Shortly after my wife and I bought a small condo in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, she learned she had been accepted to the PhD program in Health Policy Research at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities (Minneapolis) Campus.

The fellowship she earned would cover all tuition and provide a modest stipend to live on. We spent the next five months traveling back and forth between New York and Minneapolis and trying to get accustomed to the idea a major change was coming down the road.

We used our third trip to Minneapolis to search for an apartment. Coming from New York we were a bit arrogant. We, certainly I, figured we’d have no problems finding a perfect apartment that would be cheaper than cheap.

After three days of searching we began to realize the true nature of the situation. Minneapolis was then running at about a 2% vacancy rate. Desirable apartments, and less desirable apartments, were renting for near New York prices.

There was also a racial issue. One apartment complex manager said on the phone, “we might have space, c’mon up and we’ll have a look at you.” Upon arriving he got up from behind the desk, popped me on the shoulder and said, “ok, you’re one of ours, go ahead and fill out these forms.” My first reaction was to see if I was wearing some kind of logo on my shirt.

It wasn’t until Saturday night, still homeless, the day before we were to return to New York, that a friend of a friend of a friend contacted us and told us about a woman who would be moving out of nice one-bedroom at the beginning of September. We signed on the spot.

We had a place in Minneapolis.