I felt truly sorry for the fat kid who got teased at school. I felt real empathy for cat who was being mistreated by the neighbor kids. My eyes watered at the horror as the Viet Nam war came into our home every night on our large Black and white console tv.
As a teenager, the more I learned about such atrocities, of man's inhumanity to man, the deeper my resolve became to do something about it. Why? Because I felt the pain of the innocent victims, I could see the anguish on their faces, I could hear their pitiful cries for help and their moaning over loved ones.
Is this environmetal?
Is it genetic?
Why do some of us walk through the forest only to be amazed at the intensity of it's magic while others seem oblivious to the miracles all around them?
I ask this because I feel that "compassion" is the missing ingrediant in the hearts and minds of so many Americans who so easily rationalize the horror done in their name with their tax dollars.
Is this something we can teach people?
Even those who don't know they don't have it?