Standing knee-deep in empty soda cans, beer bottles, and broken glass, I found myself exhausted to the point of collapse. Separating glass from plastic from aluminum in the middle of a dew-covered field was the last place I wanted to be early on a Sunday morning following a long weekend of marching and performing.

Annual fife and drum musters always meant that I could play the fife and enjoy time with long-distance friends. Musters provided a diversion from the mundane schedule of practices and performances across the Northeast; however, I always had to keep in mind the work in store for me and members of the Green Team during the close of every muster weekend. Each year we collected hundreds of recyclable cans and bottles to raise money. Volunteering as a member of the Green Team meant hours of separation, redemption, and general chaos.

Gloves may have protected our hands from cuts, but nothing prevented the warm, sticky beer and soda from coating our feet, legs, and arms. Separation continued for another hour; it consisted of not only separating the recyclables, but also removing the soaking wet trash and numerous shards of glass just waiting to slice someone’s fingers.

Eventually we divided into two groups. “You guys take the non-deposit bottles down the street to the liquor store to organize them, and our group will run down to the grocery store to start returning ours,” I said. Our group trucked bagged recyclables to the grocery store while the others took on the task of categorizing non-redeemable bottles by their distributors.

At the grocery store, we dumped bag after bag into grocery carts and created an assembly line. Carts moved into the redemption center, and recyclables were redeemed. As soon as one cart was emptied, it was replaced with another.

Returning the bottles seemed to take a millennium. We reached into the carts over and over, tediously jamming bottle after bottle into their designated machines. Every couple of minutes, a new problem presented itself; machines were full, malfunctioning, or unable to accept certain brands.

On more than a few occasions, we had to press the button for assistance. Every time, the cheerful young woman who came jokingly asked, “How may I assist you?” Rejects found a new home in the emptied bags we tied to the handle of each grocery cart in order to prevent further confusion. Persistence was the key to finishing the process. Many of the volunteers eventually had to leave or became too exhausted to continue.

As the last can was redeemed, I hurriedly counted the redemption slips. Our total rose higher and higher until I announced: $445! Everyone, including me, let out a sigh of relief.

Collectively, with determination and several hundred cans and bottles, we raised enough money to send at least one kid to Jr. Fife and Drum Camp. Knowing that six hours of work amounted to an opportunity for an underprivileged child to develop his or her musical ability was reward enough for the time, effort, and mess.