Personal Narrative: Why I Love San Jose

It was April of 1999. My family was at home. Children were running outside. The asphalt was burning. Cars rolled up to the entrance of the apartments and BANG. I grew up in Stockton, California. Surprisingly, as a minority, I wasn’t really a minority. There were, in fact, a large and diverse population of Asian-Americans. But, Stockton is not the ideal place to live. It was hot and dry, almost to the point of a drought. Stockton was also ranked as the one of the top 5 most dangerous cities in California. So, having a nice and safe family is kind of difficult. Eventually, my family decided to move to Crescent City, California when my dad retired. It was a world of difference. There were trees, plentiful water, and a nice cool temperature. This

Freshly cut grass with a large diamond of dirt and the bottom surrounded by many bleachers. Fans packed outside waiting for the gates to be opened. And then there is a click, stadium workers open the gates and fans rush in with their hats, jerseys, posters, and more. The seats soon fill and the empty stadium turns into a packed one. The same happens everyday during baseball season at AT&T Park the home of the San Francisco Giants. For most this wasn’t their first time going to a baseball game but for me it was.

San Luis, Colorado is the oldest town in Colorado. The Rio Culebra winds through the valley, surrounded by majestic mountains. It is one of the most beautiful scenes I have ever seen. My family along with many others have been here for generations. The beauty of the land is only accentuated by the beauty of our tight-knit families and culture. To counteract of all the physical and cultural beauty, there is social and economic strife everywhere around me. I live in the poorest county in Colorado and being impoverished is a challenge my community faces because of a lack of education and job deficit. As I have delved into community and family history, I have better understanding that the fact the that while many things like our support and love for family and culture have remain unchanged and untainted, so has the fact that our community struggles

I'm an established freelance writer based in San Diego covering environmental issues in the Southland and beyond. Although it's hard for me to

I was born in Modesto ,CA on August 17, 2003 in Modesto hospital . I lived in Atwater ,CA most of my life ,but then I moved to Merced this year. Places that I have visited that feel like home is Watsonville and Santa Cruz. I have been in the same school for 8 years . Also, I have had a separate year in preschool. When I was in preschool I went to a school near Winton ,CA. During my magical 8 years I stayed in Bellevue since kindergarden through 8th grade.

The United States has always been “home” to me because I feel that I am a bit of the quintessential American story. I was born to immigrants hoping for a better opportunity than what was offered from their third world home country. I was raised and went to school here, which blended many of my parent’s home culture and the new American culture. As I have matured, I have noticed how much my life has been influenced by society’s opportunities and issues. The American character is the crossroads of opportunity, struggle, and hopefulness because the it is not only a reflection of the founding father’s ideas, but also a reflection of minorities who have interjected their experiences that shaped my American journey.

I have lived in two distinct communities: the first was the town of Moraga, the second, is the city of Stockton. The former is the epitome of white picket fence suburbia, with friendly neighbors, a high ranking public school system, and a non-existent crime rate. Growing up in Moraga, I was able to receive a great education, roam around freely, and never feared horrors such as gang shootings and drug abuse. Sadly, when I moved to the latter, most of these horrors were apparent weekly.

Jon and his friend were with their families on a trip to Salt Lake City. They were starting in Salt Lake City, but were going to go south all over Utah. As their families went through Salt Lake City, they were going to visit Great Salt Lake.

Growing up in Southern California, I was surrounded by coastal culture, which has influenced me in many ways. No matter whether I lived in San Diego or Ventura county, I was never more than ten minutes away from the beach. Every weekend, it seemed, my dad would take us to the beach as family so we could play in the water, build sandcastles, catch hermit crabs, see the tide pools, and most of all, spend time together. I was enchanted by all the beach had to offer. Every sandcastle built was a palace for a hermit crab and every tide pool a thriving community. Whenever I stepped into the water, my imagination would run wild. Despite how often we went, I always enjoyed our days at the beach.

The blaring noise of the wind through the streets mixed with the severe weather alerts on our cellphones. Through my window, I could make out silhouettes of trees blowing uncontrollably through the rain. This was not something that I was expecting during the holiday season. On the night of December 26, 2015, our family went into a safe room inside of our house and braced ourselves for the tornado that was tearing through my hometown.

It was mid-winter of 1848, I was doing my daily chores when my neighbor brought news that two days earlier, on January 24, James W. Marshall made a discovery of gold on his piece of land in California. At first, I didn’t think that this would affect me in any way, but then I realized I could start a new life in California filled with gold and fortune, away from my small farm in Missouri. I decided to pack up my things and start on my long journey to California, I packed enough food, water, and supplies to last me a few months. The next morning I was surprised to see that not many others from my town were seeking gold, I knew it was unsafe for me to travel alone, but I was sure I’d meet others along the way.

The environment in which I was raised was not the prettiest of sceneries, but it was filled with a lot of love. My family and I grew up in a compacted cul de sac with 5 houses each one broke down and very little no more than two bedrooms. Despite not the best living conditions the neighborhood was very peaceful and quiet. There was never no problems, fighting, or arguments between neighbors, we were like a enormous group of friends. One memory that I will always remember is when before my family moved to San Antonio all of us threw a barbecue just because it was going to be our last time seeing them. After that barbecue I realized that you can’t be happy until you love what you got. When we moved to San Antonio our family started having our ups and downs due to the fact that transitioning from state to state was hard.

California has always held a special place in my heart for many different reasons. I was born and raised in this state and although there has been many drawbacks to being Californian, it has always been a place of comfort for me. California has played a huge role when it comes to the person I am today and why I have such an open mind, love for different cultures, and my willingness to work hard for the so called “California Dream.”

First ,I am leaving NYC to go to San Francisco because I am in search of some gold

I hate the idea of starting over. I sit in class and wonder everyday, “ What would my life be if I was still living in Los Angeles? “ . Would I have the same friends as I did when I left or would I have met new people. I guess I’d never know. But I don’t like thinking about the ‘what ifs’. That just makes me feel worse and doesn’t give me the chance to move on in life.