Synopsis
Zeitgeist refers to the mood of a particular period of history. Is the current mood to create chaos such that democracy is exposed as having inadequate systems to moderate divisiveness, thus clearing the way for the rise of autocracy in America?
After selling his sizeable ranch, Stephan Pokorsky moved from Florida to Poland. Within a few months he sent a desperate message to Dan Trix and Elaine. Fly to Warsaw ASAP. It wasn’t soon enough. Stash is dead by the time they arrive.
Stash had become a strong supporter of pro-democracy political candidates in Poland. Stash’s wife thought the Russians were responsible for his death. When Trix returns to Florida and begins to dig for answers, he learns the FBI considers him a prime suspect in a multi-million-dollar scheme to defraud the government through the Paycheck Protection Program. He will soon be indicted.
Chapter 1.
The delusions we live with to convince ourselves of our righteousness.
You can’t judge a hotel by its nightlight. Or lack thereof.
Maybe that’s the only amenity the Intercontinental didn’t have. One option was to open the drapes but the Palace of Culture and Science next door—Stalin’s gift to Poland but really a monument to himself—had night lighting sufficient to require its own hydroelectric plant. The other option was to leave the drapes closed and bounce off end tables and bed stands and decide your shins have had enough and leave the bathroom light on. Either option leads to a lousy night’s sleep and reminds you how important a nightlight can be.
If I don’t sleep well, I have a grumpy next day.
We were in Warsaw. I was grumpy.
The concierge in the club room at the Intercontinental wasn’t quite sure what we were talking about when I asked about nightlights. She asked someone to check with housekeeping. No nightlights there, whatever they are. Maybe Bartek could help. He would be in any minute. It was fifteen minutes, but that’s a Polish minute.
“You are here before I have a chance to come to you. You are Americans. I know you like nightlights. I know you want to see some of Warsaw. This is a chance for two things,” Bartek said.
Only one other couple munched on croissants and sipped coffee. Still he spoke softly. Maybe his manner, maybe an acquired courtesy.
He jotted directions on a card to a lamp and light shop not far from the hotel.
He then ushered us to the elevator and iterated with gestures where we should go.
Although we had a to-do-must-see list, finding a nightlight rocketed to #1 on the chart.
Elaine insisted. I was very grumpy.
Add to the mix her skepticism regarding the wisdom of the trip and you don’t exactly have the makings of a great Hallmark vacation.
We were in Warsaw because of Stash. His full name was Stephan Pokorski. His nickname was derived from a moustache that could double as a whisk broom. We met him while trying to determine why street people were being killed in Sarasota. Stash had sold a large Florida ranch for upward of $40 million and moved to Poland. Stash had provided money for the homeless, so we had gone to Poland the year before to see if we could see the connection between Stash and the murders.
Locating him the first time we came to Poland wasn’t easy.
Lester and I finally found Stash at his restaurant/bar, Little Big Horn.
Stash also had a vacation home in Spearfish, South Dakota. He fell in love with the area and the long-gone traditions of the Plains Indians. Doubtful many Poles understood the significance of the Little Big Horn. To them, it was just a cool name.
Stash’s father had instilled within him the notion that if you are small, you get pushed around. If you’re big, you do the pushing. Not all pushing is bad. You can push to help people.
Stash was skeptical of the efficacy of government efforts in the U.S. to impact the homeless problem. He wasn’t certain that his direct-giving approach was the ultimate solution but he surely was willing to give it a chance.
When he had spoken with us in his bar, over bigos stew and Zywiec beer, he told us he also wanted to do something in Poland to help. At that point he wasn’t sure what that would be. Philanthropy in Poland was in the nascent stage, having been modestly formalized for only twenty years. In the public mind, there was no difference between charity—tossing a złoty in a tin cup—and philanthropy, an organized, systematic approach to promoting the welfare of others.
Diving into a swimming pool filled with sixty-degree water gets your attention. So does receiving a letter with plane tickets enclosed. The note read,
“Your room at the Intercontinental is pre-paid. Come as soon as you can. Stash.”
We were still in the uncertain stage of the Covid-19 pandemic. Well now, that’s not very informative. The whole thing had been uncertain. Infections rising and falling and multiple vaccines available but which was best, and how long would they last, and would they fight off evil variants, and governments changing the protection protocols as would a Kardashian change lipstick.
There was some certainty in the current phase of uncertainty. The Polish government would allow foreign travelers in the country if they were in one of a limited number of categories. Elaine and I were in the category that allowed us entrance because we had a “work contract entrusting a performance of work to a foreigner.”
We had negative Covid tests two days before we departed the U.S. and a negative rapid test when we arrived. However, all immigration agents are not created equal. It took a couple tries and a huddle before our work contract was recognized as valid for entry.
They asked us what our work was. Management consulting. You are here to be management consultant?
We had no idea why we were there but replied, “Yes. Important work.”
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