This is triggered by eco’s comment.
My first graduate degree was from U of R, at the time a powerhouse of innovation in optics and medicine. At the time, Rochester was vibrant with advances in neuroscience (visual pathways - first, second and third order effects on neuronal responses to wavelength, frequency and configuration - cortical plasticity [for which a competing team won the Nobel prize in Medicine in 1984]), and math physics [this all rests on the vagaries of the electromagnetic spectrum, after all] - intellectual ferment and a great synergy with the big gorillas in town (Bausch & Lomb, Kodak and Xerox). There was a tremendous amount of excitement and cross fertilization.
It was a wonderful place to be for several years out of college. Amidst a deep recession, I was glad to guarantee a roof and meals by virtue of a grad school research fellowship, until I figured out where I fit in the world. I did work my butt off, so I feel it was an even exchange even though I did not sell out to The Man. E.g., I was NOT caught up in the aspirational rock star academic’s dream world.
Over the course of four years it became - for me - a claustrophobic company town. As I became more aware, over time, I could feel the environment closing in. I could see myself sitting at one desk for thirty years. Or, if heaven forbid I shot my mouth off, getting canned and being blackballed by all of the other companies in the company town. The Personnel guys all knew one another. They could do that back then. Yet at the same time, Rochester was vibrant, with a tremendous amount of culture, as well as emerging artists, for its size. The Eastman fortune was splendidly reflected in a world class music school, museums, and venerable old houses on (where else) East Avenue. The winters were grim - but when the lilacs bloomed in the spring, the entire town was fragrant. But then, the closest town with the same feel was Toronto, and that was in a different COUNTRY, for heaven’s sake. The walls closed in.
Fujitsu film was indeed the first nail in the coffin. I was damned lucky to get out to the wider world, into a career track jobbe in CT, with at least some proximity to NYC or Boston. I still remember driving down, steeling my jaw, and telling myself there was no going back. Worst case, CT was a staging area. I subsequently read about Kodak, then B&L, then Xerox eroding to shadows of their former selves, and felt relieved at having escaped the executioner.
I guess that gravity of that first escape marks you for life. You become sensitized to the smell of desperation. I started smelling it in CT five years after I got there. After the recession of the 90s, from which CT never recovered, I became frantic to leave. It was Rochester all over again, but this time with bigger stakes. I had children I was bound and determined to educate into critical thinking. It took me TEN YEARS to get the heck out - just as during the aftermath of my first personal diaspora, people who missed the signals and were left behind are trapped.
The third escape was to Northern Virginia. I targeted it strictly by the numbers, but the analysis worked for me. I was able to find a jobbe that is NOT a McJobbe in a little over two months of feverish searching and networking. It has its moments - it’s not exactly liveable or walkable - but it DOES have the air of purpose and energy that I remember Rochester had all those years ago. That energy, I have come to realize, represents the understanding that “Here, there is enough to go around, you can make a living, you can have enough left over at the end of the day to say a few pleasant words whilst on the line at the grocery store”. An economic surplus.
I don’t know where the heck I’d go next if I sense the same air that drove me out of Rochester and CT. Don’t think it’s likely - what optics and medicine used to be in Rochester, advances in systems design and program deployment are here, and that’s not even counting the energy and purposeful air that the military brings to an area. Plus, a critical mass of colleges and universities. There is a hot core.
But ya know what? Those instances of being trapped on the Titanic and bailing furiously to get off have left a permanent mark. I live as an ascetic. I am ready to leave on a month’s notice. My bed is an air mattress (highly recommended, BTW, as healthy alternative to Simmons). So is my couch. I have bought nothing that would impede starting up the flywheel in the event I’ve gotta roll.
My open switch is to buy them 40 acres. Just in case.
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