“I wish I could pick Temple up and move it somewhere else,” I told my family after my first month on campus. I’m from a small town in Pennsylvania called Berwick, the same one as my mom, and my Dad is from New York City. I would always get to visit on some holidays and birthdays, but I could never get enough of what a big city offered compared to my little town. When I began to choose what school I wanted to attend, I had two huge factors: it needed to be a city, and it needed to have a marching band. Music has played a huge part of my life, ever since I picked up the saxophone in fourth grade. I was even lucky enough to buy my own tenor saxophone after saving up all my money from my Quinceañera. This instrument became my life and treated it as my child. It was a no-brainer that it had to come with me.

Despite New York being my first love, none of the nearby universities checked off my two boxes; that’s when Temple University came into the picture. I fell in love with every part of the university– but the place it’s located? I could not stand Philadelphia. I had only heard about the city in passing through history classes or the stories about sporting events but it was never anything particularly good. Nonetheless, I decided to give Philly a try. My experience with music allowed me to discover City Hall’s magic, Lincoln Financial Field’s thrill, Old City’s beauty, get my saxophone stolen, and fall in love with Philadelphia.

Arriving to Temple

The transition to college was difficult, but the band made the whole process easier. I got to move in on the Monday before class even started to prepare for my first football halftime show. With no time to explore my new “home,” my treacherous week of band camp was over and there was time to bond with our sections. I remember walking up the stairs to Center City, having just taken SEPTA for the first time. Ascending the small, shallow stairs, I was completely captivated by the setting sun in the distance. Time came to a halt for a moment, and I found myself in pure happiness. When life resumed, I followed my upperclassmen to our annual section dinner at “Marathon Grill.”It was a simple restaurant with classic American foods, but the people made the experience. Sharing a laugh with my newfound friends made my heart skip a beat for Philadelphia. With our final moments of our time, night crept in and we continued back to City Hall to take our annual group photo. Having another memory in the books came with my time being consumed by marching band throughout the fall semester. I spent almost every Saturday at the home of the Philadelphia Eagles, Lincoln Financial Field.

Becoming a Philly Sports Fan

I never was passionate about sports, whether one team won or lost, and it always confused me when people went all out for their team of choice. Until I walked into Lincoln Financial Field for the first time. It was a surreal experience to be standing, performing, dancing, and making my first memories on same turf the Philedelphia Eagles play on. As Temple’s team progressed through the season, I started picking up on the game and even getting into it myself. Every part of the university has so much pride in what we do. Whereas when I was in high school, maybe not so much. Around the same time last year, the Eagles had won the final game they needed to make it into the Super Bowl. I was in Center City at some random little side restaurant, watching the game with some friends. We finally made it to the end of the game, and we all erupted with celebration. The restaurant lit up, people elated, workers exhilarated, all for the eagles, and I was beside them, cheering back. From there, we proceeded home to beat the trains of die-hard fans, but the calm before the storm was eye-opening. Looking around at City Hall, seeing barricades in preparation for the fans to strike, was ominous. Even as my friends and I were leaving, people had just gotten to City Hall to celebrate, and the madness was beginning. I might not have stayed for the whole storm, but this time around I was in the same boat. Finally, I understood what it meant to be a Philly sports fan.

Your “Average” Game Day

The rest of the football season for Temple wasn’t quite as exciting as the Eagles, but it was still just as fun. Towards the end of November, it was a saddening time with our seniors getting ready to finish marching band. On our final game day everyone was brimming with even more enthusiasm than other days. Then right after Fly-In, we finished our performance, broke from the parade block, placed our instruments outside the Linc, to head to our tailgate like all season. Little did I know it would be the last time I saw my saxophone. It was quite traumatic coming back to my saxophone missing without a trace. The whole time, I was gaslighting myself about what had occurred. Did I bring my saxophone to the tailgate? Did I put it somewhere else? Maybe someone else grabbed it. But who would hold my saxophone? These different questions ran circles in my head until I realized I could do nothing. My tenor saxophone was stolen. With no instrument to perform with, I had no idea what to do. I only knew I needed to be with the seniors one last time. I marched the rest of the fly-in and the pregame performance without an instrument, and it would not have been possible without my section. The entire game, they were supportive and checking up on me constantly. Even the drum major, who also played tenor saxophone, had asked their roommate to run home to get her instrument so I could play with everyone else at halftime. Left and right people in the band got me through my tough time, and the rest of the day was as great as it could be. However once the halftime show was completed, I was on the hunt to file a police report with my parents and retrieve my stolen instrument.

The Aftermath

Luckily, my mom saved the serial number of my instrument all those years ago, and we were able to locate my saxophone. The police officers were helpful throughout the investigation, discovering that the instrument had wound up at a pawn shop. Getting accompanied by an officer and one of my friends, we retrieved my $4,000 saxophone for the high price of $80. I was utterly jaw-dropped by the robber getting completely scammed, not knowing the value of what he stole! Though it looked different since the last time I saw it, regaining possession of my saxophone filled my heart. It wasn’t necessarily damaged, but it had gotten smudged, my reed was chipped, and some screws were missing. From their I had devised a plan to fix my instrument. First I replaced the reed and gave it an extensive cleaning (as it very much needed one after its adventure) and then I took to the internet to find a screw to fix my saxophone. I did not know the first thing about instrument repairs in Philadelphia, let alone the place to find the tools I needed. Scrolling on Google my eyes landed on the “Ace Hardware” in Old City, and I recalled the one in my hometown giving a sense of familiarity. The moment I stepped on the grass lawn I was in awe of the structures. It was overwhelming to think about how much history has passed through the entire area: from our founding fathers signing the declaration to Philadelphia being the capital of the United States, so much pride is found in these buildings. Looking for the hardware store, I couldn’t help getting distracted by the beauty of Old City. When I approached the store and inquired about screws that might fit, I had no luck in finding what I needed. On the contrary, I found something greater. I may not have found the screws I needed (which I eventually ordered online), visiting Old City gave me a new appreciation for Philly and what the city truly represents.

As cheesy as it may sound, Philadelphia really is the city of brotherly love. On Experience Temple Day, it was the one thing that separated it from other schools. When I moved into the dorms in the fall of last year, I had no room for the university in my heart. There was no world where I envisioned myself loving the city as much as I do. I only thought of my time at Temple as a stepping stone in my career, but music through the marching band has helped me find a love for Philadelphia. Of course, getting my saxophone stolen as well. So far, my second year has been twice as much fun as the first. I say to my friends, I “bleed cherry and white” because my love for the school is never-ending. I didn’t understand it for a while, but now I know it’s a Philly thing.