ABSTRACT
In the spring semester of 1999, I lived a dream come true: I had a research leave in England for eight months, with both my salary and a research grant. I lived in a place remarkably similar to Iowa City called Loughborough, quieter and more cerebral than London, 90 miles south. Erica, then 10 years old, came with me and wore a uniform to school, and we both rode bicycles everywhere. I had an office at the university, colleagues to talk about research with, freedom from the structure of teaching and the stress of committee work. In almost every way, it was the happiest time of my life.
