The Traveler's Gift: Seven Decisions that Determine Personal Success

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. "please get off the floor and sit in this chair."Slowly, David opened his eyes and looked directly into the face of a man who seemed vaguely familiar. A small, older gentleman, his short almost-white hair was neatly combed, contrasting with the slightly disheveled appearance of his clothes. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up at the elbows, and his red-and-black-striped tie was loosened at the collar. Atop his sharp nose sat a pair of round spectacles that were thick enough to make his clear blue eyes seem huge."This is a very inconvenient time for me," the man said. "Just sit right there and be very quiet." Turning quickly, he walked toward a huge hand-carved desk. Settling himself behind it and picking up a stack of papers, he grumbled, "As if I don't have enough happening right now."Confused, David glanced around. He was sitting on a large Persian rug, his back against the wall of an ornate, high-ceilinged room. Directly to his left was the hard-backed mahogany chair that had been indicated by the man who was now intently sorting papers across the room. To his right, a globe stood on a pedestal in front of an unlit fireplace.Easing up and into the chair, David said, "I'm thirsty."Without looking up, the man replied, "I'll get you something in a bit. For now, please be quiet.""Where am I?" David asked."Look here now." The man cursed as he slammed the stack of papers down on the desk and pointed a finger at David. "I politely asked you to be quiet, and I'm expecting you to do it. You are in Potsdam, Germany, a suburb of Berlin in a free zone presently controlled by the Red army. It is Tuesday, July 24, 1945." Taking a deep breath and appearing to calm down, he reached for his work again.Separating the papers, he said, "There now, sit and chew on that for a while."David wrinkled his brow. I must be in a hospital, he thought. This is a creepy old place. And if this guy is my doctor, he has a horrible bedside manner. Sitting absolutely still, trying to collect himself, David watched the man at the desk.Why would he tell meI'm in Germany? he wondered. And the Red army thing? I must have a head injury. Is this some kind of psychiatric exam?He tugged at the collar of his dark blue sweatshirt. Uncomfortably warm, David noticed a water pitcher and some glasses on a small table near a window directly across the room. He stood up and walked slowly to the water. From the corner of his eye, David saw the man behind the desk briefly glance up, frown, and go back to his work.David quietly poured a glass of water and, drinking it, looked out the window. He was obviously in a second-floor room of this building or house or whatever it was. Below him, no more than fifty feet away, was the bank of a slow-moving river. There were no people boating, no children playing-in fact, he didn't see anyone at all. "Something isn't right here," David muttered as a breeze crossed his face and rustled the drapes beside him.Reaching his arm through the open window, David was almost startled to find that the air was warm and humid. Then he realized what had been bothering him. It was the air itself. The air waswarm. Every tree within sight was full of leaves, and the grass in the yard below him was green. In the dead of winter?Putting his glass down on the table, David placed his hands on the windowsill and pushed his whole upper body through the opening. Yes, it was hot, he decided, and pulled himself back inside.What kind of place is this? David wondered. Why are the windows open in the first place? As hot as it is, the air conditioning should be running full blast.As he moved back toward his seat, David looked around for a thermostat. There wasn't one that he could see. The only temperature-controlling device was an old heater that someone had put in the fireplace.Not that that heater would do anyone any good, he thought. It's so old, it looks like it could have been made in . . . , Da