Put Your Head on My Shoulder: The Untold Summer of Paul Anka

Put Your Head on My Shoulder: The Untold Summer of Paul Anka isn’t about stardom. It’s about a boy, a girl, and the quiet in-between moments that never make the headlines—but live forever in the heart.

In this imagined story, we revisit the summer of 1958 through the eyes of a young Paul Anka—still unknown to the world, but already carrying melodies in his bones. Diana isn’t a muse—she’s a memory made real, the kind that leans in during a slow dance, whispers promises at the canal, and leaves with a kiss at the station.

Directed in spirit by Chris Columbus, this story captures the nostalgia of first love and the hush of goodbye. The song Put Your Head on My Shoulder becomes not a creation—but a recollection. A keepsake.

This is the summer Paul never talked about.
But maybe… it sang its way through him.

(Note: This is an imaginary conversation, a creative exploration of an idea, and not a real speech or event.) 

Scene 1: Soda Fountain Rules

FADE IN:

EXT. JOE’S SODA SHOP – OTTAWA – LATE AFTERNOON – SUMMER 1958

Golden sunlight spills over the modest street corner. A bicycle bell rings in the distance. The storefront of Joe’s Soda Shop glows with neon: “MALTS, SHAKES, SODA.”

INT. JOE’S SODA SHOP – CONTINUOUS

The place is bustling. Teens crowd the booths, laughter echoes against tiled walls. The jukebox plays “Book of Love” by The Monotones. Waitresses in pink uniforms glide past with trays of sundaes.

In the back corner booth, PAUL ANKA (17), skinny, dark-haired, a little too serious for his age, sits with a leather-bound notebook open in front of him. A half-melted vanilla shake sits untouched.

TONY (17), Paul’s fast-talking best friend, leans back in the booth, slurping a cherry Coke, eyebrows raised.

TONY
Still writing that mystery girl into your poems?

PAUL
They’re not poems.

TONY
(grins)
Sure. They’re… musical thoughts no one’s allowed to hear.

PAUL
Maybe I just don’t want to waste words on people who don’t get them.

TONY points subtly with his chin.

TONY
Well, maybe you should waste a few on her.

Enter DIANA (17), radiant in a seafoam green blouse and plaid skirt, books clutched to her chest. She heads toward a booth, but her friend calls out from outside—

FRIEND (O.S.)
Diana! My mom’s here — I’ll call you!

Diana sighs, scans for a seat. The soda shop is full… except for the spot across from Paul.

She walks over.

DIANA
Mind if I sit?

PAUL
(quickly closing his notebook)
No. I mean—yes. I mean… go ahead.

Diana slides into the booth. Her perfume is subtle, like summer flowers and library pages.

DIANA
You looked deep in thought. Or lost in space.

PAUL
Bit of both.

DIANA
What were you writing?

PAUL
(pauses)
A song, maybe.

DIANA
Is it about someone?

PAUL
(smiles faintly)
Not yet. Maybe it’s waiting for someone.

Tony raises his eyebrows and sips his drink with exaggerated slowness.

TONY
I’ll, uh… get us a refill. Or go to law school. One of the two.

Tony slips away.

DIANA
So, are you one of those boys who writes songs to impress girls?

PAUL
(honest)
No. I write them to understand what I’m feeling.

DIANA
That’s either the most honest or the smoothest thing I’ve ever heard.

PAUL
What about you? What do you do when you don’t have a seat?

DIANA
I steal someone else’s booth and order the biggest strawberry soda they have.

Waitress walks by.

DIANA (CONT’D)
Actually… can I get a strawberry soda, please?

WAITRESS
Coming right up, hon.

They watch the waitress disappear. Silence stretches—soft and sweet.

DIANA
You know, we’re in the same math class. You sit near the window and chew on your pencil when you’re stuck.

PAUL
And you answer the teacher’s questions before she finishes asking them.

DIANA
Guilty.

The soda arrives. Two straws.

DIANA
You don’t mind sharing, do you?

PAUL
Not if you don’t.

They both sip at the same time. Sweet and fizzy.

DIANA
I always thought you were too cool for this place.

PAUL
I thought you were too smart for this town.

DIANA
(softly)
Maybe we’re both right. Or both wrong.

DIANA (CONT’D)
So, what’s your song really about?

PAUL
It’s about what it feels like to want to say something… but not knowing if you should.

DIANA
Maybe you should just say it.

PAUL
What if the right words don’t come?

DIANA
Then just be quiet. Sometimes silence says everything.

A bell rings as someone exits. Light falls across Diana’s face in stripes.

DIANA
I should probably go. My dad hates when I’m late for dinner.

