You’re a lucky guy!
I got to live in LA for six months, when I was six years old. Santa Monica. I loved it. Walked to school and back every day, had to cross a few streets. No problem. Carried my little lunch box.
Everything in Los Angles seemed brand new, to my eye. I thought it was so beautiful. Sounds of jet planes were everywhere, it was like living in the future.
Long time ago. 1960, into 1961. Then we left, but I never forgot it.
My wife, literally the-girl-next-door, and I moved to LA in late ‘68 and quickly found an apt in Hollywood. We were so poor, our entertainment was walking Sunset or Hollywood Blvds and watch the people show - strange scenes for a a couple of kids from Ohio.
We spent many weekends at the beach, mostly Santa Monica (it was the closest) but got as far north as Oxnard/Malibu and south to Huntington.
Spent a few weekends in Vegas when the downtown was THE spot.
It was sunny & clean - unlike what it has devolved into the last 20 years.
The Manson murders occurred during that time and even without a TV it was THE hot topic everywhere you went...esp in our Hollywood neighborhood.
I still recall a Saturday afternoon we had our clock radio sitting atop the refrigerator listening to KHJ when the disk jockey was playing a new, unreleased double album. Before each track, he talked about the song and what was happening in the studio.
The disk jockey? George Harrison.
The record? Beatles “White” album.
Seems like yesterday....
btw, tell your cousin Steely Dan I said “Howdy”...
I first visited So Cal in 1970. Then again in 1986. Then again in 2017.
I like the 1970 version a lot better.