Consider the lower Westside. Particularly, the corner of De La Vina and Haley.

On one side, young families live in picturesque bungalows or renovated craftsman homes. Across the street, a battalion of half-pints lines up at the school bus stop. They are there every morning.

But come nightfall, watch your back.

Some live here, others at least know of it.

After sunset, everyday foot traffic turns to meth-heads sniffing for a fix and hookers hunting for tricks.

The law-abiding seldom walk alone.

Over a week ago, a 22-year-old Mexican national was murdered on that corner. His corpse was reported early the next morning, found in a pool of blood.

Luckily for the kids, it was the weekend.

In December, a man at a sober living house on Haley murdered another resident in the facility’s kitchen by stabbing him in the neck.

There are young guys and gals, fighting addictions, living in places like that all around town. Some of them even go to school with you.

And last year, on top of other highly publicized gang-on-gang violence, a local 21-year-old was kicked into a coma after trying to help a friend late one night. He now suffers from brain damage.

That senseless attack occurred on Chapala and Ortega – still the Westside.

Thankfully, no City College student has been a victim of such foul play. Not yet.

I live in a different neighborhood, one that lists, among its charms, pavements free from human bloodstains.

Both parts of town share idyllic traits when seen in the light of day.

Trees, some old and titanic, watch over both neighborhoods’ gently rolling streets.

Plush succulents punctuate manicured lawns on both sides of State with exclamatory color.

The retired, many of whom are longtime Santa Barbarans, smile and say ‘hello’ as you pass them on your way to Brownie’s or Victoria Market.

And even though us college folk imbibe alcohol occasionally, our rowdiness is tame compared to I.V.

But where I live, neither man nor beast, student nor septuagenarian, fear stumbling upon a corpse.

It’s a shame, really. The lower Westside isn’t really the lowly Westside. And it needn’t be.

In fact, we students can do some very simple things to make things feel a little friendlier. Regardless of where you live, even if only calling it home temporarily, it’s always a good idea to be more than just another nameless student renter.

This can be achieved by the simple act of being a good neighbor.

Don’t do it just for you and your friends, either. Do it also for the sweet, blue-haired old lady downstairs or on the corner.

It might be nice for locals to see more college kids being friendly and helpful once in awhile.

You might feel more a part of your neighborhood by learning that sweet, blue-haired old lady’s name.

It might be nice to give this city and its permanent residents a reason to want us here. Let locals know we’ve got integrity by letting them know we’ve got their backs.

A formidable horde has already rushed to judgment about us. They’re convinced the only memorable thing we’ve given the town is a couple thousand acres of scorched earth.

Prove them wrong. Be a neighbor who gives a damn.