of a 5—year—old child. we were... the camps were still being built in some of the most godforsaken, desolate places in the country — the desert of arizona, blisteringly hot, or the swamps of arkansas, or the windswept cold plains of wyoming, idaho, utah. but they were being built, so we were first taken to the horse stables of santa anita racetrack. each family was assigned a filthy horse stall, still pungent with the stink of horse manure. for my parents, it was a degrading, humiliating experience, taking their children into that filthy horse stall. but to 5—year—old me, it was exciting. we got to sleep where the horsies slept, so i do have memories of the same experience my parents were enduring, but totally