This episode contains graphic descriptions and audio that may be upsetting to some listeners.

Listener discretion is advised.

I have a confession to make to you all.

I'm a Philly girl who married a New Jersey-born man.

This is almost unheard of coming from a Philadelphian, but here I am, living proof that this can actually occur. I met my husband at a

wedding a number of years ago. His family had moved from Hamilton Township, New Jersey, to Bucks

County, PA right as he entered his sophomore year of high school.

We wouldn't meet for another four or five years, but that decision to come to PA was the first

in a long line of falling dominoes that would lead us right to this moment.

I recall early on in our relationship finding out that my husband had a nickname in high school.

They called him Jersey. I didn't

make the connection at first, but since he was on the track team and swimming team, I thought it was

just a jock thing, a crowd I wasn't really a part of at all in my school. Come to find out he was born and

raised in New Jersey. My husband, to this day, gets very nostalgic about the town he grew up in. He loved

it and has told me on more than one occasion that if he could move back to his childhood home,

he would, or at least pick up the house at its foundation and transport it to another location.

He just truly loved that house. Unfortunately, his neighborhood has gotten a little rough around the edges

as the years have passed, but he still has such a soft spot for it. In the same way I feel about Philadelphia,

actually. I think it's just something you feel when you're a kid who grew up in a day and age where your

face wasn't buried in a screen. You actually walked around your neighborhood and established

memories. I remember a time where my husband and I went to the aquarium in Camden, New Jersey,

and afterwards he said he wanted to drive through his old neighborhood because it wasn't far from

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