Fate and Destiny Pt. 01

The dalliance led to an on and off again affair that Marsha and I maintained for five years, even after she married a high powered Boston lawyer from Dorne, Locke, Windsor & Furbish. One of the success factors for the affair was secrecy. While trust could have been an issue, it certainly wasn't around keeping our trysts concealed. She had her reputation in the media to consider, and I had my Dillon and corporate life to maintain; neither one of us wanted the stigma of infidelity ruining our lives. One might have thought the potential damage sufficient motivation to stifle our carnal desire for one another. It wasn't.

I heard the term 'fuck buddy' around the office one day, and realized that this was what we were to each other. We were affectionate and loving friends that occasionally got together every few weeks for the thrill and risk of it, and fucked each other's brains out. After our satisfaction, we'd dress, depart the hotel or motel separately, and go back to leading perfectly normal and respectable lives for another week or month. There was no desire by either of us to marry or do anything other than what we did every few weeks.

To keep our rendezvous covert from Pearl, my master coordinator, I'd schedule time at Triax, MOSC, or a meeting with some fictitious university professor at one end of the Charles River or the other. Marsha could likewise slip away to screen a potential interview candidate for her show. Neither one of us acted out of character. Over time the thrill went out of the affair and things became too routine. One day at a romantic lunch looking down the Charles River from the Cambridge Hyatt, we mutually decided to call it quits. No guilt. No remorse.

We saw each other frequently in connection with Marsha's television news coverage. I was one of her favorite 'characters' to call on, always ready with a pithy quote or sound bite for whatever she was trying to put together. Our affection for each just took a different tack. Later, she'd be one of the few people to sympathize with what happened.

A special time for the Craig family became the holidays. We had enlarged the parsonage at our own expense and members from both my and Margaret's family would come to Dillon at Christmas. Our children grew up with the excitement and awe of not only Christmas, but also all the cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and such that came and added their presence to the season.

We also created a tradition to be at our newly acquired vacation home in Kennebunkport for Independence Day. Dean and his family were there too, just a short distance away in their own ocean front home. Along with a flock of relatives from both families we'd have the largest cookout and all-day party anyone had ever seen. I bought a forty-foot sloop, and we'd take various combinations of visitors out for tours of the area. Dean's older children organized games for the younger kids. At night we got the entire entourage on the sloop and sailed into the town harbor where we had front row seats for the fire works display. The time was pure wonderment for the children, and I found such joy watching their faces as the day unfolded.

Marsha wasn't my only flirtation. Somehow, once I opened myself to the possibility, available women were just there: a waitress in London, a consultant to Triax I was with in Toronto, and even a New Age minister I took a class from in San Diego, to mention only several of the attractions I bowed to. I was discrete, as were my liaisons. Except for Marsha, they were infrequent and enjoyable one-night-stands.

After one of my assignations, on a flight back from Rome, I studied my inner motivations that had made Maria, a young airline attendant, so attractive and desirable. Why was I so willing to jump into the bed of a gorgeous and passionate woman not even my oldest daughter's age. I felt if I could understand myself I might have some real insight into the deeper feelings men and women had when they strayed from their committed relationships. It was like me to try to take experiences from one part of my life, and apply them to another part. Had I lost the ability to extract wisdom from experiences; were they only past facts with no learnings for me?

I didn't like the list I'd drawn up by the end of that flight. Lust, sexual craving – even addiction, and ego gratification are emotions that are hard to admit to. Power over someone, even for a brief time; did I not have power within my own family. What I did have to admit was that I was good at the snow job and the one-night stand. I was honing my skills, yet part of me wanted none of it.

I analyzed what was really bothering me, and more than anything I discovered that I didn't feel any guilt. I actually felt guilty that I didn't feel guilt. I wanted to feel some remorse for each of my peccadilloes, but I knew deep inside that it wasn't a temporary lapse of loyalty or indiscretion on my part and had therefore dismissed the act as not worthy of further consideration. I knew I'd do the same thing all over again if the opportunity presented itself.

