I love you because you helped raise me. Your four seasons, even the harshest winters, were backdrops to all the laughs and thrills and lessons of my youth.
Generations past, my ancestors from Italy and Germany somehow found their way to this bustling little city, probably by train from the Big Apple. My grandfather started a business that still operates today, manufacturing menu covers used by restaurants far and wide. He and my grandmother raised their children in one of your cozy neighborhoods, and many years later I was born.
Because of my grandfather’s line of work, I learned early on that there’s a little bit of Rochester in every corner of the world. Whether it’s a Kodak camera, or a Wegmans shopping bag, or a Xerox printing machine, or a paycheck from Paychex, or one of your well-informed displaced natives singing your praises in some far-off place…you are everywhere.
I’m a senior in college right now, and I want to see and experience the world. I may become a boomerang that comes back one day, after I’ve had a taste of the harsh realities of life outside the 585. But I take comfort in knowing that the Rochester diaspora means home is all over the place. I just have to make sure I move somewhere with a Wegmans. (But I’m young and restless so I’ll probably be back. Just be patient.)
With all my love and gratitude,