Though we lived in a nice two story house, there was still something missing. When I was thirteen, I begged to have my folks take me for a ride up to the hills.

I forgot all about everyday life. The hurrying, and rushing of people below faded away as a mysterious thrill came over my body. As the sky got bluer, it felt as if I were winding back into a world of enchanting memories.

Once, I brought a city friend up to the hills. He thought it was neat, but that’s all. He didn’t feel the deep thrill that I experienced from being up there. I tried to explain, but he couldn’t understand because he hadn’t had a chance to see what I have seen. It was like asking a child to do a complicated algebra problem.

Now let me show you some of what I’ve seen. Come along with me to the lonely hills above La Habra. We will spin back into the misty past of the early 1940’s.