In general, I trust, and have a degree of faith in the average person. Some might say the average person is ignorant, and then say 50% of people are even more ignorant than the average individual, due to average being the middle line of course. But I really believe in most people. I love meeting new people, striking up conversations, and learning something because of them. And I think our society would like to have a similar hope—something we often term “faith in humanity”.
Stories of valiant, heroic people fighting for others, a noble cause, a minority, an endangered species, warm our collective consciousness. We know that there is good somewhere inside those inflexible and often cold hearts of ours. So when instances arise where justice and good are accomplished, delight is present. There is a reason why Mother Teresa is a name we recognize.
Too often, however, our world is ravaged by the opposites of justice and goodness. We deal with bad-tempered shoppers while in line, honk at oblivious drivers who do not move quickly enough after the light changes, bark at our parents, and sever relationships because we refuse to take any blame. The list goes on, infinitely stocked with things with the potential to embitter us indefinitely.
Earlier this week I was brutally awakened to this reality. After finishing a meal on the patio at Keystone bar and grill, my friend Stephanie and I continued chatting about life, only pausing occasionally to comment when a noteworthy song came on. It had been a hot, sunny day until sunset, but it had cooled down, I had been fed, and the night was pleasant. That is, until a distinct and shrill screeching sound was heard suddenly from the intersection directly outside, followed by a thump that resembled a car accident.
Stephanie and I stood up, unsure of what it was. A car had stopped on South Market Street, and a few people standing nearby. As we approached the scene slowly, it became apparent a man was laying on the ground behind the car, slightly under the rear bumper, feet toward the curb. One of the members of the group standing there had been hit by the car, as they were crossing the road! We were about 30 feet from the intersection, when the driver of the vehicle suddenly decided to bolt. He sped south down South Market Street, as someone yelled, “Get his license plate!” The new white Toyota Corolla with a bike rack on the back rounded the corner barely slowing at the stop sign, and someone directed the Insomnia Cookie deliveryman to follow it. The deliveryman turned his vehicle around and sped off, but by then, he had already lost twenty seconds.
The car gone, we joined the group surrounding the man on the street. I asked if anyone had called 911; someone dialed. Stephanie knelt and softly asked the man if he could feel all his limbs. He seemed to nod yes, and someone else knelt down and began asking other questions. He didn’t have any visible injury or blood, didn’t say anything. Just seemed bewildered and stunned, not moving, laying on the ground. A security guard showed up, the man who had dialed 911 earlier got through, a crowd began to gather. Soon police arrived, then an ambulance, then more police. We returned to our table at Keystone but couldn’t find a way to clarify what we had just witnessed.
We sat there for probably an hour more, unable to return to normal life, until we had to—for it was late and a weeknight. I still carry a nauseous feeling in my stomach from that night. I now drive slower and more conservatively. Watching someone drive away after potentially paralyzing a stranger for life, caused me to lose some of my faith in humanity. The driver went on his way, while the injured man lay on the asphalt, paying the price of the other’s irresponsibility.
Do we, as sophisticated, nuanced, above average, educated, cultured individuals consider such actions deplorable? Or are we taking part, enabling, and participating in our own variations of similar ones? I am sorry for all the times I have acted similarly.
There is good in the world, I know there is. I will always be an advocate for it, but I can no longer put faith in humanity the way I used to. What will it take to regenerate this world of ours? Let it begin with me.
