Going Home to a Foreign Place
Regular readers of this blog know I have not published a new post since December 2024. The reelection of Donald Trump last November squelched my desire to write. As I said then in a post titled Hope, Despair, and the Angel of History, Trump’s reelection felt like a direct assault on the social vision of justice and shalom that has inspired my work as an educator and scholar.
Unexpected Move
Instead of blogging, I have been organizing all of my paper files (eight four-drawer filing cabinets!), packing my personal academic library (more than 70 boxes of books!), and helping our household prepare for a return to Canada. That’s where Joyce and I (Americans by birth) first met, and it’s where we were married in 1977.
Blue Water Bridge between Michigan and Ontario
Trump’s reelection is the main reason we decided in late January to make this unexpected move. Thirteen years ago, when we settled in West Michigan after living in Toronto for ten years, we thought we’d made our last cross-border move. We fully intended to stay in our lovely old home in the Heritage Hill historic district of downtown Grand Rapids. We planned to remain there until we either joined a retirement community or shuffled off this mortal coil.
But we refuse to live in a country controlled by fascists. And as dual citizens of the United States and Canada, we have the option of leaving the country of our birth. So, despite the upheaval of uprooting yet again and the pain of leaving behind friends, familiar settings, and fellow artists and singers, we have moved to London, Ontario, where we have few connections. It reminds us of the first years of our marriage, when we moved from Toronto to West Berlin for the sake of my doctoral research and did not know anyone before we arrived. (I write about that in a blog post titled Hope for Truth.)
Going Home
In fact, as we drove to London after crossing the Blue Water Bridge on Tuesday, June 24, we tuned into Tom Allen’s program About Time on CBC radio. What we heard confirmed our decision to move. He played the gentle Largo movement from Antonin Dvořák’s Symphony No. 9 (“From the New World”). The familiar song based on this movement’s melody is called “Going Home.” And that’s how we heard it, with tears in our eyes, even though we’ve never lived in London before. (Be sure to listen to the linked choral performance by Voces8!)
Joyce and Ruby at our new front door, June 26, 2025
Our move to London has gone very well. The first couple of days we stayed at a pet-friendly hotel until we received our house keys. Then the big semi-truck carrying all of our household goods pulled up to our new home at 8:00 am on Friday, June 27. It was unloaded by 3:00 pm, and our own unpacking began.
Because we had clearly labeled all of the boxes, we’ve taken a systematic approach to moving in. Now all of my books are on bookshelves in my large and cozy basement study—the first time I’ve been able to house all of them in the same room—and all of my file cabinets are restocked and side by side in the adjoining laundry room. Joyce’s sculpture studio will also be in the basement, next door to my study. She has finished painting it and is in the final stages of setting it up.
We love Sherwood Forest, the wooded residential neighborhood where we’ve settled. (As a California native born to Dutch immigrant parents, I have to smile at the English place names here. Who would have dreamt that one day I would live in Sherwood Forest near the Thames River in London, Ontario?) Our neighborhood was developed from farmland in the 1950s and 1960s, and many acres were allowed to revert to woodlands and meadows. Our own yard feels like a mini forest.
Ruby Unperturbed
Ruby unperturbed, May 29, 2025
Our dog Ruby and I enjoy hiking the trails that meander through the Medway Valley Heritage Forest, which adjoins our neighborhood. It’s wonderful simply to walk out the door and head into the woods! Ruby, who turned eight years old on July 10, has shown the sort of flexibility and adventurous spirit that we her senior-citizen companions sometimes struggle to maintain. In Grand Rapids, she was surprisingly relaxed despite the disruptions of moving. In late May, I shot a photo of her, sprawled belly up on her dog bed next to my bookshelves, the morning after I had started to pack my books. I call it “Ruby Unperturbed.”
It took two days to load the moving van in Grand Rapids, Friday (June 20) and Monday (June 23). That Friday morning I brought Ruby to stay with Mary Beth Tourre, her dog trainer, and Ruby remained there all day until the movers had left. On Monday I brought her to Mary Beth again. Ruby stayed there overnight until we picked her up as we headed out to London Tuesday morning. We call Mary Beth our dog whisperer. Ruby loves her and seems happy and content whenever we pick her up. Mary Beth gave us a new toy, chew bone, and bag of dog snacks to help Ruby cross the border.
At first Ruby found it hard to settle in our new house. Boxes and unarranged furniture were all around, and there were no familiar spots to lie down. But she adapted quickly. The only noticeable signs of stress were her wanting even more to stay near me throughout the day and her initial reluctance to venture out from the house. Now, however, she’s ready to explore the neighborhood. And she’s been especially happy to swim in Lake Huron, where I’ve taken her to the dog beach at Pinery Provincial Park a couple of times.
Warm Welcome
Many passersby have greeted us since we moved in. On Canada Day (July 1), Blair and Alison, our neighbors across the street, came over to welcome us with a bottle of champagne. We had them over for happy hour a week or so later. Blair is a lawyer by training and a musician by avocation, a baritone like me. He immediately invited me to join the Pro Musica choir; I’ve emailed the conductor to ask for an audition.
The folks at Western University (formerly the University of Western Ontario) have also been most friendly and welcoming. On Wednesday, July 9, Joyce and I met Melanie Caldwell, the program coordinator for the Theory Centre where I am a resident fellow. She showed us around the Centre and introduced us to Corey Dyck, who chairs the university’s graduate philosophy department nearby. Corey then took us on a tour of the entire department. It’s huge, spanning four floors in Stevenson Hall. I’ll have an office there this year while Helen Fielding, a philosophy department member, is on sabbatical. She generously offered this even though Helen and I have never met.
University College at Western University, London, Ontario
The next Monday (July 14) I strolled to the university through the Medway Forest to pick up my Western University ID card and an office key. It takes about 25 minutes to walk to the main campus, and another ten minutes to reach King’s University College, where I’ll also have an appointment as an Honorary Professor in their undergraduate philosophy department.
A month after arriving in London, we feel settled and content. I’ve been able to return to academic research and writing. It’s good to be back in my element, surrounded by my books and having all of my paper files at my fingertips. I hope to resume regular blogging as well. In fact, I’ve already started a post about authoritarian attacks on scientific truth. But that will need to wait until a later date.
Stay with Us
Let me leave you with a sound image from the concert Joyce and I enjoyed a few nights ago, our first musical outing in our new city. The Junges Vokalensemble Hannover, a first-rate chamber choir from Hanover, Germany, wrapped up a three-day conducting masterclass with a concert led by five Western University student conductors. For me, the highlight was the choir’s performance of the “Abendlied, Op. 69, No. 3” by Josef Rheinberger, a piece I’ve also sung. (The linked performance is by the Cambridge Singers led by John Rutter, with the vocal score displayed.)
Photo by David Emrich on Unsplash
The song’s text comes from Martin Luther’s German translation of the story about Jesus’s walking with two travelers on the road to Emmaus. The travelers ask him to spend the evening with them (Luke 24:29): “Bleib bei uns, denn es will Abend werden, und der Tag hat sich geneiget.” (“Stay with us, because it is almost evening, and the day is now nearly over.”) The student conductor on this occasion had just the right fluid gestures, and the choir’s diction and intonation were impeccable. The six-part harmonies of this Romantic piece are so luscious, the vocal lines so pure, that Joyce and I felt enveloped in a warm blanket of sound. We wanted to linger there.
I do indeed want to stay in this place where, due to a political catastrophe, Joyce and Ruby and I have landed. If your travels take you to Sherwood Forest, please stop by and linger here.
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