When I was 15 we moved from Chula Vista to Larkspur, and I met Ellen.

It was a huge relocation, from as south as California gets to the San Francisco Bay Area, from a three-year high school with a closed campus and a strict dress code to a four-year school where girls could wear pants, boys could grow beards, and seniors could leave any time. But Ellen and I would have appreciated each other no matter where we met.

We were soul friends. We were each bright and weird (great word – it means wayward – it used to have an umlaut over the i – there: now you’ll never misspell it). We each wanted to figure out the why of existence. Contrary to what some of our schoolmates whispered, we were neither and never gay. Contrary to what our parents asserted, we were neither of us under the influence of the other.

One of the many subjects about which Ellen and I agreed was adolescence. There were several occasions when we concluded that “no childhood would be complete without” an experience we then proceeded to obtain.

So we decided “no childhood would be complete without” shoplifting, and we managed to talk our way out of trouble when we got caught returning the items we’d taken from the sundry store in Tiburon. Then we agreed that, really, “no childhood would be complete without” an attempt to run away. We were not unhappy at home, but we made a dash on a bus for Berkeley one rainy night, got busted a few hours later and driven back to Marin County by Ellen’s boyfriend, and I think it was that adventure along with the Stinson beach overnight that motivated our parents to remove us from each other’s pernicious influence by sending us to separate dorms at Cal.

And yes, it was the understanding that “no childhood would be complete without” experiments with controlled substances that motivated Ellen and me to leave her room when I spent the night, swipe some of her father’s booze and her mother’s smokes, and range around Belvedere without anyone knowing our location. We didn’t enjoy the scotch and cigarettes, but we were responsible individuals; we agreed to do what was necessary.

It cracks me up when I watch grownups treating teenagers as if the kids had no idea what was happening to them. As if they were not self-conscious. Surreal…