Neighbors Gather for Talk, Solace

Since the Gulf War began last Wednesday, the living room of Rachel Reyes has been transformed into a makeshift meeting hall for relatives and neighbors of several young men from La Verne Avenue who have been dispatched to the conflict.

There is nothing official about it. Visitors are welcome day and night, coffee and commiseration are served in equal abundance, and all conversation centers on one topic. Neighbors who might otherwise chat idly about the weather, local politics or even the Raiders’ loss to the Buffalo Bills instead discuss Scuds, smart bombs and Saddam Hussein.

The talk can get pretty tough. Maria Martinez, a petite woman from Mexico who speaks no English, was telling other women present Sunday night that she wanted to kill the Iraqi leader.

“I’d go over there and kill him,” she said to the roaring approval of the other mothers.

The laughter went on for only a moment. Then an uneasy silence enveloped the room.

Martha Cooper, a longtime La Verne resident, noted the uneasiness:

“Don’t worry,” she told the others. “The boys will come home. We’ll have a big block party when they come home.”

For the mothers of servicemen, the meetings clearly are therapeutic. They can be heard sharing thoughts that they would otherwise keep to themselves. Reyes revealed that she had dreamed that her son Timmy, a member of the elite Navy SEAL unit, kept his promise and safely returned home.

“In the dream,” she said, “he sneaks up behind me and put his dog tags around my neck.”

It was Reyes who suggested that La Verne residents form a support group to experience together the daily spurts of news bulletins from the gulf and the few letters and telephone calls from their sons overseas.

“We need each other at times like this,” said Reyes, who has not talked to her son since Christmas Day.

The neighborhood binding is not limited to the get-togethers. Each day, Reyes calls each of the La Verne mothers, offering to run an errand or passing along the latest televised update. Over the telephone, she was heard providing the location of stores that sell U.S. flags and yellow fabric for the ribbons that adorn many homes on La Verne.

The living room where Reyes holds court is a modest mini-shrine to Timmy, whose snapshots at play or in his Navy uniform dominate the room. A radio near the dining room table and a giant TV set in the corner blare out the latest news from Operation Desert Storm.

During the gathering, Martinez sat at the edge of the sofa, clutching a portrait of her son, William, a member of the 82nd Airborne Division, as she chatted with others.

“Meetings like this really help my mother,” Miguel Martinez said of his mother, who has a heart condition. “See, we have no family here. It’s just me, my mother and my sister. But we know the neighbors and they treat us just like family.”

Irene Chavez, whose 19-year-old son, John, begged her to allow him to join the Marines in August, tensed up as she heard the other mothers talk about the war.

“I talked to him this morning,” she said. “He’s in North Carolina right now but we’ll have to wait and see.”

“If it’s God’s will, he’ll be all right,” said Maria Martinez. “All we can do is pray and hope.”

Two sheriff’s deputies from the nearby East Los Angeles station stopped by to ask if the mothers had any more yellow ribbons; they wanted to hang them at the station in honor of a fellow deputy whose reserve unit has been called to active duty.

“Anything for our friends,” Reyes said.

The session began to break up shortly before 7 p.m. Reyes ordered each visitor to take home a piece of chocolate cake she had served. In true military fashion, each of the mothers complied without question.

Everyone promised to come back tomorrow.