As a high school senior applying to colleges, I told my parents passionately that I wasn’t going to any college in Pennsylvania, let alone Pittsburgh, my hometown. Having lived there for 17 years at the time, I felt a sense of boredom and exhaustion with the city. I had explored every coffee shop, every park, every restaurant that was worth exploring, I told myself. I wanted to escape so badly and swore that I wouldn’t get “stuck” here or fall victim to the “boomerang effect”, the characterization of people who grow up in Pittsburgh, vow to move away, do so, and then come back to settle down. I was eager to leave and explore new places, truly believing that I had discovered everything about Pittsburgh.Â
At the beginning of my first semester, I drove the 7 hours to Vassar excitedly, unpacked all of my things, and didn’t look back. I was overjoyed to be in a new environment where everything was fresh, and I loved meeting people from all over the country and world. I hung small reminders of home on my walls, including photographs of the city, and carried Pittsburgh with me in “name, hometown, major” introductions. However, I soon learned on a campus saturated with New Yorkers and Californians, that people didn’t know anything about Pittsburgh beyond naming Steelers players or referencing Mac Miller. Pittsburgh had gone from being my entire world (a world I had yearned to escape) to something I needed to explain to everyone. Somewhere within my explanations about our history as a steel-making giant and the abundance of natural parks and greenery, I realized there was more about my city that I liked than I had realized. I quickly became defensive of it, feeling that I had to come to the rescue of the place that had shaped me so intensely.Â
After a winter break spent commiserating with high school friends going to Columbia, GW, Northeastern, and UCSB about this phenomenon, I returned to Vassar feeling bitter tinges of homesickness. I couldn’t believe this was happening; the city I swore I would leave forever was now calling me back. As the weather got warmer, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgia for springy high school memories like taking afterschool walks in my local park, doing homework with friends at our favorite tea house, and riding the bus to have a picnic at Schenley Plaza during sunset.Â
That senior year version of myself would have dreaded the idea of summer spent back home working in Pittsburgh, but as I drove back home from Vassar at the end of spring semester, I made a list of all the things I couldn’t wait to do. My jobs as a barback at a wine bar, saleswoman at a vintage store, and intern making videos about historical preservation in Pittsburgh were not glamorous by any means, but I took on an attitude of appreciation. This summer, I can truly say I romanticized my life in Pittsburgh in every way possible. I found so much happiness in previously taken-for-granted activities like a trip to the horrifically outdated Downtown DMV with my friend, dinner parties with my neighbors, and even sitting in Shadyside traffic at dusk, listening to the cicadas and watching the setting sun cast orange hues on the huge brick houses.Â
Routine summer experiences like going to the Highland Park Pool, picking friends up from work to get ready for Jam on Walnut, and running into old teachers and classmates anywhere and everywhere became important as I newly understood that these events were special and couldn’t happen elsewhere. These seemingly mundane happenings became cherished moments, revealing distinctive characteristics of Pittsburgh that I had overlooked.
Pitt students returning to the city always means that summer is over, but this year it held the significance that it was time for me to return to my own campus. Although I will miss Pittsburgh, I am excited to come back to Vassar holding fond memories of this summer, and with the understanding that loving where you come from can coexist with the thrill of new possibilities.Â
It was pretty easy for me to fall in love with Vassar, but my appreciation for Pittsburgh wasn’t realized until I had left it. Although I can’t definitively say that I will “boomerang” back here when I am older, I have now found comfort in that possibility and will always be proud to explain what a parking chair means.