Dawna....

Dawna is my best friend. We met when we were in the 5th grade. We never went to grade school together, but we did go to High School together. Dawna was beautiful. She was everything I wasn't. She had beautiful, curly blonde hair, long straight legs, and she was thin. We did everything together. We were inseparable.

We were really into the Folk Singing of the '60's. We both had guitars and we sang together. We performed at many activities. Our signature song was, They Call the Wind Mariah. Dawna and I spent our summers together on the California beach. I wanted to be her, in that I thought she looked so good in a bikini. She wanted to be me because she thought I looked so good in a "bikini top."

Dawna and I were always looking for beautiful places to write songs or just talk. We found a little place on the hillside of a mountain that had just become a cemetery. No, we were not weird. We were just looking for a quiet beautiful place. Our place was called Conejo Mountain. It was absolutely beautiful over looking acres of orange trees. On a clear day, we could see all the way to the ocean. We spent hours in our little quiet cemetery. Often we laughed wondering if the people who were laid to rest enjoyed our singing. Dawna and I had no idea that this beautiful little cemetery would one day mean much more to us than just a beautiful, quiet place.

Dawna and I stayed very close to each other until we graduated high school. I become engaged to be married the day I graduated high school. Dawna became engaged one week later. She was married the last week in November, 1966. I was married the first week in December, 1966. She moved to Georgia. I settled down and started college. I had my first baby in 1969. A son, named Mark. She had a baby girl, Kirsten 2 years later.

I moved to San Juan Capistrano, CA. Dawna came back from Georgia and settled in Santa Paula, CA. One day in 1975, I received a frantic phone call from Dawna. She was so upset that she couldn't talk. Finally, I was able to make out, "Both my parents have been killed in an accident." Then she said, "I am having my parents buried on Conejo Mountain."

Three years later in 1978, I called Dawna from where I was living in Puerto Rico. I screamed into the phone, "Mark is dead." Then, I told her that we were bringing Mark home to California to be buried. I told Dawna that I wanted him buried on Conejo Mountain.

Within a few days, Dawna and I sat stunned at Marks funeral. In fact, although there were hundreds in attendance, Dawna's face is the only one I can really remember. Dawna's parents and my sweet Mark are only steps away from each other. They are together in the beautiful little cemetery that Dawna and I were drawn to when we were young.

We have discussed this over the years, wondering if we were drawn to this beautiful place for some reason? We both decided that we were. We both felt comfortable in the little cemetery. We always felt safe there, never afraid. Therefore, we felt comfortable and secure when it came time for Dawna to leave her parents, and for me to leave my Mark. Dawna's parents died when she was 27. Mark died when I was 30.

Dawna and I have shared so much. We have been best friends for over 50 years. I still think that she looks great in a bikini and she still thinks that I look great in a bikini top. Actually, I think we are both blind! We just love and accept each other for who we both are.

Dawna and Lana, we are connected at the hip and we share more than just friendship. We share a very special place on a lovely mountain over looking acres of orange trees. On a clear day, you can see all the way to the ocean.