Chapter 1

Summertime, 1965, La Mesa California. What could be better.

I had turned 15 in April and had just finished my freshman year at Grossmont High. I had enough lawn jobs to keep me in spending money but still have time to myself. My best friend Joey had to go to summer school 3 days a week but that still left two days plus the weekend to screw around.

It was a quieter time. The shrinks hadn't taken over the schools yet and convinced everyone that nobody was responsible for anything. A drive by was some high school seniors riding past in a convertible and mooning some girls walking home. The biggest crime in the neighborhood was when some kids would TP a house after the Friday night game. Helmets and kneepads were required for the wrestling team. If someone had been foolish enough to insist that they would be required by law if you wanted to ride a bike we would have laughed him out of school.

Joey and I both had 1000's of miles on our bikes and the worst that had happened was we had to brake hard a few times. Our bikes were our freedom. Of course, that would change down the road. For us, being 16 and having drivers licenses would mean the bikes would soon be forgotten. For society as a whole, the next 40 years would see a nation that was afraid to let a child walk alone a few blocks, much less ride a bike for miles. But in '65, it was nothing for us to get up at 4 in the morning, ride 20 miles to the beach, play all day and get back home at 10 or 11 at night. Or head the opposite direction to Julian or Ramona for the day.

Joey and I had been inseparable since he and his family moved next to us 11 years before. We were always in the same class, baseball team, scout troop, swimming class. If there was something to do, we did it together. The first year of high school I was number one on the cross country team and he was number two. With all our bike riding, each of us could run for days without getting tired. Last summer we both went through that crazy teenage growth spurt, so we were both tall and gangly. And we found that we were kind of heroes in our class without having to work too hard at it.

Joey wasn't the only person in my life. Mom and Dad had always been there. Dad worked for an electronics firm somewhere in San Diego. He wore a suit to work and did something in an office. I don't know what he did but he seemed to like it. He and I were never really close but got along OK.

Mom was always there for us. She never had a paying job (she and Dad got married out of high school), but she did a lot of volunteer work for the Scouts, PTA events, lots of stuff at church. She always made sure she was home when we got back from school so she could give us a snack. She could always find out what was bothering me even when I didn't want to tell her or hadn't figured out was wrong on my own. She had a way of getting information and making you feel happy you gave it up. I could get away with lying to Dad on occasion, but Mom could smell a lie a mile away. She wouldn't say anything, just sigh and look real sad. It just wasn't worth the guilt to try and pull anything over on her. And it wasn't just me - my little brother could never get away with anything either. Somehow my sister could, though. I never figured out how, but she could bluff her way out of just about any situation she got into with Mom. And she had Dad wrapped around her little finger and could play him like a puppet.

I'm not saying that my little sister was some kind of devil. But neither of us were little angels, either. She just had a way of getting away with stuff or lessening the blow on something. Or getting something she wanted with a bat of her eyelashes.

By the way - my name's Wesley, my sister's is Leslie. I was born April 23, 1950, Leslie was born January 23, 1951. That's right, nine months to the day. Mom and Dad always joked about Leslie being conceived in the hospital. They were the only ones who knew how much truth there was to that. Anyway, when Mom first saw Leslie, she said she looked like my twin and that's how she got her name. The two of us got sick of the "Wes & Les" jokes as soon as we could talk.

Our little brother was sort of a surprise when he came along. Mom said it had something to do with the overnight hospital stay she had a while before he was born. Anyway, Mom liked the name Jasper but it became Jaz before he could roll over in his crib. He was almost 6, had finished the first grade and was in a different world than Les and me.