August 6, 1969
August 6, 1969, is not an unusual or historic date. This day unveiled as any pleasant LA summer's day, beginning with the sound and scent of coffee percolating on stoves throughout the canyons — Topanga and Benedict. A day like any other day in the 60s, where people awoke in their innocence, and so took it for granted. Sure, it was hot and steamy as August days are in LA, the Pacific Ocean waves at their warm and idyllic calm. Surfers would soon gear up to hit those frothy tubes with not a care in the world, beach goers luxuriating on the sand. The hours on August 6 would soon fly by. Dusk fell upon the land, giving all an amber glow. Peace had rolled in with the morning tide and would roll out the same. A dreamy California day. As far as anyone knew, there had been no gut-tearing hurt, no gushing blood, no torturous pain. No one yet feared bayonets, or cutlasses, or Buck knives, or nylon rope and leather thongs. So far, there was no need for such fear. The only concern in ...
