The life and times of Flavius. (In real life: first person America).

In 1995, I started the Adobe Foundation. Adobe operates an orphanage for abandoned children in Santana, Romania that opened its doors in 1998.

By March of that year, I'd already done many things outside the usual career path of Washington policy wonks: navigate post-communist bureaucracies in pursuit of a license to operate a home for children; bargain with the mayor and businessmen for possession of Santana's sole remaining international phone line; pick up hitch-hiking gypsy musicians with the intent of having them perform in the car (they did). Now I would bring home the infants to be cared for at the orphanage, Casa Adobe.

In the nearest hospital in Arad, I was escorted by the exceptionally capable doctor who cared for the smallest abandoned children, as we walked from room to room of screaming infants in white metal beds. Half were crying; a third were asleep. The rest were being fed, changed, or exhibiting what Europeans call hospitalismus--head banging, rocking, and other symptoms of prolonged institutionalization. (Conditions have much improved in this and similar facilities since then.)

A little one with dark curls and brown eyes was on his tummy, his head up, looking about, and--remarkably--giggling and burbling as though he thought life was just dandy. I picked him up; he grinned and cooed. "Who is this little boy?" I asked. He was Flavius, and almost five months old.

We brought him to Adobe just shy of his first birthday in October 1998. He had a curious habit the first few days of opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out without apparent cause. But he had a major-league appetite, an exceptionally sunny disposition, and his sense of humor was completely intact.

He also loved music. Adobe soon had two infants, Flavius and a blue-gray-eyed beauty, Laura, who is one month younger. I gave the infants their bottles in the evening, and listened to music seated in an old rocker. Laura liked the music and found it soothing. Flavius turned his head toward the speakers and smiled when Bach's Goldberg Variations and Beethoven's cello sonatas played. He waved his hands around to Sousa marches.

Later, Flavius crawled up to the speakers. When he started to walk, he stood in front of them moving his body ...