Envoy to Albania

On a sunny Sunday morning at the edge of the Adriatic, Archbishop Charles Brown ’81 and I are at an impasse. The dirt road we’ve followed for miles has narrowed into nonexistence, and our driver decides we’ll have to try a different route if we’re ever going to make it to Mass. So he jerks the car back in the opposite direction, and now we are faced with the rear end of a bus.

Its double doors swing open, and out pour 10, 20, 30 children dressed head-to-toe in the traditional garb of the Western Balkans, clutching tiny string instruments and felt hats and completely blocking our path.

The bishop laughs.

“I love Albania.”

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