PAUL
Will you come here again?

DIANA
Maybe. If you promise not to write about me.

PAUL
No promises.

She smiles, grabs her books, and slides out.

DIANA
Bye, Paul.

PAUL
Bye, Diana.

She walks out. The bell jingles. Paul watches her, then slowly reopens his notebook.

He writes:

Put your head…

EXT. JOE’S SODA SHOP – CONTINUOUS

Outside, Diana pauses. The sun’s lower now. She looks back through the window. Paul lifts his eyes and meets her gaze. She smiles, gives a small wave. He nods.

PAUL (V.O.)
Sometimes you meet someone who just… stops time.
And sometimes, if you’re lucky, they let you borrow a little of theirs.

INT. JOE’S SODA SHOP – LATER

Tony returns with refills.

TONY
Okay. What did I miss?

PAUL
A strawberry soda, shared. And a conversation I didn’t mess up.

TONY
That’s a first.

TONY (CONT’D)
Just don’t write a song called “Soda Shop Girl.”

PAUL
I wasn’t planning to.

TONY
Good. Make it something they remember.

Paul stares at his notebook.

PAUL
I think I just might.

TONY
You got it bad, my friend.

PAUL
She makes the world quieter.

The jukebox flips. Frankie Avalon plays. Tony grimaces.

TONY
Okay, I’m changing that.

Paul watches sunlight flicker in his glass. Kids laugh. A little boy runs in for ice cream.

TONY (returning)
Buddy Holly’s on now. Saved the day.

PAUL
She said she might come back.

TONY
Then be here when she does.

WAITRESS (O.S.)
You boys gonna order anything that doesn’t melt?

They laugh. Paul takes a sip of his shake.

He writes again:
Put your head on my shoulder…

PAUL (V.O.)
Maybe the best lines don’t come from the heart.
Maybe they come from the shoulder.

EXT. BANK STREET – EVENING

Diana walks home alone, bag swinging. She hums something unspoken. She touches her shoulder, gently.

FADE OUT.

Scene 2: Trouble at Rehearsal

FADE IN:

INT. HIGH SCHOOL AUDITORIUM – AFTERNOON – LATE MAY 1958

Rows of empty folding chairs face a modest wooden stage. A dusty spotlight flickers overhead. The faint smell of floor polish hangs in the air.

On stage, the SCHOOL CHOIR—nervous teens in white shirts and black slacks—rehearses. A PIANIST plunks out notes with mild frustration.

MISS COOPER (40s), the warm but strict choir teacher, claps twice.

MISS COOPER
Tempo! Let’s not lose rhythm halfway through the verse.
Paul—again from the top of the bridge.

PAUL ANKA (17), center stage, grips his sheet music and clears his throat.

The pianist begins. Paul opens his mouth—and his voice cracks.

Laughter ripples through the group. Paul turns red. He glances toward DIANA (17) in the back row. She gives a small, supportive smile.

MISS COOPER
Alright. It happens. Again—this time, breathe.

They restart. Paul sings again—better, but unsure.

Then Diana steps forward, joins in with harmony, and fills the gaps he left. Their voices blend beautifully. Everyone goes silent.

MISS COOPER
That’s it. Support each other.

Paul glances sideways.

PAUL
Thanks… for not letting me drown.

DIANA
You were gonna sink. I tossed a rope.

MISS COOPER (O.S.)
Pair up! Sopranos and tenors to the piano room!

Students scatter. Paul climbs off stage. Diana follows.

DIANA
You okay?

PAUL
Yeah. Some days the music works. Some days it eats you alive.

DIANA
You ever think about not doing music?

PAUL
All the time.

DIANA
And?

PAUL
Then I think about how bad I’d feel if I quit before I figured out why it matters to me.

They walk together down an empty side hallway, footsteps echoing.

DIANA
My parents might move to Toronto this summer.

PAUL
What?

DIANA
Dad got a new job offer. It’s not confirmed, but… it’s close.

Long silence.

PAUL
So this—us being here—might not happen again?

DIANA
That’s what I’m trying to figure out. What do you do with a connection if there’s no place for it to land?

PAUL
You write it down. Or you hold it until it finds you again.

DIANA
That sounds like something a songwriter would say.

She leans her head against the metal door. Eyes closed.

DIANA (softly)
I’m scared to go.

PAUL
I’m scared you will.

Their hands almost touch, but don’t.

INT. AUDITORIUM BACK HALLWAY – CONTINUOUS

They stand near a bulletin board covered in flyers: Spring Talent Show, Join Yearbook, Drama Tryouts. A fan hums.

