It is morning here in Albania and the birds are loving every blessed second of it.  There may be a territorial war going on over housing in the gutters, I can’t be sure.  The activity of life where city meets farm is fascinating.  From the view provided by my window I can see a team of three earth-movers working on a culvert installation.  Not fifty yards away there is a family working to keep their cattle and sheep from taking too much initiative.  The crest of the hill in view shoulders the burden of the majority of Sauk’s traffic.  

When I was a child you could go into Puyallup and pick berries from Love’s Farm.  Most of Puyallup is like a postcard from Sprawl these days.  It will be interesting to see Sauk in a generation or so.  I can’t help but feel like the Albanians won’t regret to some degree this time of progress.  Cell phones, automobiles and access to high calorie food, while sure signs of progress and growth toward the Western ideals which are promoted through television and the internet, are hollow substitutes for the cultural inheritance which is being exchanged for them.  

Facebook does not promote community just as McDonalds does not sell food.

The micrommunity of the Ballard Church in Seattle is definitely on to something.  A visit to Hannah McHugh or the Lansdownes will shed light on what I am talking about.  I always had difficulty appreciating what was happening there before I left the states.  Here at the school there is a common kitchen where everyone eats together.  Bathrooms are shared.  Everyone has tasks assigned to them which benefit the whole place.  They have Foosball and ping-pong for playing together.  It is like family, only bigger.  It is like God’s family, only smaller.