Several years before my Navy retirement, I was sent out to San Diego with the Seabees to work at the naval base. With the increased numbers of reservists, the active duty side had the manpower to augment community outreach programs. They are regarded as an important feather-in-the-cap for the Navy. We were sent up to National City to rehab the house and demolish the dilapidated garage of an elderly Japanese widow whose husband had been in the Navy.
Our Equipment Operators and Builders bore the brunt of most of the heavy construction - something they actually enjoy. The rest of us did the simple things like paint the house and rake the yard. Of course, such an operation had its other characters no less important. Our Navy public relations officer and his entourage of big shots monopolized the television cameras. We all thought, “Where did these guys come from?” At the end of the day a Mexican driver backed his old truck up to the garage to carry the rubbish away. There was nothing unusual about that except his final destination was not the land fill, but Tijuana to build houses. Talk about cultural shock.
Since my rate was Storekeeper First Class, I was in the group assigned to clean and rake the yard. Before long I noticed a couple of unusual things. First, there were all these strange flat stones scattered about the back yard. I thought it was like those Japanese gardens you hear about. Second, I noticed there was a small tree with lemons growing on it. I did not mention it, but there was also a strange smell where the stones were. It turned out not to be a Japanese garden. Under each of the stones she had laid to rest one of her many cats. The yard was almost wall-to-wall with stone markers. I guess it was her feline version of Arlington Cemetery.
Our assignment in National City took only a couple of days. Its cast and crew declared victory and moved on. I guess it was routine for them. Most of us from the Midwest thought California was a nice place to visit, but we wouldn’t want to live there. As for me, I still remember the Cat Lady, but I’ve never seen anything like that lemon tree.