DIANA
You ever sing something so much it stops meaning anything?

PAUL
Yeah. Sometimes I forget why I started.

DIANA
That’s how Ottawa feels. Same streets, same people. Like I’m stuck in a verse with no chorus.

PAUL
Maybe we haven’t heard the right bridge yet.

She laughs.

DIANA
Was that a metaphor?

PAUL
I warned you—I’m a songwriter.

They share a smile.

INT. MUSIC ROOM – MOMENTS LATER

Smells like chalk dust and paper. Students sit in pairs at upright pianos. Paul and Diana take the back bench with a duet book.

DIANA
You’re actually kind of shy.

PAUL
Too many thoughts. Not enough room to say them out loud.

DIANA
So say them in a song.

PAUL
The good ones only come from real moments.

DIANA
Well, you’ve got one today.

She taps a few soft notes. Paul leans gently into her shoulder.

DIANA (CONT’D)
What if this is our only real moment?

PAUL
Then we make it count.

INT. EMPTY CLASSROOM – AFTER SCHOOL

Paul stands by the chalkboard. Diana sits on a desk, legs swinging.

DIANA
I’m supposed to help Mom pack this weekend. She already boxed up my books.

PAUL
That feels permanent.

DIANA
I hate it. I know it’s supposed to be exciting, but it’s not. Not yet.

PAUL
Told anyone?

DIANA
Just you.

She walks to the window. Kids pile into buses across the lawn.

DIANA (CONT’D)
Ever feel like just when something good starts—life yanks it away?

PAUL
Yeah.

He steps closer.

PAUL (CONT’D)
But endings don’t erase beginnings. They remind us they mattered.

DIANA
You say things like that and make it harder to leave.

She looks at him longer this time.

DIANA (CONT’D)
What if I don’t want to just be a memory?

PAUL
Then don’t be.

She takes a breath and reaches for his hand.

DIANA
Can I ask you something weird?

PAUL
Weird is my love language.

DIANA
If I said I was scared to like you too much… would you run?

PAUL
No. I’d stay until you weren’t scared anymore.

She wipes a tear quickly.

DIANA
I’m not crying. Just… leaky.

PAUL
Happens to the best of us.

They sit on the floor, backs to the wall.

DIANA
You think people really remember each other? Years later?

PAUL
If they made your heart skip, yeah.

She gently rests her head on his shoulder.

DIANA
I hope you make it in music, Paul.

PAUL
I hope you find a place that feels like home.

DIANA
Maybe I already did. Just… too late.

FADE OUT.

Scene 3: The Bike Ride

FADE IN:

EXT. RIDEAU CANAL – EARLY EVENING – LATE MAY 1958

A breeze rustles the trees. The sun paints the canal gold. Ducks drift lazily across the water. The sound of bicycle spokes clicking fills the air.

PAUL rides ahead on a rickety blue bike. His sleeves rolled up, tie hanging loose. He glances behind him and calls out.

PAUL
You keeping up?

DIANA, riding a red Schwinn with a basket full of books, pulls alongside him, a grin stretching across her face.

DIANA
I’m pacing myself. You’re the one who looks like he’s racing destiny.

PAUL
Maybe I am.

They pedal in sync. The road curves into a shady clearing. Paul slows and hops off. Diana follows.

EXT. CANAL CLEARING – CONTINUOUS

They park the bikes beneath a willow. The canal sparkles beside them.

PAUL
I haven’t done this in years.

DIANA
What, stopped pedaling?

PAUL
No—just… took time to be somewhere.

She lays back on the grass, arms behind her head. Paul sits beside her, knees bent.

DIANA
You ever feel like you’re in a moment you’ll remember before it even ends?

PAUL
Only once before. And that was when I saw you singing backup during that Christmas recital.

DIANA
I was flat the entire song.

PAUL
Didn’t matter.

She turns her head toward him, thoughtful.

DIANA
You’re good at that, you know. Making people feel like they matter.

PAUL
That’s only because I know what it’s like not to.

A pause. A bird whistles in the distance.

DIANA
My brother says love at our age isn’t real. He says it’s all just hormones and moonlight.

PAUL
Then I guess I like my hormones and moonlight. Especially when they’re this quiet.

DIANA
You always this poetic?

PAUL
Only around you.

EXT. UNDER THE WILLOW TREE – MOMENTS LATER

They lie side-by-side, looking up at the branches swaying gently overhead.

DIANA
You think you’ll ever write about me?

PAUL
Already have. You just haven’t heard it yet.

DIANA
Promise it’s not about my bad math grades?

PAUL
Nope. It’s about the way you lean in when you laugh. And how you look when you’re not trying to look like anything.