Later after my Rome flight landed I went to the office and then home; no one noticed anything worth mentioning about my demeanor. I apparently passed muster with everyone, just as I had after my frequent flings with Marsha.

What I knew inside and what was going on in my head were unseen to the outside world. I had my own world of secrets and lustful thoughts inside my head. I actually laughed deep inside when I found myself attracted to one of the young women in the congregation that came through the receiving line after the Sunday service ended. She told me my remarks about holding a forgiving attitude about Judas had particularly touched her, since she'd been harboring ill thoughts about a boyfriend from a recent breakup. In the few seconds as she spoke and looked into my eyes I had created an elaborate fantasy where we were taking turns ravaging each other in sexual delight. In the end I smiled and thanked her for her nice comments about my talk.

A Tidal Shift

"In human life there is constant change of fortune;
and it is unreasonable to expect an exemption from
the common fate. Life itself decays, and all things
are daily changing." - Plutarch

Laura was a beautiful young woman close to thirty years my junior, one whose knowledge of her beauty hadn't given her that jaded outlook on life and her interactions with other people that I'd often found in other gorgeous women. She was about five foot five, trim, busty, and had long brunette hair that could have come right out of a shampoo commercial.

I felt electricity between Laura and me – a raw sexual energy that connected us together on so many levels. I'd felt it with Marsha a few years earlier too. I'd felt it the instant Laura walked into my therapy office, and as our first session progressed I could feel the energy flow between us. After I'd been aware of it, I studied both Laura and her husband to see if they were reacting to what I felt in any way. At first I detected nothing, but then Laura started to look increasingly into my eyes and I felt 'she knew' – we both knew there was a deep, inner connection between us, probably one that we'd have to do something about.

Gary, dressed in chinos and a sport shirt, looked like the boy next door grown into a successful small town entrepreneur. He was closer to forty years old. In our first session, I discovered he was a stickler for quality and precision, often talked with his subscribers in one way or another about what they wanted to read about, and was quick to make improvements he learned about. A little over six feet tall, he had an air around him that suggested he had a lot of work to do and miles to go before he slept.

As we ended the session we stood, and I reached out and shook Gary's hand, a simple gesture of friendship. He rose and turned too collect his jacket and note pad. In that short space of time I touched Laura's hand in a similar gesture. The electric shock that ran through my body was palpable and this time I knew I'd betrayed the shudder of joy I felt. I felt her hand squeeze mine – longer than the simple handshake required – we were unwilling to withdraw our hands from each other. It was chemistry and electricity all rolled into one brief moment. She knew it. I looked into her eyes – they were locked on mine clearly wondering if I was feeling the same emotions she was. We continued to hold hands, only another second and then another. As Gary turned back to us, we dropped our hands, holding the gaze a fraction of second longer. We both nodded knowingly to each other without saying a word. In hindsight, I think our fates were sealed in that instant.

Shortly after my return from Rome, Ray Gibbons pulled me aside while I was at my office at Menthen Oil. "Jon, I need you to take on a special assignment for the board. I'm asking you as CEO and as a friend. I'm going to have to retire for health reasons very soon, and we need a replacement. To be blunt about it, I don't think we have anyone in the company or on the Board that can move into my shoes and keep the shareholders happy. I need you to find my replacement."

I accepted the assignment and together the two of us started a secretive search for a new CEO. Fortunately, I was able to take time from my other jobs to devote to this one. We engaged Hedrick & Struggles, the well-known executive search firm, and soon they were underway on this mission. The search took over a year, and yet somehow we managed to keep it secret from the media and everyone else in the company.

Ray and his family held the majority of the voting shares of the stock and controlled the Board. Thus, when we settled on Ken Ward as our pick for the CEO post, it was really a done deal. By that time too, Ray's cancer had become more obvious, even with the cosmetics he'd started to use to reduce the pallor he was showing. His chemo and radiation treatments also had produced a hair thinning. Just as the outward signs of his health became unavoidably obvious to the media, we announced the new CEO.

