Changes on the horizon
It’s been a while.
A while in quarantine and a while since we’ve checked in with the world.
It’s easy to get overwhelmed by everything that’s been going on right now - whether it’s a global pandemic or the awakening of hearts and minds to the injustice baked into our society - but, we’re trying.
We’ve been listening and learning, cooking and baking, walking and driving, talking, and planning.
We’ve been afraid, unsure, and disheartened - but the days keep coming and going. We wake up in our little 500 square foot apartment and I make coffee while Sarah takes Murphy out for a quick morning break. Sarah retreats to her couch “office” while I settle in at my desk in the corner of the kitchen half of our studio.
Every day we take a break in the afternoon to walk a loop around a little pond at Olmstead Park. It’s beautiful, shady, not hugely popular like nearby Jamaica Pond, and has wide enough paths to allow us to avoid anyone passing by.
Then it’s back to work, logging off at the end of the day, cooking dinner, and tucking into the couch watching YouTube vlogs, ER, Home Town, and Alone. The last one, Alone, is a History Channel reality competition where a group of 10 survival experts compete to last the longest in the wilderness all alone, filming their experience along the way. While we’re certainly not in the wilderness, it can sometimes feel like we’re alone in our tiny bubble, far away from civilization.
It’s definitely not the life we imagined when we signed up to live in a studio apartment in the city. Living small is as much about minimalism as it is about living most of your life outside of your home, engaged in your community and exploring, and then coming back to your perfectly sized nook with your favorite few beings and things. Now we’re home most of the time, making do, and finding our stride.
We’re adapting the best we can, mostly through routine. Every day on our walk around the pond we talk about the future - our big plans and dreams. Some of those dreams are actually coming true.
And some dreams have been a long time coming. Sarah’s doctoral program has been incredibly rewarding, challenging, and seemingly never-ending but we’ve had our sights set on her graduation, and the next steps, for a few years now. The next step in her career is a postdoctoral position, a two to three-year position at a university to continue her research and contribute to an existing lab.
Combined with the postdoc search, we knew we would likely move away from Boston. And while I have family here, and a job, and there could be postdoctoral opportunities in Boston, we felt very ready to make a big change and knew that being open to moving would create many more opportunities for Sarah’s career. I’ve been in Boston for 12 years, Sarah for 9. Before that, the longest I ever lived in one place was 7 years, between sixth grade, and graduating from high school in Lebanon, PA (Yea, that one). As much as Boston really feels like home, it doesn’t feel like a sustainable forever home for us because it’s so expensive to live here let alone buy a house or something that could be big enough to fit a family: not unless we try out a few more extravagantly paid careers, or move way outside of the city and commit to grueling car commutes. None of that is headlining the tour of our dreams.
Back to Sarah’s postdoctoral dream. It’s the first step towards a serious commitment to academia (although a PhD sure feels like a commitment in itself - there are still many paths to industry after a PhD). But, academia has been good to her. She’s loved working on her research in the lab, running participants in experiments, and publishing her work. She’s mentored over 50 research assistants in the lab, received a grant for her dissertation work, and taught two undergrad psychology courses on the science of perception (in addition to many years of teaching assistant roles). Her passion for learning and deeply understanding the brain - and all it’s related inputs and outputs - is the kind of passion I think everyone hopes to find. She works hard, and it’s not always roses and sunshine, but from my vantage point, it’s the kind meaningful path worth choosing.
So, the next step, finding a postdoc. Well, job searching at the beginning of the pandemic was kind of a nightmare. Universities across the country were instituting hiring freezes, revoking offers, and beginning austerity measures (that are very much still in place). Even still, Sarah had multiple interview opportunities - did I mention she is really good at what she does? - and was offered a position at a new lab at the University of Rochester in New York in the Department of Brain and Cognitive Sciences. It felt a little touch and go for a moment as the university navigated the landscape of the new normal but after finalizing a January 2021 start date things were officially settled. It’s a dream come true: a great lab in a supportive environment, aligned with her research, career, and personal development goals. Plus, it meant that the move and different living opportunities we’d been dreaming about was coming true too.