She’s quiet. Then—

DIANA
I wish this didn’t feel like a goodbye already.

PAUL
It doesn’t have to be.

DIANA
But it might be.

She gently rests her head on his shoulder. He doesn’t move.

The world narrows to birdsong and breath.

EXT. BIKE PATH – SUNSET

They ride back slowly. No words. Just the rhythm of wheels and shadows growing longer.

EXT. OUTSIDE DIANA’S HOUSE – LATER

They stop in front of her gate. Porch light flickers on. She gets off the bike and stands close to him.

DIANA
This was my favorite day in a long time.

PAUL
Mine too.

She leans in and kisses his cheek. It lingers just a second longer than expected.

DIANA
See you at school?

PAUL
I’ll be counting minutes.

She walks up the path. At the door, she turns around.

DIANA
Hey, Paul?

PAUL
Yeah?

DIANA
If you ever write about today… don’t forget the breeze.

PAUL
I never forget the breeze.

She smiles. Then disappears into the house.

Paul rides away slowly, one hand trailing in the wind.

FADE OUT.

Scene 4: Prom Night

FADE IN:

INT. HIGH SCHOOL GYM – NIGHT – EARLY JUNE 1958

A banner reads: “Spring Formal – A Night to Remember.” Paper lanterns sway overhead. Streamers hang like vines. The lights are low, and the gym smells of perfume, floor wax, and punch.

Couples in suits and dresses sway to the sound of a live student band playing a slow tune.

PAUL, in a dark suit and skinny tie, stands near the punch bowl, nervously sipping from a cup. He scans the room.

TONY, adjusting his oversized bow tie, sidles up beside him.

TONY
You look like you’re auditioning for a heartbreak.

PAUL
What if she doesn’t show?

TONY
She will. You’re the only guy who makes her laugh without tripping over himself.

PAUL
Not tonight.

Tony elbows him and points.

Across the gym, DIANA walks in, wearing a pale yellow dress that floats like sunlight. She scans the crowd—then sees Paul.

Their eyes lock.

The music fades into soft background noise.

INT. GYM – MOMENTS LATER

They meet in the middle of the floor. Neither speaks.

PAUL
You look…

DIANA
Don’t say “beautiful.” Everyone says that.

PAUL
Then I’ll say… you look like a memory I haven’t lived yet.

She smiles—genuinely, shyly.

DIANA
That’s even worse. Dance with me before you make me cry.

He offers his hand.

INT. DANCE FLOOR – CONTINUOUS

They move into the slow rhythm. Other couples swirl around them, but Paul and Diana seem to float in their own quiet orbit.

Her head slowly leans against his shoulder.

DIANA
You always feel like this?

PAUL
Only when you’re close enough to hear my heartbeat.

DIANA
Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.

A beat.

PAUL
I used to sing to my bedroom mirror. Pretending it was a girl who’d never leave.

She tilts her head, her cheek still on his shoulder.

DIANA
I hope I’m not the mirror.

PAUL
You’re the song.

They continue dancing. Diana closes her eyes.

DIANA
I don’t want to think about next week.

PAUL
Then let’s stay here. Just now. Just this.

DIANA
My feet hurt. I don’t care.

He chuckles softly.

The music fades into another slow song.

They don’t move.

INT. BLEACHERS – LATER THAT NIGHT

Paul and Diana sit side-by-side in the shadows, watching others dance. Her shoes are off, her hair slightly undone.

DIANA
Do you think anyone really knows what they’re doing at seventeen?

PAUL
Maybe not. But I think we know what matters.

She turns to him.

DIANA
And what matters tonight?

PAUL
You.
Me.
This.
The music.
And that weird kid who spiked the punch.

They both laugh. It turns into a kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled.

She reaches for his hand.

DIANA
If this was the last dance of my life… I’d be okay with it.

PAUL
It won’t be.

DIANA
But if it were… thank you for making it feel like forever.

They look out across the glowing gym. It feels far away now. Just lights. Just noise.

Right here, right now—it’s just them.

EXT. SCHOOL PARKING LOT – LATER

The night is cooler. They walk slowly toward the streetlights. Crickets chirp.

PAUL
You think they’ll remember this night?

DIANA
They’ll remember their dresses. Their dates.
But we’ll remember this.

She leans in—closer, slower—and kisses him.

Not dramatic.

Not rushed.

Just… true.

INT. PAUL’S BEDROOM – NIGHT

Later. Paul sits at his desk, bowtie undone. The prom picture in his hands.

He opens his notebook.

He writes:

“Put your head on my shoulder...”

Then closes the book. Smiles.

