When my husband and I first discovered Oxnard, we were blithely unaware of the prejudices against it. All we saw were the wide open beaches edged by grassy dunes reminiscent of Martha’s Vineyard and an air temperature 20°–30° lower in August than that of our Glendale home. It wasn’t until we bought our townhome seven minutes’ walking distance to the sand that we started getting hit with the barbs, mostly making fun of the name.