What France Taught and Reminded Me About Family, Leadership, and Success

Opening Reflection – Balancing Achievement and Fulfillment

As I write this, I am somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean on my way home from France. Like many long flights, this one has provided plenty of time for reflection.

Over the past ten days, I have spent time with family in Provence and Paris while exploring some of the most remarkable places in France. I’ve visited the Pont du Gard, walked through Monet’s gardens at Giverny, stood atop the Eiffel Tower, toured Versailles, wandered the halls of The Louvre Museum, and experienced both the tranquility of the Provençal countryside and the energy of Paris.

Yet as I look back on the trip, I find myself thinking less about the places and more about the people. The Eiffel Tower was spectacular. Versailles was breathtaking. The Louvre was unforgettable. The food was extraordinary, and the scenery was everything I hoped it would be. But the greatest gift of this trip was not the destination or the attractions. It was time spent with the people who matter most.

Certain moments in life have a way of forcing reflection. They encourage us to look backwards with gratitude, forward with curiosity, and inward with honesty. They prompt questions that often bury themselves beneath the responsibilities and routines of everyday life. What matters most? What have I learned? What do I want the next chapter of my life to look like?

For my 60th birthday, my wonderful wife Laurie gave me a gift I will never forget. She created an experience that brought together our children, Jenn, Colin, and Sydney; our grandson, Everett; our son-in-law, James; my sister, Ruth; and Laurie’s sister, Elaine, in one place. As I get older, I have become increasingly convinced that wealth is not measured by what we own. It is measured by our relationships, our experiences, and the memories we create with the people we love.

Many of the CEOs, business owners, and leaders I work with spend years building successful organizations. They create opportunities for others, generate wealth, and achieve goals that once seemed impossible. One of the lessons I have learned from watching them is that achievement has a way of constantly moving the finish line. There is always another goal to reach, another acquisition to pursue, another expansion to fund, another challenge to solve, and another mountain to climb.

Ambition itself is not the problem. In fact, it is often one of the forces that drives progress. The challenge is that achievement and fulfillment are not the same thing. Too often, we become so focused on building a life that we forget to live it. This trip reminded me that fulfillment rarely comes from accomplishing more. More often, it comes from appreciating what we already have.

Many successful leaders quietly admit that the one thing they wish they had more of is time with the people they love. This trip reminded me why. The laughter around a dinner table, stories shared late into the evening, conversations that unfolded naturally because nobody was rushing off to the next obligation, reconnecting with family, and watching my grandson experience new places and new adventures became the moments that mattered most.

France simply provided the backdrop.

Domaine Villeblanche and the Gift of Being Together

The first week of our journey was spent in Provence, staying at Domaine Villeblanche, a beautiful villa a few kilometers outside Eygalières and a short drive from Saint-Rémy-de-Provence.

The property was extraordinary and, in many ways, became the heart of our trip. With a pool, two jacuzzis, a game room, an art room, outdoor dining spaces, walking paths, and plenty of room to spread out, it offered something for everyone. More importantly, it created opportunities for people to spend time together without the distractions and demands that normally pull families in different directions.

Some family members gravitated towards the pool while others preferred games, evening walks, or long conversations over meals. The property’s beauty didn’t come from the amenities themselves but from how naturally they brought people together.

Some of my favorite memories from the trip weren’t created at famous landmarks or historical sites. They happened around a table beside the pool during a game, on a walk through the property, or simply sitting outside talking as the sun disappeared over the Provençal countryside.

Looking back, Domaine Villeblanche became much more than a place to stay. For a week, it served as our gathering place, our home base, and the setting for many of the moments I will remember most. The landmarks were impressive, but the conversations, laughter, meals, and time spent together at the villa are what made the experience truly special. Spending an entire week together provided something increasingly rare in modern life: the opportunity to slow down, reconnect, and simply enjoy each other’s company.