Ray asked me to help Ken get oriented into Menthen, and I spent a considerable amount of the following year doing just that. Ray went into retirement and died six months after Ken took over the post. I presided at the funeral of my friend and colleague; it was one of the hardest tasks I'd ever had to do. I'd become almost as close to Ray as I was to Dean and my own family; even knowingabout his declining health, his death was a shock and I grieved.

I bounced back and forth mostly between Triax and Menthen for the next few years. The other boards I was on were less demanding. We hired two additional ministers at the Dillon Free Church, and I spent time getting them onboard and up to speed on our strategic plans and operations for the organization. We were still growing at around thirty percent a year.

I'd curtailed the counseling work a little so I could spend time on the corporate side of my life, in part by not taking on new clients despite increasing demand. To ease the burden in this theater of my life, I joined in partnership with Tom Rodgers, another counselor in Dillon and a member of my congregation. Tom also had authored a book on making difficult marriages work, focusing especially on the ravages alcoholism induced into relationships and how to deal with this situation. We had similar approaches to counseling and sympathies about life, so he was a natural partner in my practice. Tom's office was downstairs in the same professional building, a fact that made passing patients to him easier.

I relished several flirtations during these years, but I kept things out of the bedroom and confined to dubious and playful interactions and conversational repartee. In hindsight I could see I wanted to try to heal some part of my essence, that part that thought it acceptable to engage in brief trysts or flirt with potential 'fuck buddies.' I made myself busy with the three major parts of my life with no time for playing around. I was conscious of many other things in my life beside sex, a fact that made some the long sexual dry spells tolerable: these included power, connections with 'names,' a first-class life style, being in demand; and being worshipped as a leader and messiah by so many people. I tried to make these more satisfying aphrodisiacs than my sexual romps had ever been. Indeed, some the hiatuses were long; Margaret struggled with menopause and that part of our relationship waned much more than it waxed. Since I was occupied with my other vanities, I barely missed the loss of intimacy at home.

I should have sat and more deeply analyzed my own marriage and relationships. I should have gotten outside help. I had the tools and know-how; after all I was the expert. I also knew better than to self diagnose, particularly when I dismissed the gnawing ill-at-ease feelings I had about certain areas of my life.

Instead my focus shifted almost entirely outside my household and marriage. In my fifties, Margaret and I became empty nesters when our daughters were long gone and Patrick started college. Margaret had a full schedule every day between church, charitable, and civic projects, all things I encouraged and approved of. She was one of the pillars of Dillon and I was glad she could show the family flag even when I was in some other country halfway around the world.

Joy, my oldest daughter, brought me up short one Thanksgiving by asking me when we were alone, "Dad, are you and mom happy? You seem so distant from each other." Joy was a newly minted social worker becoming skilled at dealing with troubled families. Her observation was as much professional as it was familial, and I was shocked that she saw anything amiss that would even raise such a question.

Of course, I brushed the question off with explanations about my busy schedule and life style, a few words about the work at Menthen Oil and Triax, and Margaret's busy schedule with Dillon events and groups. I assured her we were happy with our lives. My words seemed to satisfy Joy, who shrugged and shifted to another topic, but they did herald for me the need to be more attentive and circumspect in how I behaved around the family – to be less distant, more involved, and more present in the household, especially when the children were home. Her question also made me realize that all was not right with our marriage – this after over thirty years.

I recall asking Pearl to schedule me 'at home' more often in the coming weeks leading up to New Years day. In those four or five weeks I only had to be out of the country on one trip, and I resolved to be home for dinner every evening whether or not Margaret was going to be there. I think I saw more of her in that December than I had in the previous eleven months of the year. She liked the change and told me so.

Joy triggered my guilt at not being around the family. Here I preached about togetherness and closeness, and helped couples in my counseling achieve some modicum of this in their couplehood, yet I didn't have the same elements in my own relationship. What part of my own upbringing and personality played a role in this? I didn't choose to answer that question for the moment.

