From Russia, with love

On break in Budapest, not quite 36 hours following the U.S.-led air-strikes on the chemical weapons sites in Syria, I was abruptly stopped by someone who turned out to be a Russian representative. It occurred just as I’d finished breakfast and was attempting to leave the hotel restaurant.

Out of the blue came, “Hello!” and not knowing this guy’s status, I casually responded in similar fashion, and the whole matter could easily have ended there.

Instead, with near lightning speed, the fellow making the initial connection was interrupted by two associates seated at his table who seemed a bit shocked and embarrassed at the rather public overture. Because of the political atmosphere all of us were breathing, stakes were high. Yet, the lesson that would emerge is something I will cherish and never forget.

Via BBC and SKYNEWS, Kremlin irritation over the allied military action, coupled with earlier findings that a Soviet-era nerve agent had been placed in the U.K., were daily broadcast on Hungarian TV. Regardless, completely dismissive of world events and his associates attempted intervention, the confidently assertive Russkiy firmly stood his ground, determined to have my full attention. That’s when the real authority present was fully brought to bear.

With an arm strategically placed around his shoulder, the engaging envoy was gently, yet definitively secured. By his mom.

Whispering their native-tongue in his ear, the young boy who’d intercepted me along the way used English to tell me he was two years old, nearly three. With feigned disbelief, I replied that he’d appeared so much more grown up, and broad grins broke out on the faces of all involved.

The name of this plucky ambassador is Nikita. His traveling entourage includes a proud mother, Irina, along with Elena, a happily doting grandmother.

Names had been shared in seconds, and while it would be confirmed later, we didn’t need to say where each of us was from. Beyond words, there are moments of a fleeting intensity in the soul, when profoundly personal connection occurs and tears well up. They did for me.

Intentionally sharing breakfast again, and evening drinks too, it was apparent that the dreams and the limitations of this small Muscovite family are no different than mine and, perhaps, yours as well. For the record, I wholeheartedly support the tri-lateral response to what transpired in Khan Sheikhoun. Nevertheless, in all of this, my perception is that there are other forms of poison afflicting and affecting a much wider swath of humanity.

Unbridled diplomats like Nikita have no degrees or formal training. They are singularly lacking in any sense of protocol or social concern. They come into the world in the default position of openness and friendship, regardless of skin color or national creed.

Innocent and vulnerable youth are too often victims in our world. Yet, they’re also a powerful resource and antidote for tainted or jaded perspective, where whole populations are prejudged for the anthems they sing and the flags they salute.

The gift of unbiased overture needn’t be taught, but it can most assuredly be recaptured .

So it came to pass, a loquacious Russian toddler crossed my path and showed me that even if intrinsic human commonality seems lost, it may yet be rekindled, renewed, and prized forever.