Saint-Rémy and the Provence Lifestyle

Much of our time was spent exploring the surrounding region, particularly Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, which quickly became one of my favorite places in France. The markets, cafés, history, and relaxed pace of life created an atmosphere that felt both authentic and timeless. People seemed to care more about talking to each other than about their schedules, and meals felt like events instead of breaks.

We intentionally resisted the temptation to overschedule ourselves. We didn’t try to see everything or rush from attraction to attraction. Instead, we explored nearby villages, lingered over meals, and allowed conversations and experiences to unfold naturally.

Provence taught me something many Americans struggle with. Not every moment needs to be optimized. Not every hour needs to be productive. Sometimes, the best use of time is simply being present.

The weather, however, had other plans. It was unseasonably hot, and there were days when the sun felt downright oppressive. Thankfully, our villa had air conditioning and a pool.

One of the highlights of our stay was having several local chefs come to the villa and prepare meals for us. Each chef brought a unique style, personality, and perspective. Using many of the same local ingredients, each created a completely different experience. I found it fascinating how talented people can produce dramatically different outcomes when given similar resources.

History and Legacy

One of the things I loved most about France was the way history remains alive.

In Avignon, we toured the Palais des Papes, which served as the popes’ residence for nearly a century. Walking through the massive structure felt like entering another era. Nearby, we crossed the famous Pont d’Avignon, a bridge that was never fully completed because of the challenges posed by the Rhône River.

What struck me was that history didn’t treat its incompleteness as failure. Instead, the unfinished bridge became part of the story. Not everything must be completed perfectly to have lasting value. Occasionally, our imperfections become part of our legacy.

One of the most impressive sites we visited was the Pont du Gard, the remarkable Roman aqueduct built nearly 2,000 years ago. Standing before it, I found myself wondering how people living in the second century could have conceived, designed, and constructed something so ambitious.

The scale is extraordinary. The engineering is remarkable. The durability is astonishing.

What impressed me most, however, was why it was built. The aqueduct carried water to growing communities, improving sanitation, reducing disease, and enhancing the quality of life. Two thousand years later, it still stands as proof of what is possible when talented people focus on solving meaningful problems that improve the lives of others. The builders are long forgotten. The service they provided is not.

Art and Creativity

Another unforgettable experience was Carrières des Lumières. Massive projections of artists such as Picasso and Frida Kahlo filled the walls of an enormous quarry while music echoed throughout the cavern. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced and demonstrated how the French often blur the line between art and experience.

Later in the trip, we visited Giverny. Walking through Claude Monet’s gardens was like stepping inside the mind of a creative genius. The flowers, ponds, and landscapes that inspired some of the world’s most famous paintings were every bit as beautiful as I imagined. Monet reminded me that creativity often comes from seeing ordinary things differently.

On our second-to-last day, we visited the Louvre Museum. Like most visitors, I was eager to see the Mona Lisa. After navigating through crowds of people with the same objective, I finally stood before one of the most famous paintings in the world.

What surprised me most was how small it was.

Yet what stayed with me wasn’t the Mona Lisa itself. It was everything surrounding it. Room after room was filled with masterpieces from some of the greatest painters and sculptors in human history. The Louvre is far more than a museum. It is a celebration of legacy.

As I walked through the galleries, I found myself asking a question that leaders, parents, business owners, and builders should occasionally ask themselves: What are we creating today that will continue to have value after we’re gone?

Paris and Perspective

After a wonderful week together at Domaine Villeblanche, the family portion of the trip came to an end. Our children, grandson, and son-in-law headed home, while Laurie, her sister, and I continued on to Paris for the final few days of the journey. My sister had already returned home earlier in the week.

The transition felt fitting. Provence had been about family, connection, and slowing down. Paris offered a different experience—one centered on history, art, culture, and the energy of one of the world’s great cities.

Unfortunately, I also had the opportunity to watch my beloved Arsenal lose to PSG in a penalty shootout. For me, it was painful. For virtually everyone around me, it was euphoria.

I had heard stories about how Paris celebrates a major football victory, but seeing it firsthand was something entirely different. The city erupted. People filled the streets singing, cheering, hugging strangers, and celebrating together. As disappointed as I was by the result, I couldn’t help but admire the passion.

