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1

L.A. back then

Yup, I was there, but a little earlier. Knott's Berry Farm seemed a world away from where I lived in L.A. and then later in Pasadena, but it was probably only about fifteen miles as the crow flies. We never did the movie lots or the wax museum, though.

Keep it coming, Gene--but where's the book to be made out of all this?

2

thanks

for a trip down memory lane. I grew up north of LA and regularly visited several of these sites. But you forgot Bob's Big Boy on Sunset Blvd. Judy.

3

Wonderful! and a blast from the past...

Thanks so much for posting this great time through memory lane. I was born in Sunny Southern California and remember the great times you described here growing up in the sixties. Another place that I totally dug too was the LaBrea Tar Pits. We had a field trip there when I was a kid and i thought that was so cool. THANKS for all these great memories. I live in Alabama now as I move away from So. Cal at the end of 1975 when i was 21? I miss those great times.

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4

California Dreamin'

While I was growing up in Michigan during the 50's and 60's, all our family vacations were pretty much north or east...with an annual trip to Lake Geneva, WI as far west as we ever got. I didn't mind, as we visited the 1964 World's Fair in New York and Expo 67 in Montreal among our many trips.

Dad, mom, and four boys (I being the eldest) packed into the vehicle of the day, towing a small trailer with all our camping gear in it, visiting 1/4 of the US quite thoroughly over the course of a decade. I don't know how my parents managed to stay (relatively) sane, but I'm still extremely grateful.

It wasn't until the early Seventies that my Beach Boys-inspired dreams came true, when a friend and I turned a trip to see his relatives in Phoenix into a 2 week excursion to the mythical land of Hopes and Dreams, Hippies, and Hollywood.

Disneyland was beyond the reach of our minuscule budget, which extended just far enough to include food (fruit pies from 7-11 made up a major food group), gasoline, and sleeping in the back of my buddy's El Camino, with the occasional night at a Motel 6 to catch up on "real" sleep.

We toured our personal dream locations:

Cruising Van Nuys Blvd; nearly deserted, with nary a muscle car or California bikini girl in sight, with the tape player blasting the Beach Boys.

Wandering the beach, with neither waves nor surfers to ride them anywhere to be found.

Driving up the coast on Highway 101, which was just as intensely beautiful as our dreams had imagined.

Visiting Big Sur and falling in love with the surroundings, even though we never saw any communes or their denizens, and finding the Esalen Institute locked away from prying eyes.

Wandering Haight-Ashbury a decade too late; seeing only the decline and despair, with few hippies to be found -- only an increasing number of those now living on the edge of society.

None of that mattered too much to us. We were grateful for the experience, and our dreams were still populated with the mystical figures we'd heard of, seen glimpses of on TV, and read about in newspapers (which still mattered in those halcyon days).

Once again, Gene, you've managed to ignite the banked flames of beloved memories. Thanks again, and keep scanning!
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Sanity is a relative concept.
If you don't believe me,
let me introduce my relatives.
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