Know Thyself

I met the Love's Embrace directors at my church and they really touched me when I learned about their ministry. There are over 100,000 orphans in Ukraine. In many cases, they are living in homes or shelters, but this ministry focuses on the children living in the streets. Without help, many of the older ones would end up in prostitution or some form of drug trafficking or gang so they could survive. This organization pulls them out of that pit and gives them a chance at a full and productive life. The aircraft touched down in what I'd describe as a well-controlled crash, and I felt my attitude improve the more I focused on what Love's Embrace did for the children with whom they worked.

I stood outside the airport letting my nostrils recover from the assault on the aircraft. The gentle fragrance of a light fresh rain acted like a welcomed cleansing agent, and I felt my mood improve. My hosts, Yulie and Steve Fedotova, walked up to me with broad smiles and warm hugs, and my bad mood was a thing of history.

I would be staying with them in their apartment that they kept near the orphanage facility. They had a permanent home in the states, but they said they spent more than half their time in the Ukraine. While Steve drove, Yulie began to tell me more about what I would be doing during my stay.

"The children really like to hear what life is like in the US. Many will eventually either be adopted or will be temporarily housed with American families. We have some discussion guides to use so all you really have to do is talk with them about what you know."

"What ages are they?"

"Most of them right now are teenagers. We have a few younger ones, but those who will soon be going to the US are between thirteen and sixteen years old. Those are the kids we want you to talk with. They will be very different from the children you've known in the past. Their lives have been hard and their attitudes towards life reflect that. They are not very trusting, and will assume that you want something from them. Just be yourself, the kind-hearted man who cares, and you'll be fine."

I guessed Yulie didn't get the memo that I was a reformed asshole. I had to be sure that side never escaped during my visit.

At their apartment, Yulie's mother was cooking dinner and the smells filled my mind and senses with a feeling of home and family. There was great warmth there, and I needed that comfort. I was quiet during dinner, and Yulie guessed correctly that my flight was exhausting. Steve seemed to have some special radar.

"Anson, is there something else going on? I know we don't know you well, but you're projecting a completely different energy than you had when we met in the US."

"I have some personal things that just hit me with a woman I was getting close to in the states. I think that and the travel just has me worn down, and I could use a good night's sleep."

Not being a person you could easily dismiss, Steve immediately launched into prayer and Yulie joined him as they prayed for my visit, but also for my circumstances. They ended with a group hug that, somehow, I needed far more than I knew. I slept soundly, and felt at peace for the night.

At the orphanage, it didn't take long for my heart to soften. I walked into a cement block building that was brightly painted in shades of green. It reminded me of some of my old school-rooms from when I was a kid. There were twenty-seven kids in the room, engaged in various learning activities, and fifty-four eyes were watching every move I made. I smiled and made eye contact with as many as I could. Most continued to keep their focus on me and I sensed some level of acceptance. I figured that this was my first test—the eyeball challenge. I hoped I passed.

I understood that many of them experienced all sorts of horrors in their past, and yet to me they had the look of angels. I wanted to embrace them, but I was warned that the girls in particular could misread that or might react poorly. I spent my time talking with them, telling them about life in the US, encouraging them and helping with their English. Most spoke it very well, but a few struggled and I tried to help.

I chatted for a time with two girls, both fifteen, who sometime in the next few months were scheduled to go live in homes near Philadelphia. Yana and Daria spoke better English than many American kids. Their youthful energy escaped in teenage squeals, constant motion as if their chairs were hot, and rapid-fire overlapping conversation that almost frustrated my ability to focus, but I managed. I tried to answer their questions as best I could, but I was no help at all when their inquiries concerned pop culture.

Daria was most interested in American boys and what they were like, but Yana's energy left immediately when the subject came up. Daria placed her hand over Yana's and purposely changed the subject. I mentioned it to Steve on the way to their home that night.

