I’m just a few hundred miles south of where I was last night but it feels like a different world. In many ways, it is. I’m in Pristina, Kosovo. For those of you who don’t know, it’s the last place in the world where they actually like Americans.
I just got back from dinner with a journalist that has lived here since he was born, through the war and is now a citizen in the independent Republic of Kosovo. He feared for his life on a daily basis during the war but kept fighting the fight. I asked him why, how? “In hopes that my children would never have to if I did,” he answered.
That was enough for me. Something clicked and that was all I needed.
Somewhere along the way, the job I do hasn’t changed but the reason why I keep on doing it did. It just took a guy from Kosovo, a fellow dad, to make that clear.