In 1989, my mother and father were looking into buying a house. At the time I, my parents' third and last child, was almost two years-old. We were living in Montebello, my birthplace, which is in East Los Angeles. The housing was too costly in inner Los Angeles county, so my parents looked elsewhere. Through word of mouth we found the perfect new house in the city of Lancaster.

Lancaster is about 70 miles north of the city of Los Angeles, but resides in L.A. county. It rests in the Antelope Valley, which makes up the western tip of the Mojave High Desert. When most people think of a desert they picture an arid land in perpetual heat. However, because of the high elevation the Antelope Valley gets a couple inches of snow every winter. The temperatures reach up to 115 degrees Fahrenheit during the summer, but nice breezes throughout the day make it bearable. The abundance of the California golden poppy adds a beautiful orange shade to the seemingly endless desert background along the highway.

With the influx of families moving in from the big city, Lancaster was a good environment for a young child to grow up in. A very important aspect of the city's family life was sports. Near the freeway was a large park with several soccer fields. Every Saturday many families, including mine, used the park for a day of games with a national youth soccer league. Children from an age range of six to sixteen filled the lusciously green park in their colorful uniforms. It was a charming sight in the desert suburb.

I could reminisce about the wonderful environment that I lived in as a child, however, it was not all great. Demographically, Lancaster is diverse. The schools that I attended had an almost even mix of blacks, Hispanics, and Caucasians. At the elementary school level race was no issue. In the intermediate and senior high school crowd race caused many problems. Fights broke out often in some of the district's schools. Many of the fights were fueled by the students' gang involvement. By 1998, my family was ready to say goodbye to Lancaster.

My family enjoyed living in Lancaster, but when street gangs increased in number my parents felt it was best to move to a safer town. We packed our belongings in June of 1998 and made our new home in Clovis, a suburb of Fresno. I have visited Lancaster only a few times since departing, but it will always have a special meaning in my life. I am thankful for having spent my younger childhood in a unique and memorable city.