"Yes, Daria has been more fortunate than most. When she was eleven her mother died at work and there was no family to take her in. A neighbor got us involved before she ever had to find a way to survive. Yana has never shared what happened to her family. We know they are no longer living, but we know little else. She lived on the streets for a while and we have our fears about the things she may have suffered, but she won't tell us anything. The family she'll be joining in Philadelphia was carefully selected because they are uniquely able to help her recover from that. We've done what we can and she has come a long way, but her scars run deep."

Yana's story touched me. I couldn't stop thinking about her and the others I had the chance to interact with. That night I renewed my determination to be a man of prayer, and I cried to my God for Yana and the others.

I fell in love with these children. How could you not? So young, with no family, abandoned with no hope, and yet here they were, finding the chance they needed. They didn't trust easily, but I felt accepted by them. This would not be the end of my involvement with Love's Embrace.

The six days went by too quickly, but it was time to move on. It seemed the same rain that greeted me upon my arrival wanted to send me to my next destination with a similar sense of cleansing. I was smothered in self-pity upon my arrival. During my stay I learned humility, and struggled with a sense of shame for how I'd lived so long while being unaware of how cruel the world could be for so many. Now, as I departed Kiev and considered my previous experience in India, I felt a growing determination to make a positive difference for those who really needed it.

Rouen

I can't say I hated France, but I never enjoyed going there. Maybe it was because it was always work related and my French coworkers were difficult to endure. They ranged from outright refusal to consider anything different, to being passive-aggressive—pretending to cooperate and then doing what they wanted to do in the first place.

The lavatory disinfectant and general stale air permeated the jet's cabin. I was awakened by the rougher-than-usual touchdown and the additional odor of jet fuel or exhaust—I'm not sure which. The aircraft's taxi from landing to the terminal seemed to take longer than the time it took in the air to get to Charles de Gaulle airport. I may not have hated France, but I hated this airport.

I knew the roads well from the airport to Rouen. My previous company had a facility just outside Rouen, and I had to go there often for management meetings and other projects. That's where I met Kathryn Geisel and where she still worked.

Kathryn was born in the USA, but left during her junior year in college to follow Stefan Geisel to his home in Germany. They married and seven years later had a son, Grieg. The boy was only three months old when Kat learned that her husband was screwing around with their neighbor, Freda... and her husband... and several other people from both genders. She was on maternity leave from her job with my company's German sales office. Learning of her husband's sexual tastes and infidelity, she arranged through her boss to take a position at the factory in Rouen, announced she was leaving Stefan with the added emphasis of a forceful kick in the balls (hospital worthy), and moved to Rouen with Grieg.

The roads in France were not like those in the US. Route numbers and road names either didn't make sense, or didn't exist. You navigate by following signs from point to point. I had a two to three-hour drive to my destination, and I took my time so I could enjoy the countryside as I travelled. Taking my time was both for the scenery and because I had far too many speeding tickets from this route already, thanks to hidden camera surveillance.

The landscape was filled with neatly manicured fields over gentle rolling hills. It was amazing how there seemed to be so few people and structures this close to Paris, but if not for the neatly formed and placed concrete power poles I would have felt like I was in the eighteenth century. Occasional small villages with buildings hundreds of years old broke up the serenity of the fields with a dash of civilization, although human life besides the other vehicles on the road was rarely witnessed.

It had rained in Normandy. The climate is similar to that of Brittan, and locals claimed it rained constantly. I arrived in Rouen and drove my favorite road that descended into the city from high above, with a spectacular view. I always looked down and imagined the city was like the toy train display that I remembered from my childhood. The memory always gave me a comforting warmth.

I chose to stay in the Hotel de Bourgtheroulde, perhaps my favorite venue in Europe. I didn't like it for its décor or luxury, but because of the ambience. Those of us who often stayed there nicknamed it the Castle. It was filled with old world charm, art, and architecture, but had splashes of contemporary features that made it interesting. Its placement in the central part of Rouen made it a pain in the ass to get to. Narrow, one-way passages took you near it, but the street it sat on was for pedestrians only. You had to rely on valet service for your car and luggage since you could only stop for a few moments on a street around the corner. Those with physical challenges had no easy access. A flight of steps was the only way to get to get inside.

