From Central PA to NoVa, SoFla, NYC, CT and back: Why It Pays To Live Here

I recently spotted an article listing the Harrisburg-Carlisle area as the third "most liveable" area among cities with "affordable housing" in America. Now, some people who live here might raise an eyebrow at this, not realizing just how great we have it here. I, for one, would not be among the naysayers. I grew up in the 'burbs of Harrisburg, went to Central Dauphin East H.S., left for college, and — admittedly — never thought I'd move back here in, oh I don't know, one million years (said in Austin Powerseque manner). So, how did I end up here again and why did it take me 20 years to figure it out?

To explain this, I have to recount a painful amount of personal information, but I trust you Spotobeings out there not to judge. First, I went to school in Virginia, with a lot of people from Northern Virginia (which, for those of you not familiar with the area, is its own state within VA, affectionately known as “NoVa"). So, naturally, when it came time to find my first job and first apartment, I migrated with my new friends to NoVa, where I found a job in advertising, a relatively cheap townhouse to share and a great ratio of singles. This suited me for about 18 months, at which time, I started to yearn for something less conservative, less political and less materialistic. So I moved to South Florida, near Boca Raton, and satisfied two of my three wishes (Boca is practically the capital of materialism!). I loved the weather, which I took further advantage of by buying a convertible LeBaron, and liked the freedom that freelance writing afforded. I partied with some super cool people—from Muhammad Ali to C-list celebrities, dabbled in about a dozen different enterprises from TV production to modeling to software marketing, and got to experience Fantasy Fest in Key West first-hand. Unfortunately, all this fun comes with a price and my gigs did not begin to cover it.

Needing to dig my way back out of debt, I reconnected with my boss in NoVa and took a job there in marketing and advertising again. I lived with a high school friend there for a pittance (nice friend!) and starting paying back a monumental IOU to my parents (nice parents, though I did pay it back with interest). While this was a pleasant arrangement, there was a glitch. You see, I’d fallen in love with a guy who lived in NYC, and as an actor, was not moving to NoVa for me. The allure of the big city was too great, especially since I had a “guardian” and a place to stay. So off I went, without a job, but with more freelance writing connections than ever.

This time, I was able to make some money and live within my means (even with the huge monthly nut to my parents). However, before long, I fell out of love and opted to get my own place. Cost of living was now a bit steeper. For example, volleyball cost me $150 a month, plus the cost of the required social eating and drinking that always followed games. Still, I was in my element, for the first time in my adult life, and I loved everything about living in NYC—cost of living be damned. It was a great place to be single and social. I threw myself a huge 30th birthday party at Turtle Bay, got myself invited to the Hamptons a few times, tracked down sample sales, dated some rich guys, dated some not rich but way hotter guys, finally found myself in love again (thanks, Match.com) and then found myself reeling from the after-effects of 9-11. My employer at the time was based in NoVa (I kid you not) and needed to downsize, so I either had to move back there or lose my job. I chose the latter. My man (and future husband) refused to live in Manhattan and convinced me that a move was in order. We found a rental in Greenwich, CT (one of the wealthiest ZIP codes in the U.S.) and I got a new job in marketing in the Nutmeg State. We then bought a townhouse for an exorbitant sum in Stamford. About two years later, we sat down with a financial consultant to map out our investment strategy and, instead, learned that we could not buy a house and have a second kid at our current pace, let alone make any investments. Now, we both worked full-time at good jobs, pulling down six figures each. That’s a respectable amount of change some places, but not in the New York Metro area.

