Japan in the autumn of 1979 was to be THE make it or break it time of my young life. If you had told me that in June I would have laughed in your face or thought you mad.
The USS Blue Ridge had been slated for repairs that fall at the Long Beach Naval Shipyard but instead we got the word that the USS Oklahoma City was to be retired and so the US Navy picked us to be the new flagship for the US 7th Fleet. At the beginning of summer I had just finished up a great leave period in Ordway, Colorado and was aching to continue on with the experience. I had a pack of young friends there who had just finished high school and were anxious to join me and my shipmates in our new yard worker digs on the coast. At that time my shipmates and I were all pretty wild, very hardcore party animals and so I feel with a fair amount of certainty that had we stayed on in the states my life would have turned out much different than it did.
So, instead of a shared sordid den of iniquity in Long Beach, California, fate intervened and we were shipped overseas and by the end of September were home ported in Yokusuka, Japan. At that point in my life it was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I still had over two years left in my enlistment and was not at all certain what I wanted out of life. It was tough enough being young, sex crazed, rudderless and out and about in the world but even worse to be blind to your bad habits and not able to see where the hell you are going.
The USS Blue Ridge had been slated for repairs that fall at the Long Beach Naval Shipyard but instead we got the word that the USS Oklahoma City was to be retired and so the US Navy picked us to be the new flagship for the US 7th Fleet. At the beginning of summer I had just finished up a great leave period in Ordway, Colorado and was aching to continue on with the experience. I had a pack of young friends there who had just finished high school and were anxious to join me and my shipmates in our new yard worker digs on the coast. At that time my shipmates and I were all pretty wild, very hardcore party animals and so I feel with a fair amount of certainty that had we stayed on in the states my life would have turned out much different than it did.
So, instead of a shared sordid den of iniquity in Long Beach, California, fate intervened and we were shipped overseas and by the end of September were home ported in Yokusuka, Japan. At that point in my life it was probably the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I still had over two years left in my enlistment and was not at all certain what I wanted out of life. It was tough enough being young, sex crazed, rudderless and out and about in the world but even worse to be blind to your bad habits and not able to see where the hell you are going.
Now, Japan in the 70's was not without its vices. I was a young man hungry for those worldly vices and being in the fleet helped to compound that condition. This was the era of Jimmy Carter's Love Boat Navy. The Vietnam War was over, peace ruled and the land we had too much time on our hands. Drug use was rampant and trafficking flourished. Cannabis, hashish, LSD and other inebriants flowed and found a home both on and off the ship, which made for an awful lot of partying both in port and out at sea. Having access to old China hands from our soon to be retired sister flagship made the transition from stateside to overseas deployment easy. But having sailors across the pier who had easy access to Thai stick, Singapore opium and all sorts of other quality drugs made being in a new foreign port an even more interesting and profound experience.
All the same I knew deep in my heart of hearts that I needed something to help moderate my appetites, to bring me back to ground. As my mom put it to me in a letter from those wild, long ago days, I had a choice to either become an athlete or an alcoholic. So I made a choice and took on racquetball with a passion, embraced photography, sailing, soccer, weights and running in equal measure to help balance out the beer and saki that seemed to flow endlessly whenever we hit the Honshu district outside the gate. But most importantly I got lucky and met the woman who became my first wife and who changed the way the fleet impacted my life on a day to day basis. Now, I didn’t become a saint but knowing Z spared my soul and saved my naval career.
Z had landed in Japan a year before I did. When I met her she was a radioman petty officer 3rd class, a nice rarity for that side of the world. She worked in the very male dominant Yokosuka Naval Staion radio shack, a very top-secret affair, which always seemed to be haunted by spooks and other bad guys from the Ugly American era. Off duty she led a fairly quiet existence out in the economy and, luckily for me, had recently broken up with a guy who didn't match her needs. We met by chance at a leadership course where we exchanged pencils, then exchanged whatever it was that we needed to in order to connect outside of class. We started out shooting photos around the base then took our dating life on the road, expanding our territory to Yokohama, Tokyo, Kamakura and all points in and around the Kanagawa Prefecture.
