The Where I Live series aims to showcase our diverse city and region by spotlighting its many vibrant neighborhoods. Each week a local resident invites us over and lets us in on what makes their neighborhood special. Have we been to your neighborhood yet? Get in touch to share your story. If your story is selected and published, you will receive a $250 stipend.
My story in San Antonio really starts with my dad.
He immigrated to the United States in the early 1980s and settled on Allsup Street, near West Commerce and Old Highway 90. That’s where he built his foundation. It’s also where he met my mom, started a family, and began his path to becoming a U.S. citizen. Around the same time I was born in 1985, he finalized his citizenship. I’m the oldest of three — my sister came a few years later, and my younger brother after that.
I don’t remember much from those early years on the West Side, but I remember going back often to visit family — my grandmother, cousins, uncles. My dad always said it was a rough part of town, and as soon as he was able, he moved us out looking for something better for us.
My earliest memories really begin on the Southeast Side, off W.W. White Road between Rigsby and Southcross. We lived in a small trailer park, maybe 35 or 40 trailers total. It was simple, but it was home. I remember riding bikes, playing football, running through the woods and being out on the dirt roads with the other kids. Everyone knew each other.
Some of my best memories with my dad from those early years and into my teenage years were the times we’d go fishing together at Calaveras Lake. That was our spot. It was simple, just time spent together, but those are the moments that stick with you.
I also remember the early mornings. My dad would carry me half-asleep to a babysitter just a couple trailers down. At the time, he was already working in concrete construction, which meant long hours and sometimes traveling. There were stretches where I wouldn’t see him for days at a time. I didn’t understand it then, but I do now —he was doing whatever it took to build a life for us.
By the time I was moving from second to third grade, we relocated again, this time south of San Antonio near Elmendorf, in what is now Sandy Oaks. Back then it was just another quiet subdivision surrounded by open land and woods. I grew up there, going to Southside ISD, riding the bus every day, and spending my time outside like most kids in that area — riding bikes, playing in the woods, and making the most of what we had.
Around middle school, my dad made the jump from working hourly for companies to becoming a subcontractor for homebuilders across San Antonio. That’s when I really started being around the work more. At first it was just tagging along on weekends and summers, but I remember learning how to operate small equipment like a bobcat and helping wherever I could.
By high school, I had more responsibility — driving company trucks, picking up materials, delivering to job sites, and interacting with superintendents. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was already being shaped for something bigger.
I also remember watching the city grow. Back in the late ’90s and early 2000s, areas near Highway 151 and Loop 410 were still wide open. I remember people saying that the highway was a waste, that it went nowhere. At the time, it really did feel like that, just empty land on both sides. But years later, that same area exploded with development. Neighborhoods, businesses, everything. And we were right there, working in it, pouring concrete for residential foundations, driveways and patios across San Antonio — helping build the city as it expanded.
When the 2008 recession hit, everything slowed down. Construction took a hard hit, and we felt it. I remember the toughest part wasn’t just the loss of work — it was having to lay off guys. Telling someone there’s no more work, seeing the worry in their eyes about how they’re going to take care of their family, those are things that stay with you. I’d go home thinking about them, wondering what was next for all of us.
Around 2010, I made the decision to leave and find steady work. I reached out to a friend who helped me get on with Zachry Corporation. That decision took me out of Texas for the first time. I worked in places like Florida and Virginia, doing long hours, sometimes 14, even 16 hours a day, seven days a week.
I remember arriving with barely anything, sleeping on the floor for a couple weeks until I got my first checks. At that time, I honestly thought my dream of coming back to San Antonio and building something of my own was over.
But looking back, that period changed everything.
Working on large industrial projects — power plants, refineries — I learned skills I never would have picked up otherwise. I went from just tying rebar and running a bobcat to operating heavy equipment, reading engineered plans, and managing crews of 30 to 40 people. It pushed me to grow in ways I didn’t expect.
At the same time, life kept moving. My daughters were born during those years, and everything I was doing was with the goal of eventually bringing it all back home to San Antonio.
After years of working, saving and gaining experience, I built enough of a cushion to come back. I returned to Sandy Oaks and started rebuilding what my dad had started, this time with more knowledge, more experience and a clearer vision.
There was something about coming home and staying home that felt different. Maybe it’s because I live across the street from my parents and close to my brother. Maybe it’s because this is where everything began for our family.
Today, I run my own concrete company, RL Concrete, continuing the work that started with my dad decades ago. My wife, who came from Mexico and was a teacher there, now helps with the business while also continuing her career in education here in San Antonio. She’s worked with local schools and helped shape young kids in the community, which is something I’m incredibly proud of.
Our daughters are growing up here too, going to school here, building their own lives in the same city that gave our family an opportunity.
And now, I also have a young son, about two and a half years old, getting ready to start pre-K at the same Catholic school my wife teaches at. Watching him grow up here, I can’t help but see the story repeating itself in a different way.
Now I’m the one thinking about what to pass down, the same values my dad gave me: respect, work ethic, and doing things the right way. Hopefully his path isn’t as hard as ours was, but at the same time, I want him to understand what it takes to build something.
Sometimes at the house, we have equipment parked from work, like a bobcat, and my dad will put him on it, just like he did with me when I was a kid. Seeing that come full circle is something I don’t take for granted.
Whether he grows up to be a lawyer, a doctor, an engineer, or even takes over the business one day, I just hope he carries those values forward.
Because for me, San Antonio isn’t just where I live. It’s where our story keeps going.
