If I’m being honest, Jacksonville isn’t the most interesting city in America. We’ve spent decades chasing development projects only to watch them go elsewhere (Disney and Six Flags, anyone?). Our downtown is mostly quiet, though there are some recent signs of life. When I compare it to places like Nashville, Louisville, or even Asheville—all of which buzz with vibrant downtown energy—it’s clear we’re not quite in the same league.
We have the St. Johns Town Center, an outdoor shopping hub, but come December it turns into a traffic snarl of epic proportions. We have beaches too, though not the powdery, white-sand emerald coast I grew up with in the Panhandle. Ours are harder, darker, more compact—but still, the Atlantic sunrise over Jacksonville Beach is worth waking up for. And then there are the sports teams. Most are minor league, though the Jaguars keep us hopeful each fall.
So what’s to love here?
The people. This is still the South, which means hospitality runs deep. Neighbors wave. Strangers strike up conversations. It feels familiar, even when the city itself can be frustrating.
My church. Daryl and I found a home at All Souls Anglican, and it has become a family in every sense of the word.
My work. I discovered a second act here as a teacher—something I never expected when I first arrived—and it’s a career I’ve grown to love.
But above all? My wife.
When we were planning our life together in 2015, it was clear that Jacksonville was where I needed to be. Daryl had a good job here, and her family was here. I had no career at the time, and little idea what the next chapter of my life would be. But she was here, and that was enough.
She’s still enough.
Even if Jacksonville were the dullest town in America, I would stay—for her. The truth is, what I love about where I live isn’t the city itself, but the life we’ve built in it. And that makes Jacksonville more than just “home”—it makes it ours.
Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt
