Menlo Park, California

Alex Rudolph

My sights were never set on Philadelphia, but they weren't really set anywhere. I'd gone to school in Washington, DC, met my girlfriend and then I moved back home to Menlo Park, California and she went back to Trumbull, Connecticut. The goal was just to live together gain.

The Bay Area was a great place to grow up and I still love visiting, but the tech boom (and bust, and subsequent boom) directed a vibrant part of the country's focus squarely in one direction. I graduated college in 2012, one year after Facebook moved its headquarters to my hometown, and the difference on my return was palpable. Everybody in every restaurant was loudly talking about their start-up and so many of the great independent businesses had been razed. I worked simultaneously at an internship in San Francisco and a book store in Palo Alto, occasionally skipping weekends to juggle a job-and-a-half. It was unsustainable.

On the other side of the country, my girlfriend was studying music therapy and getting a grad degree at Drexel. I only visited her once, for a week in the middle of a cold winter, but I saw enough to recognize Philly's perks. Reading Terminal Market alone would have sealed the deal. My internship continued to demand I do nearly-unpaid work on my vacation, not realizing how much more appealing they were making the idea of never returning home.

I did go back, of course, and I was laid off when the place I was interning collapsed, of course. During out daily check-in, my boss had let me know work was drying up and that I should take an unpaid month off and check-in again later to see if the company could bring me back on. When I emailed him after enough time had passed, he responded as if he'd already laid me off. "Thanks for checking in," my apparently-former boss wrote, "and know that you can always check in. I have meant to send you a note for weeks - but I have simply been insanely busy." Surprise, the company you worked at closed a few weeks back.

As much as I loved being around my family and as great as the book store was, it was time to go. My partner had a few months left in her grad program and the plan was for me to move out there for six months or so. She'd finish up her studies and then we'd assess our options. That was over ten years ago.

Moving to Philly seems quaint now. I sent a few boxes of clothes and things out in advance of my arrival and paid something like $300 in shipping. That's still a lot of money to me now, but I can't imagine moving across the country now, with everything I've amassed, rising freight costs and a three-year-old would cost anything less than $3,000.

I flew into Trenton and that was it, I was a Philly resident. I say that hesitantly-- I know a lot of Philadelphians would still not consider me one of them after my decade-plus in the city-- but it's difficult to feel too bad about that, given I myself was repulsed by the waves of young professionals who terraformed the Bay Area.

We lived in a studio in Germantown at first, and while we had a car, my wife was using it for work. The regional rail only came in every hour. I'd moved to Philly, but I couldn't really appreciate it. I felt cut off. Center City was right there and I could see it, but getting there was a pain and I spent too much time in our tiny apartment, applying to jobs and watching the same twenty movies I'd watched in California.

Still, exploring the city was a joy. Even if relying on an infrequent and unpredictable train put a strain on impulsive trips, I was able, in the time between my arrival and the start of my first job here, to explore museums, neighborhoods and comic shops. I was able to see Philly as a city, which is not always easy when you're in a new place. And while I never need to go to the Mütter Museum again, I went enough times in those first few months. Unemployment can be hell. It can also be a small gift.

After a couple years, we moved to Old City, which was dramatically nicer. I could walk to things. The bus came regularly. Our apartment didn't smell like the neighbors' cigarette smoke. It was like we were actually in Philly.

Two years after that, we settled in Northern Liberties. As I said, we'd intended to stay in Philly about six months after I moved in. While the months stacked into a year and one year became a few, we'd always intended to look at other places. Maybe find somewhere more affordable, maybe some city closer to family. That may happen in the future. But Northern Liberties felt like home. We got married. We adopted a dog, Pumpkin Pie. We had a baby, Jasper. We decorated for Halloween and spent a Christmas in our home.

Jasper started preschool three months ago. Somewhere between Germantown and Northern Liberties, the city began to feel like a place I lived, rather than a place I was killing time in between making big decisions. I've seen more concerts in this city than I've seen in any other and held more jobs, for longer periods of time. I could be happy anywhere if I was with my family, but I truly believe I'll be happiest here, in Philly. Unless Kettle Black and Middle Child Clubhouse move to Cleveland or something. I'm kidding, I think.

I work for the City right now, after a few years in the nonprofit world, and I truly feel connected to this place. There are worse routines to fall into than the one where you work a 9-to-5, enjoy the company of your family and appreciate a city like Philadelphia on weekends. It's the best routine I've ever had.