In the end we shared a lovely house in Zushi Beach, a short walk from the sand. The house had an awesome view of Mt Fuji, tatami mats, rice paper screens and a Western style toilet. Our times in Japan were fabulous, tense and something neither one of us saw coming. We seemed to occupy a sort of dream world that had slices of both ancient Japan and contemporary sailor life all rolled up in it . The neighborhood we lived in was very traditional, old fashioned, on the slope of a hillside that had, in my eyes, plenty of room for a garden. I was rebuffed enough times to stop that endeavor and after a while we took up window box gardening, instead. We found that it was a pleasant way to use our balcony and spared us the grief of the locals.
Spring of 1980 we decided to plant some seeds from the batches of landrace grass I had brought home from the Philippines. It was always a case of feast or famine with dope and growing our own seemed like the logical solution. Even though our garden was up in the air three stories and shrouded in greenery secrecy was paramount. Due to our clearance status we were always cautious, always needing to stay one step ahead of not just one but three different law enforcement agencies: the Navy Investigative Service, the military police and most feared of all, the local Japanese police. We lived with the shadow of Z’s top secret clearance always hanging over her head as well as the fear and paranoia generated by the network of paid informers and snitches that always lurked about the base and community.
Nevertheless we had a lovely time there in Zushi Beach and waited patiently for our one surviving plant to grow. We thought of ourselves as green thumb Latinos but I was in and out of port too often to really shepherd our cannabis plantation and Z, in the end, was just a tad too paranoid to really ever let it out of the house and into the sun. So, in the end, with just leaves and stems to show for our efforts, we pulled up the plant and hung it in the storage room to dry. Of course it made the house smell fine, in my estimation, but we always worried whether or not the landlady would pop in and pick up on the scent.
We stored that grass away, thinking it was not going to be worth the bother but as we came to find out, it really was a case of any port in a storm. By the time Z was preparing to leave Japan for the states in 1981 we were down to just that paltry bag of dry grass and we were thankful for it, light weight buzz and all. The only negative to come out of that grow experience was when we broke it out at her going away party. To make things clear, it was one of the finest parties we ever threw and we threw a lot of great get togthers. By sundown the house was rocking, We had plenty of shipmates, neighbors and friends there, both Japanese and American, dancing, socializing, indulging in plenty of brew and Mexican food when someone asked me if we had any weed on hand to smoke.
Well, the only thing we had was that Zushi Beach Window Box so that was going to have to be good enough. And with the house full of weed hungry sailors, it certainly was. So we packed the upstairs bedroom with fifteen or more sailors and lit up. For a moment there we all felt happy and back in the states, sipping the green air of home grown weed. Even Z, in her perpetual state of paranoia, was happy…that is, until someone broke out their camera to record the moment.
The last thing a person with a top-secret clearance needs is a photo taken of her with a joint in her mouth. That room was cleared out in an instant, the camera corralled and the film confiscated. The party shut down so fast that shoes, backpacks and a whole lot of beer was left behind. Best of all nothing came of the top floor, top secret dope session. We all waited with bated breath to see if we had someone in the room who would blow more than smoke over that event and, in the end, nothing came to pass. It would have been a horrific bummer to have been brought down by the law over that mild to nothing high, but you know, if you got it you smoke it, even if it is just the leaves of Zushi Beach Window Box.
Salud!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zushi,_Kanagawa
The Okie Boat!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Oklahoma_City_(CL-91)
The USS Blue Ridge LCC-19!
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Blue_Ridge_(LCC-19)
Another slice of Zushi Beach life, twenty years later!
http://www.sarukoen.com/archives/zushi_life/
Nice opinion piece on Pinoy weed!
http://www.pacifiqa.com/opinion/philippine-guide-to-our-local-weed-marijuana/
An idea of what a slightly better grower of Pilipino dope can do with those damn seeds!
http://www.420magazine.com/forums/completed-journals/172273-first-time-grow-philippine-unknown-sativa-strain-100-natural-outdoor-grow.html
New exciting beach life in Zushi Beach!
https://straytravel.wordpress.com/2012/09/17/tokyo-beaches-zushi/
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