By Donna (and Chelsey) Drysdale
My Summer of Love came one year early. It was June 1968. One month short of 19, I was transferring to UCLA with my high school sweetheart, after spending my freshman year with him at a far-away college. Our four-year relationship was at the age-appropriate tail end and needed no excuse to be over.
Back in California, I had to find somewhere to live for the summer. My mom had just moved to a small town in Colorado, and I definitely didn’t want to go there. I stayed for two weeks at my boyfriend’s family home in Upland. His mother worried about me living there and encouraged me to place an ad in the local paper for a room to rent.