FADE OUT.

Scene 5: The Goodbye at the Train Station

FADE IN:

EXT. OTTAWA TRAIN STATION – EARLY MORNING – MID JUNE 1958

Mist clings to the tracks. A loudspeaker crackles overhead. Porters shuffle luggage. Steam rolls across the platform like a curtain hiding what’s coming.

A silver train idles on the tracks, its windows glowing softly.

PAUL, in a dress shirt and jacket, runs into view, breath visible in the morning chill. He looks around, scanning the station.

And there—near Track 2—stands DIANA, suitcase beside her, cardigan pulled tight.

She sees him. Tries to smile.

He walks slowly toward her.

EXT. PLATFORM – CONTINUOUS

They stand face to face. Neither says anything.

DIANA
You didn’t have to come.

PAUL
I didn’t know how not to.

DIANA
We leave in fifteen minutes.

A beat.

PAUL
I thought I had more time.

DIANA
So did I.

He glances down at her suitcase. Her initials are embroidered on the handle.

PAUL
I kept thinking... maybe you’d stay.

DIANA
I kept hoping… maybe you’d ask me not to.

Silence. A train whistle sounds in the distance.

PAUL
Would you have listened?

She doesn’t answer. Instead, she steps forward, wraps her arms around him. Her head rests gently on his shoulder.

They stand there, frozen in each other.

DIANA (muffled)
I don’t want to forget how this feels.

PAUL
Then don’t. Write it down. Say it out loud. Or… keep it here.

He gently presses his hand to her shoulder.

EXT. PLATFORM BENCH – MINUTES LATER

They sit side by side. He hands her a folded piece of paper.

PAUL
I wrote something. It’s not finished, but…
It started with you.

She opens it. Smiles softly.

DIANA
“Put your head on my shoulder…”

She looks up.

DIANA (CONT’D)
That’s us, isn’t it?

PAUL
It always will be.

EXT. TRAIN DOORS – FINAL CALL

The conductor shouts. Doors begin to close. Passengers climb aboard.

DIANA
I don’t want to go.

PAUL
Then don’t say goodbye. Just say “I’ll remember.”

Tears form in her eyes. She kisses his cheek—soft, warm, lingering—and steps back.

DIANA
I’ll remember.

She boards the train. He watches through the window as she takes her seat.

She places her hand on the glass. He mirrors it from the other side.

The train lurches forward.

He walks alongside until he can’t anymore.

Then stops.

And smiles.

INT. PAUL’S ROOM – LATER THAT DAY

Paul sits at his desk. The window’s open. A breeze flows in.

He opens his notebook.

And writes the rest.

MUSIC BEGINS: “Put Your Head on My Shoulder” — Instrumental.

FADE TO BLACK.

TEXT ON SCREEN:
Inspired by a moment that lasted forever.

Closing Reflection:

Before the spotlight, before the stages, before the music—there was Diana.

Put Your Head on My Shoulder: The Untold Summer of Paul Anka reminds us that some of life’s most defining moments happen offstage. In the pause before a goodbye. In the quiet rhythm of a bike ride. In a slow dance that makes the whole world fade.

Paul and Diana’s story may be imagined, but its truth is universal:
Love doesn’t always need forever. Sometimes it just needs one perfect summer—and the courage to remember it.

If you’ve ever had a shoulder moment…
this one’s for you.

Short Bios:

Paul Anka (17)

A sensitive, introspective teenager from Ottawa with a natural gift for melody and a heart full of questions. Quiet in crowds but expressive in notebooks, Paul is on the edge of discovering who he is—through both music and love. His summer with Diana shapes not only his future but also the way he understands connection.

Diana (17)

Smart, warm, and quietly brave, Diana is the kind of girl who feels everything deeply but rarely shows it. Caught between family obligations and her own desires, she finds a rare sense of belonging in Paul. She’s observant, quick-witted, and the kind of presence that lingers long after she’s gone.

Tony (17)

Paul’s loyal best friend and comic relief. Outgoing, funny, and a little messy, Tony’s the one who keeps Paul grounded while also pushing him out of his shell. He doesn’t always understand Paul’s poetic side, but he respects it—and always has his back.

Miss Cooper (40s)

The high school music teacher with a tough exterior and a soft heart. She sees Paul’s potential and gently challenges him to rise above self-doubt. A quiet supporter of young talent who believes music should mean something personal.

Mr. Jacobs (50s)

The owner of Joe’s Soda Shop. Kind, observant, and wise in his own way, Mr. Jacobs serves up more than milkshakes—he offers the kind of life advice that sticks. A silent witness to many of the town’s growing pains.