I eventually made the climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower. The heat was intense, the crowds were overwhelming, and there were moments when I wondered whether it was worth the effort. Then I reached the top, and suddenly none of the inconvenience mattered. The view was breathtaking.

Looking out across Paris, I found myself thinking about Gustave Eiffel. What many people forget is that the proposal for the Eiffel Tower was deeply controversial. Many prominent artists and intellectuals hated the idea. Today, it is the most recognizable symbol of France. Visionary ideas are often unpopular before they become obvious.

Versailles and the Dangers of Power

If Monet represented creativity, Versailles represented power.

The scale is difficult to comprehend. Even by modern standards, it is breathtaking. Standing there, I understood why Louis XIV built it. Versailles wasn’t merely a palace. It was a statement projecting authority, wealth, and permanence.

Yet history delivered a different lesson.

As magnificent as Versailles is, I found myself thinking less about the king and more about the people whose labor made it possible. Versailles is not simply a monument to achievement. It is also a reminder that power can build extraordinary things while simultaneously creating blind spots. While I was blown away by the vision, craftsmanship, and scale involved in creating Versailles, I also found myself thinking about the burden placed upon ordinary people to make such a project possible. It is a reminder that leaders must never become so captivated by what they can build that they lose sight of those who make it possible.

Coming Home

As our plane carries us back home, I find myself thinking about France as a whole.

It is an extraordinary country filled with passionate, creative, and proud people. What struck me most was the contrast between Paris and the countryside. The city is vibrant, ambitious, energetic, and constantly moving. The countryside feels peaceful, spacious, and timeless.

The people we met in Provence were incredibly welcoming. Paris felt different. Like many major cities around the world, life there moves at a faster pace. The streets are crowded, the traffic can be heavy, and drivers seem to treat lane markings and traffic rules as useful suggestions rather than firm commitments. More than once, I found myself appreciating that I wasn’t behind the wheel. If I’m being honest, the people we encountered in Provence seemed more relaxed, more patient, and generally more welcoming—though perhaps that’s simply the difference between life in a major world capital and life in a small town.

Yet there were also moments when I found myself wondering if the French have figured out a few things that many of us still struggle to understand. They understand the value of slowing down. They treat meals as experiences rather than interruptions. They invest deeply in relationships. They preserve history. They celebrate beauty. They create space for enjoyment.

Most importantly, they seem to understand that life is not meant to be rushed.

As I think about this trip, I realize that France simply gave me a series of reminders. The Louvre reminded me that our work can outlive us. Monet reminded me of the power of creativity. The Eiffel Tower reminded me of the power of vision. The Pont du Gard reminded me of the enduring value of service. Versailles reminded me of both the possibilities and dangers of power.

But my family reminded me why any of those things matter in the first place.

Earlier, I wrote that achievement has a way of constantly moving the finish line, and that ambition is not the problem. The challenge is that achievement and fulfillment are not the same thing. France reminded me of that.

The moments I will remember most from this trip did not involve checking something off a list. They were experiences, conversations, shared meals, and moments with family. As the miles pass beneath us and home grows closer, I find myself taking inventory—not of what I bought or what I saw, but of the moments I want to remember. The laughter around a dinner table. Conversations that stretched late into the evening. Reconnecting with family. Watching my grandson experience new places and new adventures. The simple joy of having everyone together for that week in Provence.

Those are the memories that will stay with me long after the details of the trip begin to fade.

At sixty, I’m increasingly convinced that time is the most valuable asset any of us possesses. We can make more money, build another business, recover from mistakes, and reinvent ourselves more than once. But none of us gets more time. We need to balance achievement with fulfillment. We need to value relationships and experiences with the people we love more thoughtfully.

France was extraordinary—the history, the art, the countryside, the energy of the city. But the greatest gift wasn’t France itself. It was the opportunity to spend ten days with the people I love most.

And that may be the most valuable souvenir I bring home.