The location of the hotel was another reason I chose it. It was one block from the square where Joan of Arc was executed. A church that looked like a capsized ship sat on the site as a memorial. The walking streets were filled with old world charm and interesting people of all sorts. I arrived on a Sunday and took a stroll. In one single scene, I observed a group of young French ladies chatting excitedly about some boy, a senior couple walking slowly hand in hand, two businessmen walking and talking rapidly without listening to each other, and an older poor man relieving himself against a building. How the entire scene seemed so natural, I wasn't sure, but it seemed so French.

I wandered into La Couronne, the oldest operating restaurant in France. Established in 1345, it was on the square where Joan of Arc was executed. I guess it was possible that people sat in the spot I occupied and watched the events of that day. The sense of history flooded my mind every time I visited this place.

Dining alone, my mind drifted to Kathryn as I enjoyed a fine dish of Roasted Sea Bass. As an American in a French factory, I gravitated to her as soon as I met her. We could talk like Americans talk, and discuss the challenges presented by working within the French culture.

I looked over at a young couple sitting at the table where I first dined with Kat. I remembered her telling me her life's story as I stared into her eyes. I took everything I had in me to keep looking at her. Deep in the blue pool of her soul I could have easily lost myself and it frightened the married man in me. Her long dark-red hair reflected her Irish ancestry and played to my attraction for her. I found the faint freckles that bespeckled her complexion completely irresistible. When she smiled, which was often, subtle dimples finished the work of art that was Kat. She was a magnificent masterpiece.

I was drawn to her before we said a word to each other. The more we talked... oh my! Her personality was contagious and her sharp mind challenged my brain in such an endearing way. My marriage was under assault. Rationalization of vows flooded my thoughts. If everything else about me shouted 'asshole,' then why couldn't I give in to this temptation? I guess even assholes have lines they won't cross.

Over the years, we dined together at this restaurant at least a dozen times. I think it was the fourth time when she shared a problem with her son, and I put my hand on hers. She noticed it, too. The touch was magical. Each visit thereafter we found reasons to touch, or hug, or to hold hands, but it was the conversation after dinner during my last visit that came back into my head when I was talking about my trip's itinerary with Traci so many months earlier.

"Anson, I can't bear the thought that you're leaving the company. Will I see you or hear from you again?"

"I don't know. My new company doesn't have an office near here, but I really enjoy our friendship. I hope we can keep in touch."

"Speaking of touching, just holding your hand feels so right. Is there... can we be more? Are we just friends, because I want something much more intimate."

"Kat, I know. I feel it, too. I'm walking a fine line between trying to be faithful to my marriage, and wanting to carry you in my arms to my room."

"You don't have to carry me. Not only can I walk, I'd race you there. Do you have any idea how much I want to be with you?"

I remember travelling home after turning her down. I was proud of my strength and kicking myself in the ass at the same time. I hadn't realized it before, but that's when my behavior at home and towards Linda really took a nose dive.

"Shit!" I shouted at no one in particular. Surrounding tables stopped their conversations to look at me as I apologized. I couldn't get past the 'eureka' moment of self-awareness. After that night when I turned down Kat's affections, I blamed Linda! What the hell! What kind of jerk blames his wife because he chose to come home to her instead of sleeping with another woman?

I finished my meal and went to my room to call Traci and Caleb before retiring for the evening. They were more understanding than I deserved when I shared my revelation. How could they still love me after all the crap I did?

*****

I had a Monday morning meeting scheduled with my friend, Claude Guiot, at his new company. He had been the plant manager at my old firm's facility where Kat still worked, and he was hired by the American owners of his new company with the express purpose of turning it around. It was the only factory of seven in the world that couldn't turn an acceptable profit.

