with the stripe said told me it's a blood stripe--which I knew and should have said--and told me something about rank that I didn't really pay attention to. I recognized him. He must have been here before.

I said okay, cool, and walked back to the table with my sister and friends.

The recruiters got their bags packed, picked up their covers (hats), put on their coats, and walked.

Past our table. They walked probably 5 feet from me.

I made eye contact with the Marine with the stripe. I waved. A shy wave.

He acknowledged it, then continued walking.

"Hey, you guys should have worn your blues," I called after them.

He turned.

Made a vowel, the sort of vowel that says "there's that obnoxious girl again." Or anyway, that's the way I heard it.

And left.

Our table was giddy.