Rochester had never really been on our radar but the more we learned about it the more we fell in love: it’s beauty, the parks and trails, Lake Ontario, a small but active queer community, historic buildings and rich history, a design and photography community, and being only 5-6 hours from Boston and only a (very long) day’s drive from Chicago. Let’s be real, it’s going to be cold but we’re not afraid of a little snow, or a lot. But what about the lake effect, you say? Sarah’s got 18 years of Lake Michigan chill on her resume. We’re good.
And let’s not forget to mention the affordability. Cost of living and housing especially. We started looking at rentals at first, worked out the numbers, and talked over what we wanted and needed (including Murphy’s wants and needs). At the end of the day, even if it was only going to be 2-3 years in Rochester at the very least, buying a house with a big yard for Murphy to roam and space for us to grow was the much better option financially and for our quality of life.
So we jumped. We bought a house!
It’s an unassuming Cape Cod (can’t leave Massachusetts after all) with the requisite hydrangeas, a sprawling backyard, a wood-paneled den, eat-in kitchen, and space for a dedicated office and guests. The previous owners were downsizing after living there for 48 years so while it needs a few updates and adjustments (namely a fence and less carpet) it’s been thoughtfully looked after and in great shape for just turning 75. It’s also not quite tiny living, but in pandemic times, we are breathing a sigh of relief for the extra space. We’re looking forward to not having to put on a mask when we take out the dog, having room for a pantry full of food, an intentionally designed office space, and having our own stranger-free back yard where we can spend time in the outdoors without worry. It’s outside of city limits, in Brighton, but still only 15 minutes from the university - probably the shortest commute Sarah has ever had.
We feel very lucky to be employed and stable enough to achieve the milestone of being first time home buyers. There are so many others that are struggling right now, or who have struggled against an unfair system for years and years. We don’t take our luck for granted.
Buying a house also wouldn’t have been possible if it weren’t for the opportunities I’ve had at IDEO and the continued support I’ve gotten over the years, especially the last year or two as we’ve navigated how Sarah’s career might impact mine. Maybe one of the only good things to come out of the pandemic for me has been the clear evidence that I can function well working from home remotely. That, plus a lot of careful planning, means that I’ll be able to continue working for IDEO from our new home in Rochester.
My current “office.” We are thankful for our kitchen island on wheels. I often wheel it in front of the laundry room during the day to feel less like I’m working in a kitchen.
Working from home indefinitely has its downsides but the commute is pretty sweet and the dress code is awfully flexible. I’m actually more productive at home - but will definitely miss the people, the inspiring work environment, the shop, and all the snacks and conversations over breakfast-making in the big communal kitchen. It will probably be especially hard when everyone goes back to the office and I’m still remote but I’m connecting more with people across the IDEO globe and think our company-wide combined remote experience has built a lot of empathy for remote workers. Plus, it looks like it’s going to be a while before things are back to a real in-person normal, if ever.
So here we are, kind of counting down the days, looking ahead to our closing on August 21st, and dreaming of home improvement projects, decor ideas, and furniture arrangement. I’ve already mapped out a house layout with measurements, priced out fencing and flooring options, and made an elaborate moving checklist. Sarah’s got miles of pins and an encyclopedic knowledge of all available couches, beds, and more.
“Home is the nicest word there is.”
Life is still good, no matter what. We are trying to stay present in the day to day where we can - our walks, long conversations, new meals, and spontaneous road trips. We dreamed of having this summer be a last hoorah in Boston, experiencing all of the sights and sounds, and being tourists in our own city. It’s not what we imagined but we’re grateful for what we have. We’re grateful for health, happiness, love, and home: home in the past, present, and future - and the joy of building a life and sharing it with all of you.
We hope to have more than a few of you on our new doorstep someday soon.
