What unemployment? In the midst of the pandemic, she’s leaving Philly for her dream job in California.

On a recent Saturday morning, Liz Sewell packed up the contents of her Philly apartment on South Street and loaded everything into a rented Jeep Cherokee. Her destination: a new job and a new life in sunny San Jose, Calif.

“I’m ready,” said Sewell, 39.

A parks and recreation development planner, she was leaving a position she loved with the Rails-to-Trails Conservancy for an even better job — more responsibility, more money, more opportunity — with the city of San Jose. Her new job is park manager for the city’s Department of Parks, Recreation, and Neighborhood Services.

Sure, she would miss her adopted city and her Philly friends, but they could visit. And Sewell has family and friends out West.

For a hardworking, bright, young professional like Sewell, a career move like this made perfect sense. In any other time, it would even be mundane. You would not be reading about it in a newspaper.

But in the past month, the status quo has all but vanished, and the strange has become the familiar. Aspirations, rituals, even physical touch has been put on hold. What had been normal is now remarkable.

Hope is news.

* * *

As Sewell turned her rental car westward, she was gunning her engine in the face of COVID-19’s grim economic impacts. In the three weeks before, a shocking 16.8 million people had filed for U.S. unemployment benefits as much of the country shut down in order to slow the spread of the coronavirus. According to some estimates, one in 10 Americans were out of work.

Truth be told, the COVID-19 poison dart almost took Sewell’s employment, too. She lucked out at the last minute.

Five years ago, Sewell, a Michigan native, came to Philly to work for Rails-to-Trails, the nonprofit that transforms former rail beds into recreational paths. Her life had taken some twists and turns — including a stint with the Peace Corps in Thailand — before she found her passion.

“I honestly never saw myself leaving Rails-to-Trails,” said Sewell, who worked as the organization’s trails development manager. “I thought I would retire from there.”

And she had come came to love Philly, too. Her apartment was a few doors down from Tattooed Mom, that iconic South Street hangout, and across the street from Ishkabibble, which has arguably the best cheese fries in town.

But last fall, a parks listserv she was on mentioned an opening for a tempting position in San Jose. One of Rails-to-Trails’ founders piped up to listserv members, “This is the best job in the country.”

That made Sewell want to apply even more, although she didn’t think she had a chance.

“It was too good to be true,” she said. “It aligned completely with my qualifications, but I was competing with people in California.”

She applied anyway. To her surprise, almost two months later, in January, San Jose brought her out for interview. San Jose was lovely, and spending time with her relatives was pretty nice.

“I was like, this could be my life," said Sewell.

On March 2, lo and behold, San Jose made her a conditional job offer, contingent on federal security clearance. Coronavirus concerns were growing in the U.S., but Sewell was not yet unduly worried. A week later, she gave her notice to Rails-to-Trails.

But then the scary news started moving fast — with shutdowns or layoffs around the country, including northern California. People here and elsewhere were being told to work from home. Funding sources drying up seemingly overnight. If San Jose had to rescind the job offer, Sewell would be out of work.

“I was terrified,” she said. She was having nightmares about — what else? — losing jobs. But all she really could do was wait, and hope.

Somehow, though, her fingerprints got there weeks early from her new job’s required background check. Around March 24, she got the final job offer from San Jose. Her new boss told her she would be starting May 4, but would have to work remotely for the time being from her new San Jose apartment.

But — whew — she had the job.

The last couple weeks were a whirlwind of packing and saying goodbye to the many friends she had made in the Philly area.

What will she miss? Plenty.

“I will miss the amazing restaurants, the vibrant downtown. I love the density here and the small, adorable historical streets,” Sewell said. “I’ve loved the diversity of the people and the food and the culture. I’ve loved living here and getting to experience it all.”

As she prepared to leave, it was with gratitude as well as concern.

She’s grateful for her trail-building work experiences in the Philadelphia area, which led to her new job. She is aware of her good fortune and has been making a point to pay it forward, patronizing local businesses, leaving generous tips.

Her friends have been weighing on her mind, too.

“My friends haven’t lost their jobs, but some of them have undergone salary reductions,” she said. “A lot of them work for nonprofits.”

***

By noon that Saturday, the rental car was packed. Despite some dubious looks on her friends’ faces, just about everything managed to get crammed into the SUV. And in a forgivable lapse of social distancing, Sewell and her buddies broke the rule with one last goodbye hug.

Her wish, as it is for all of us, is for a quick end to this pandemic “and that life goes back to normal and we can treat each other with the same kindness and compassion I’ve seen in the past few weeks. Because I have seen a lot of kindness.”

That, among other things, has Sewell feeling something vaguely familiar. Could it be hope?

“I feel like the universe has my back, you know?”

California, here she comes.