We looked at each other and realized we were ready to exit the rat race. We weren’t single anymore. We had nothing to prove to anyone (if ever we did?). My husband hated his commute into Manhattan, which he’d been doing for 11 years, and I was game for a change, too. We started bandying prospective cities about and quickly recognized that we wanted to be near family now that we had a baby. We were living near a lot of family and friends (his and mine) where we were. Thus, our options were limited to Las Vegas; Ft. Lauderdale; Montgomery County, MD; Kansas City; and Harrisburg. We ruled out Las Vegas for lots of reasons, Ft. Lauderdale for lack of culture, Maryland for its high cost of living and Kansas City for being too far from an ocean. I could not believe we were seriously considering a move back to Central PA. But the facts were right in front of me: super reasonable housing prices, good schools, doting grandparents as well as lots of other family and friends nearby, proximity to major cities, healthy job market, not susceptible to tsunamis, mudslides or earthquakes. 

We decided to test the water and see if we could get any job interviews. We had some bites and made a few trips to meet with prospective employers. On our second trip, we started house-hunting, unofficially, to see what our money could buy. We were delighted to realize that we could get a big brand new home for what our townhouse would fetch. But, to us, the new homes felt really pre-fab, with hollow doors and contractor-grade cabinets and basically the cheapest materials they could muster from top to bottom. Even the lots themselves were less than inspiring, most with few trees and lots of construction going on all around. We weren’t feeling it. Then we got wind of an old house that came on the market in my parents’ town. It was not exactly what we were looking for, but the price was half of what we were seeing in new homes, so we hurried to see it before we headed back North.

Built in 1915, it was a Prairie Foursquare style house on a tree-lined avenue with just the right amount of land. The woodwork was amazing, with hardwood floors throughout, a partially finished basement, a fully finished attic and only 1.5 baths, the half being in the pantry in the kitchen. Ah, old houses. We were in love. We made an aggressive offer and found out one week later that we were proud owners of the old house in my old hometown. Holy smokes—what had we done? Neither of us had a job and we still owned a townhouse in another state. Our parents thought we were crazy. My friends were in a state of shock. I was “the last person” they ever thought would move back.

Fortunately, my husband landed a great job in IT less than five miles from our house. We were able to do a little work on the house before we moved in, but it all happened really fast. We closed on our townhouse about a month later, just before the market fell off, making a pretty penny on that transaction. I was able to freelance for my former employer through the end of that year and soon found myself in talks with andCulture. In short, everything fell into place like magic. And, though we had friends and family here looking out for us, we got the jobs totally on our own. The hardest part of the move was finding a new childcare solution for my son, since the in-home situation we had in CT was so fantastic.

Now that we’ve been here for almost two years, I can honestly say that I never appreciated this area while growing up here. Sure, I visited the State Museum, went to Pinchot Park, walked wide-eyed around the Farm Show, craved Roberto’s Pizza and had a season’s pass to Hersheypark. But there is so much going on here that I never experienced. Seeing it through a transplant’s (my husband’s) eyes helps. Having grown up in Chicago, Tampa and the NYC area, he appreciates being within three hours of Baltimore, DC, Philly and NYC; but more than that enjoys being close to great hiking trails, free concerts, ethnic-themed festivals, public golf courses, semi-pro sports and lots of colleges, and being surrounded by down-to-earth people who understand the meaning of “community.”

Best of all, we get a lot more for the money here. Check out the economics: The house we bought here would be easily five times the cost where we used to live and, combined, we took only about a 30% paycut. Our other major expense was daycare, which costs less than HALF of what we paid in CT. That’s an extra $700 a month in our pocket right there! Of course, our car payment is the same, insurance and taxes are comparable and groceries are no cheaper. Dining out, however, is a lot more reasonable, even at the nice places. We used to travel almost 40 miles a day by car, plus pay $350 for my husband’s monthly transit pass and parking permit. Here, we travel 20 miles roundtrip (10 if we can carpool) and our out-of-pocket for parking is $70. At today’s gas costs, we’re saving about $375 a month in commuting costs, not to mention the time savings.

Spotobe has opened my eyes to how much this area has to offer. I’m still learning and checking out new restaurants, parks, venues and museums, and I’m happy to be working with people who feel the same way. Kudos to MSN and their analysts for letting the ‘burg out of the bag.