With Pearl's help I went overboard at Christmas, obviously substituting expensive gifts for my past absences from the family. We were a materialistic enough family that the substitution was welcomed all around, and even laughed at the point when I explicitly stated the fact to Heather and Patrick on Christmas morning. Even Pearl benefitted from my guilt and generosity, a delicious combination she called it.

I labeled my daughter's question 'Joy's Happiness Question.' Was I happy in my marriage? Was I happy at all? I had a maudlin hour or two on a flight back to Boston from the west coast – a red eye. I was tired, drank too much on the flight, and started to doodle notes and words for my coming Sunday sermon.

I got sidetracked and started a few notes on Joy's question. I realized happiness was illusive for me. Things, activities, hobbies, events, and people outside me gave me great pleasure and invoked my happiness: flying, the corporate deals, knowing so many of the people in the news from almost every walk of life, being in the news as well as on television frequently, the image as a mover and shaker that I'd crafted over the years, the large home on the ocean in Kennebunk, the trips to the Caribbean or Aspen, and on and on. I was where 99.99 percent of the world wanted to be. 'They' wanted to be like me. I had it all – the good life.

My sermon the following Sunday talked about taking action, not letting the grass grow under your feet, taking risks, and setting intentions for what you want your life to be like. Of course, everyone in the two services I presided over – more than a thousand people – knew I walked the talk. I was their role model, and although I didn't say it, the sermon rang out 'Be like me.' I felt a surge of power from the comments I got from so many people in the receiving lines after the services.

What I failed to acknowledge in considering Joy's question was that I had a dark side. A side of me that courted depression, judged people harshly, made war against people that didn't agree with my thinking, and found most people wanting in their motivations and accomplishments. This was my ego staking out the high ground for my superiority. My religious teachers had warned me of the strength of the ego – particularly my own, and the dangers it could leave me to if I wasn't aware. Even Dean chided me once in a while for becoming power happy.

After New Years day, Dean and I flew to China for the first time, and we had about a $100 million dollars burning a hole in our pocket to invest in the construction of some new manufacturing facilities that would build custom computers and their component parts, including printed circuits and computer chips. China was rapidly becoming the new forefront of technology and low cost manufacturing.

We were wined and dined in extraordinary fashion, and no part of our visit was left unattended. Concubines were even provided for our enjoyment, however, both Dean and I graciously acknowledged the high-class call girls, but politely turned down the delicious entertainment. No one, including the beautiful women, seemed to be upset by our decision, so little was made of our choice. I wondered what I would have done if I'd been alone, but in declining our host's offer I felt I'd taken the moral high ground.

Dean and I talked on the flight home about the offer, and how 'matter of fact' it had been by the entrepreneurs seeking our investment. With chuckles and raised eyebrows we both acknowledged the sexuality of the two women brought to the dinner table that night, both stunningly beautiful oriental women that appeared thoroughly westernized and that spoke without even a trace of Asian accent. I thought of the earlier sexual infractions in my life as Dean and I talked, and somehow I thought Dean might have had similar experiences. He'd had some secretaries and assistants that made one's head turn and that made my eyes roll around in their sockets. We just didn't kiss and tell. I was curious if Dean was as pure as he made out to be, or if that was just a good façade. I couldn't have resisted the temptations he had at his fingertips. Nonetheless, I didn't ask. The two of us had clearly adopted a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy between us on that aspect of our lives.

My mind shifted to other bribes and settlements that might need to happen to make the deal go through. It wouldn't be the first time I knew of some questionable distributions of cash or goods to grease the skids of some deal we were undertaking. I was the ethics advisor to the board, and found myself amazed at how often the other managers and board members came to me with similar tough decisions. Bribes to overseas 'officials' seemed to top the list, even before questions of price fixing, equitable treatment of staff, or interoffice relationships. Most of the time we weighed in on a choice that maximized benefit for the company.