I was born a nomad. Moving is in my blood.
My dad was in the Air Force, which meant a new assignment every three years or so. Growing up, I lived in a lot of different places. One of them was Rapid City, South Dakota. We moved there in 1983, just in time for my freshman year of high school. It was a sharp contrast to Hawaii, which we’d just left, but I loved it. When we moved again, in the summer before my senior year, I was not a happy camper. But such is the life of a “military brat” – you either roll with the punches or go crazy. I chose door number one.
I eventually settled in Vancouver, Washington. I figured the Pacific Northwest would be home forever, but while it is undeniably beautiful and has many charms, it’s lost its luster for me. The Portland metropolitan area has changed a lot since I arrived in 1994, morphing from a quiet little spot that nobody seemed to know about to a hip, trendy destination. It’s all your fault, Portlandia! 23 years later, and it’s time to move on. So my wife and I are pulling up stakes and moving 1,250 miles east, to begin a new life in a most unlikely but familiar destination: Rapid City, South Dakota.
This is our journey.