INSPIRATION

SEMPER FIDELIS

sem·per fi·de·lis adjective 1. always faithful (the motto of the US Marine Corps) often abbreviated as Semper Fi

Since 2004 a battle has been waged on a quiet cul-de-sac in San Luis Obispo’s gated country club neighborhood. Every Tuesday morning, inside an unassuming ranch-style home resting under a sun-bleached red and gold Marine Corps flag, a beehive of activity takes place as twenty or so volunteers scramble to assemble care packages for members of the United States Armed Forces. Working feverishly and squeezing through tight hallways with oversized boxes, the volunteers are under the command of retired Marine and Korean War veteran, Si Tenenberg.

Equal parts Kris Kringle and John Wayne 79-year-old Tenenberg refers to those currently serving in harm’s way as “my boys.” In a clipped, no-nonsense-don’t-waste-my-time-I’ve-gotstuff-to-do manner, Tenenberg explains the rationale for his win-at-all-costs commitment to the troops. “As long as my boys are over there—boys and girls, I should say—we’ll keep doing it.” Now, nearing 11,000 care packages sent, Tenenberg and his team of volunteers have refined their operation down to what can only be described as military precision.

Central to Tenenberg’s strategy is his enlistment of six Central Coast Dollar Tree stores. At the checkout stand, customers are asked if they would like to donate items to the troops. Throughout the week, collection boxes fill up with everything from deodorant and toothpaste to batteries and protein bars. Tenenberg then picks up those boxes and returns them to his home where the volunteers sort items by category. “Si,” one of the volunteers shouts across the garage, “Should breath mints go with candy or toothpaste?” Tenenberg fires back, “Candy.” Our visit leads us into the house where a pool table has been commandeered by Marie Ducasse, an 84-year-old dynamo and former Red Cross nurse who has volunteered to assist soldiers in every armed conflict starting with World War II when she was part of the USO. “I always write a little note and collect letters from school children; the soldiers love it and it keeps their spirits up,” she reports. After visiting for a moment, she suddenly realizes that her station in the assembly line has fallen behind. “I’m really very sorry, but I have to get back to work.” Reaching down into one of the bins and picking up a can of chewing tobacco, Tenenberg bluntly states, “People say this is not good for them, but those people have never been in combat. My guys are on patrol out there and I need for them to be alert. The last thing we need is for someone to get careless and step on an I.E.D.” His comment brings things into perspective and illustrates his commitment to the cause. And, after sending the package he usually receives a thank you email from the recipient, but sometimes photos and other memorabilia come back, too. He once received an American flag, which is displayed proudly above the pool table. The first time Tenenberg sent a package, it was as much to unload some of his old paperback books as it was to help marines in Afghanistan pass the time. An email came back a few weeks later with a note that read: “Dear Mr. Tenenberg, I want to thank you for the books, but we’re in the Hindu Cush on the border of Pakistan. It’s 25 below zero outside. We’re cold and we’re hungry. Can you help us?” It turns out that old Louie L’Amour novels can only do so much when you’re pinned down on the

above Si Tenenberg ships care packages to American troops stationed in harm’s way

front lines of hostile territory, and as memories of those impossibly cold days on the Korean Peninsula came rushing back, Tenenberg set forth on a mission that continues to this day. “I don’t want to go through that again,” he shares as his demeanor shifts and his cadence slows.

Unfortunately, the contributions from Dollar Tree shoppers only go so far. And, it turns out that a $1 pair of socks isn’t what it used to be. Undaunted, Tenenberg has tapped his retirement account to make sure that those troops, “his boys,” in forward operating positions and elsewhere have top-of-the-line warm, dry socks. “Socks,” Tenenberg states flatly, “make all the difference.” And, as the worker bees swarm around him, crisscrossing paths through his house, there is a palpable sense of purpose with the mission. Although everyone is polite, nobody stops to talk for long. Even Tenenberg’s dog, Charlie, is careful to stay out of the way of production and seems to pick up on his owner’s thoughts, which are most accurately summed up with just two words: “Always faithful.”

SLO LIFE