You and your best friends on Planet Earth . . .for now.

It’s 1960 – You’re Almost A Teenager – You Almost Live In L.A. – You Have A Bad Case Of The Sads.

You and your best friends on Planet Earth . . .for now.

– KDEO – El Cajon/San Diego – July 13, 1960 –

Thick as thieves – womb-to-tomb – promised to be each others bridesmaids – promised to name your kids after each other – took a blood oath – promised you’d all get old together.

That’s the way that was. You were best friends. You never did anything without the other.

But then, your dad got that job at Hughes Aircraft he was trying to get and you were moving to Santa Monica. Maybe not another country or some other planet, but it might as well have been. Sure, you could write – you could even write every day. And could call – not every day, because you had to pay for it and your allowance wasn’t that big, at least until you got a job. So it wasn’t like you were never going to see or talk to each other again. But it wasn’t going to be the same. You wouldn’t share lunches anymore – nobody to hug and cry on.

You just graduated 6th grade and you were heading straight to Junior High and you weren’t going to know a soul when school started in September. You had plans – you don’t have plans now. You’re going to be alone and you’ve heard the kids in L.A. are mean – and girls are the worst.

You’re going to have to make new friends – the kids at your new school won’t know you and they probably won’t like you – nobody ever likes the new kid in school. And you have braces – and worrying about everything has made your face break out. Pimples everywhere. Maybe you’ll come down with something – maybe it’ll be contagious and they’ll have to put you in quarantine for years. Maybe you’ll die of sadness.

So there you are, staring out the living room window in your new house – listening to the tape your dad made of your favorite radio station. He’s trying to cheer you up. It makes you miss your friends even more.

A car pulls up the driveway next door. A family gets out – everybody is carrying grocery bags. Saturday shopping. A boy emerges from the backseat – he’s bored – he’s blonde – he wears a red Pendleton. You think he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

You scream – he looks in your direction. You dive on to the sofa. You are terrified to raise your head. Your heart is racing a thousand miles an hour. You giggle. He lives next door to you!

And your face is a mess – and the braces won’t come off for another six months.

You come to the realization turning thirteen is the worst possible age to be stuck in.

You wonder if he has a girlfriend.

And the tape you’re listening to is KDEO from El Cajon/San Diego from July 13, 1960.

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