Schultz: What now for the orphans of Russia?
I never will forget the first time I met a Russian orphan who had just been adopted by American parents.
It was 2003, and I was on a flight out of Moscow. A little boy with big brown eyes sat in the seat next to me. A man sat on the other side of the boy, and it was clear from their clenched hands that they were traveling together.
I was scribbling in a notebook when I noticed that the child was leaning over, trying to read. I smiled and asked his name.
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