I first talked in some detail about that 2002 day back in 2014, and about a lot of related issues in other posts (a list is at the bottom of this post). I feel that I’ve pretty much said all I need to, but there’s one more aspect, the future, specifically, What now?!
In the time since Nigel died, I realised that I don’t feel “at home” anywhere: He was my home in an existential sort of sense. In a physical sense, however, I’ve lived in New Zealand so long now—it’ll be 27 years in around five months—that this place is quite literally home. The reality is that after so many years away from the USA, the land of my birth feels like a foreign country—actually, far too often it seems like an alien planet.
Over the past couple years, especially with all that time on my hands during various Covid Lockdowns, I thought, more or less idly, about moving back to the USA. I wondered what I would do, how I would fit in as, essentially, an immigrant in my own native land. I even scrolled a real estate website to see what I could buy in Chicago if I sold up everything here.
Obviously, it was never serious thinking, nor was I even remotely considering it. I was simply thinking through various “what ifs”, and this one was no more serious than, say, “what if I’d been born into royalty?” I knew the fundamental truth, namely, that as Nigel put it shortly before he died, I make a better a Kiwi than I do an American. Too much time has passed, and too much has changed, including me.
That means, then, that I expect to live the rest of the years of my life here in New Zealand because I belong here. That implies, of course, that I’m no longer part of the USA, which is, at the very least, literally true: I haven’t been “part of” the USA physically since 1995 (which is precisely why it feels so foreign to me now). But as we grow apart, as I grow older, and as events there make my homeland utterly unrecognisable to me, I suspect there may well come a day when I could be permanently separated, particularly if a more hostile regime comes to power in the future—and how could I possibly rule out that prospect when I can no longer say it’d be impossible?
The last time I talked about this particular anniversary, back in 2017, I said, “For the first time in my life, I’m profoundly grateful that I have a second passport.” That’s even truer now: If the USA really does collapse, I’m safe here and also have an already well-established life. However, that’s also true even if the USA manages to shake off the disease it caught in 2016 and repair itself.
These are all things I think about nowadays as I try to work out who and what I am in this strange and unexpected life I now find myself moving through. It’s actually quite exhausting. However, while I may not yet know where and how I fit in now or in the future, 20 years ago I cemented my place in New Zealand. So, whatever my future holds, and regardless of what happens (or doesn’t happen), this place is clearly home.
And that’s really why this anniversary is still so important.
Some photos from the evening of June 10, 2002:
Nigel took this photo of me right after the ceremony. I’m flanked by George Wood and Diane Hale. The two military people at either end are Warrant Officers from the Royal New Zealand Navy, who formed the honour guard.Related posts:
- Changing policies and lives (2011) – the background on me becoming a permanent resident
- Everything changed (2013) – all the details about the day I became I permanent resident
- 12 Years a Citizen (2014) – the day I became a New Zealand citizen
- 15 Years a NZ Citizen (2017) – with some reflections on what changed between 2002 and 2017
- Getting to stay (2018) – talking about my June anniversaries
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