All my life, people have asked me “Where are you from?” And for most of my life, I really did not have a good answer. I was born in Ohio, I lived in Kentucky and Michigan, I went to college in Maine, studied in France, and lived in Maryland, New York, and California.

It was not until I was driving out of Philadelphia for the last time, on the way to Houston, with first the theme from Rocky and then Philadelphia Freedom by Elton John blaring through the car speakers, that I realized how to answer that question.

I am from Philly.

I spent 16 years in the City of Brotherly Love. I got married at Morris Arboretum, I received my doctoral degree from the University of Pennsylvania, and both my sons were born at downtown hospitals.

I am from Philly.

I was there when the Phillies won the World Series in 2008 and the city went nuts, but make no mistake, Philly is a football town and the city has gone without a championship in the sport for longer than I have been alive.

Not any more.

Last night, I watched the game with other Philly transplants, eating cheese steaks and soft pretzels (but not Yuengling Beer–clearly an oversight on my part), screaming, cheering, and groaning right up until the ball fell to the end zone ground as the clock expired.

Congratulations to the city I love, the city I now call my home.

Fly Eagles Fly.

E-A-G-L-E-S! EAGLES!

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