"Claude, you nasty old Frenchman! Good to see you!"

"Likewise, my 'Ugly American' friend!"

"Well, that's why you hired me, didn't you? To be the 'Ugly American' you need for this place?"

"Absolutely. If you are as tough as you used to be, I'm counting on you to shake things up."

"Do you mean I should scare them into submission?"

"Something like that."

Claude and I exchanged personal greetings for a while, then he gave me a tour of the facility. I did my best to pretend to be impressed, but this place had more problems than a diseased cat in a dog kennel. I was careful to let each group leader talk with pride about their team and the many accomplishments. I wanted them to believe that I was buying their load of bull. The day of reckoning would come.

We returned to Claude's office before we broke for lunch. As he closed his door, the loaded question was launched.

"Well, Anson, what do you think of my domain?"

"I think you have a ton of problems with leadership that doesn't know how to lead, and can't facilitate the changes you need with their current attitude. That factory is operating like a scene from 1920, and they think it's the best factory in the world."

"So, what do you want to do?"

"I need to gauge their abilities. This afternoon and the next two days, I'd like to roam around and talk without their boss hovering over my shoulder. I want to also meet with the leader of each major group and a few of their top assistants so I can get to know them. Then, on Thursday morning I want you to schedule a leadership team meeting for three hours. I'm going to lead them through the strategic planning process and give them assignments to come to another team meeting the following Thursday to present their team's operational plan to achieve a few specific goals: Financial stability and market share growth."

"What do you expect will happen?"

"I expect we're going to see weak plans with no measurable goals. Then I expect to explode into the ugly American you need. I know French law makes it difficult to remove people or play too much with compensation, but your corporate leadership said they were willing to pay consequences to get things right. The other choice is to close this place, and while that will be very expensive in France, they're willing to pay a lot of money to make a problem go away if it can't be fixed."

"What do you need me to do?"

"Be their leader. You need to be upset at how I'm going to treat them, but you need to show support for the company goals and be visibly committed to change. When I leave, you'll need to pick up the pieces I've torn down and implement the things that will turn this division around."

"Anything else?"

"Yes. You know from working with me before that I believe there is always 20% of the workforce that should be replaced. You and I need to talk in depth about each team leader. I already have two in mind that should be doing something else or should be gone. If we agree on a few, then next Thursday I will put one in a position to be fired on the spot. You need to be willing to do it."

"All right. I think I know the two you have in mind, and I agree."

"Now to more important things. You didn't warn Kathryn that I was here, did you?"

"No. I did talk to her. She's in an unhappy relationship, but not married. I think it will be good for you to visit her."

"I'll do that tomorrow afternoon, once I've finished my work with your team."

I wandered around the factory and made lots of notes while smiling and looking as friendly as I could. Claude and I shared dinner that evening at his home and we talked more of the plans for his factory. I hated what I was going to do to some people, but I had to realize that they would get their chance to work with the team. If they went down, it was by their own hands. There would be casualties.

*****

The following day I did more informal interviews and took more notes. The agenda for the meeting that Thursday was taking shape, but my mind kept changing focus to my pending visit to my old company. I still had lots of friends there and the General Manager, Pierre Drouard, was keeping my visit a surprise. I may have had lots of friends there, but there was only one I really wanted to see.

Finally, I drove the twenty minutes it took to get to my old company's facility. Pierre greeted me with open arms, and granted me the freedom to walk around and see old friends without an escort. Kat worked in a remote office where she managed the purchasing department, so I could see her last without giving away my presence.

After a half hour of hugs, handshakes, and those weird French cheek kisses, my nerves were on edge as I walked to Kat's office. Her entire office was enclosed in glass walls, so I could clearly see her without being noticed. She looked fantastic. Her smile was everything I had remembered. This was it. It was the moment I had built up in my mind since I first mentioned her to Traci so many months ago.