The Evolution of Empathy

BACK TO THE BEGINNING
My 5th grade teacher's social studies experiment went a little like this: she broke us up into small groups and handed each group a stack of cards. Each card contained an ethically based question. You would draw a card, read it to yourself, choose a member of your group that you thought would most likely respond "Yes" or "No" to your question, and would then write down, on a piece of paper, what you thought that person's response would be.

When another student read his card, and directed his question at me, I felt a sort of anxiety I've seldom experienced in the years since.

"If you were an elementary school principal, and a student wanted to enroll who was HIV-positive, would you allow him or her?"

I honest-to-God felt my pulse quicken. My soul split into a million directions. The neurons in my brain were simultaneously processing every bit I'd heard on the news regarding the illness.

Before you judge me too harshly for even being at all conflicted -- rather than shouting a resounding "YES!" -- you should know a few things about the timeline:

1. HIV and AIDS were still very new to the public limelight. Treatments were highly experimental, and people weren't living for decades with medication (but rather were dying slow and painful deaths).
2. We weren't yet sure how it was transmitted. Sexually and through blood contact, sure, but there were still whispers of saliva, sweat, tears, sneezes, coughs and even mosquito bites.
3. This all occurred just a couple towns over from the school district that had shunned Ryan White a few years prior. And so: while internally I felt an abundance of empathy with what I witnessed first-hand, the world around me was awash with rumors and fear.

I couldn't choose. I told my classmate that there were a lot of factors at play, and I'd really need more information on how the virus is transmitted. But in the end, I couldn't dance around the issue. I couldn't offer a "grey" answer.

"It's yes or no," he reminded me.

I repeated my distaste for having to choose, but said that in the interest of "protecting" the other students until we knew more about how you "catch it," my response was "no."

It was a decision I immediately regretted.

I cannot forget the look on my classmate's face, even after all of these years, as he showed me the piece of paper where he'd written down, "She'll say yes."

"If there was anyone at this school who would've said 'yes,' I thought it'd be you," he said.

He looked at me for a moment, a quiet disappointment on his face, and a silence fell between us.

I was ashamed.

It was truly a pivotal moment in my life, and I decided -- then and there -- to always strive to err on the side of kindness, even in the face of fear.

Because, more often than not, it is the right thing to do.

AND SO IT GOES
I haven't always succeeded, to be sure. I am more sinner than saint, and live every day in conflict between who I am, and who I want to be. But I never lose sight of the latter and that, I think, is perhaps most important.

It's an idea that screams at me now. This desire to do something more, to help people, to make the world a better place.

I've felt it every time I've read about a Syrian refugee losing their life when trying to escape their war-torn county. I felt it when, last Friday morning, I read about a bombing in Baghdad. And then again when I was reading about a similar attack in Beirut. I was reading about the 40+ lives lost there when the article vanished from the front page, and was replaced with stories regarding the series of attacks unfolding in Paris..

The feeling deepened, my heart transported across the ocean and delivered to the people of France.

And I feel it now, no less strongly than last Friday, as I see governors around the United States (what is it now? 27?) closing their doors to Syrian refugees -- for fear that one might be a terrorist in disguise.

I understand their fear. I have felt that fear.

And it disgusts me.

GIVE ME YOUR TIRED
Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

Associated Press

We could discuss, in great detail, the ironies inherent in the inscription on the Statue of Liberty, gifted to us by France in 1886, and the words and actions of those 27 governors. But you've heard this argument before, and a great many of you are tired of hearing it.

We could talk about the story of a poor Middle Eastern couple turned away from every door they approached when attempting to find a home for their son, some 2,016 years ago. But I'd wager you've heard that one before too, and are currently busy with your related shopping lists. 

So let's return to my childhood for a minute. There were two lessons repeatedly taught to me by my parents that I have long mistaken as being universal. But the more I read the headlines, the more I'm beginning to think my parents passed something along to me that not everyone was fortunate enough to learn as a kid:

1. Always wear clean underwear in case you're in an accident (I still don't understand why this one is so important, Mom).
2. There are good and bad people of all races and religions. In other words: don't judge people by the color of their skin or which religious text they follow, because -- as much as these two factors might help inform their personality -- there's more to every person's story.

If you think my parents brainwashed me with that one, I gotta say: it's the best kind of brainwashing there is. And I'm grateful for it.

A REALIST AT HEART
I am not deluded. I have educated myself on the enemy. I have read about their "grey zone" and the desire to turn the world against moderate Muslims (who, for the record, they despise perhaps even more than they despise you and me). I know that they will stop at nothing to further their agenda, to split the world in two, to sow distrust when we need unity above all other things.

And I know that plan could entail disguising one of their own as a refugee. It happened in Paris, it seems, and the fear is real. And now tens of thousands of homeless people are paying the price.

Distrust widens. Unity weakens. And the enemy's plan falls into place.

It's up to us to not allow that to happen. It's up to us to treat people as we'd wish to be treated. To help our neighbors -- whether they're across the street or across the globe -- when they need a hand.

And here's the real kicker: if you don't think the enemy is already here, you're sadly mistaken. They told us themselves, months ago, when they posted pictures their "army" took at various cities around the United States.

They're here. And we continue to engage in "prejudicial ideologies" (to quote a well-known quarterback who gained at least one new fan last weekend) that not only helped create the situation we're in today, but also furthers the enemy's agenda. By turning your back on all Muslims, you're supporting their cause. And you don't even realize it.

HERE'S WHERE I GET ANGRY
No, not at you. Chances are I respect your opinion, even if we disagree (and based on the vast majority of my newsfeed, odds are we don't see eye-to-eye on this). And, yeah, I'm angry at the enemy for what they've done and continue to do, but that's a given.

What I'm really angry about is the devastatingly large size of our weapons, versus the size of our intelligence. Let's work with our allies. Let's be smart. Let's crack codes. Let's pinpoint with absolute certainty the location of our target, and leave the schools and hospitals intact. OK?

Because when you bomb those, you're not just killing hundreds of innocent people (which seems horrible enough, no question). You're also sowing distrust and perpetuating a cycle that must be stopped.

TO BE CONTINUED
You're scared and want to protect your family, your friends, yourselves. I understand that. I really do. But to mask a desire to protect those you care about with a blanketed hatred for thousands of people that are not only without houses, but without a country?

That, I cannot understand. And if that, as a people, is who we are? It is not who we should be.

I said it after the attacks on Paris, and I'm saying it again:

We are, at our core, so much better than all of this.

And we must never forget it.

Associated Press

Nation’s Deer Don’t Understand Why Everyone Hates Them So Much

A young fawn cuddles up against his mother, minutes before she's killed by a hunter

WINAMAC, Ind.—With rifle season officially underway across much of the United States, deer everywhere are pleading with humans to keep their guns at home.

“Why do you hate us so much?” asked one deer interviewed for this story. “Is it our gentle disposition? Our fluffy, white tails? Do you boil with rage at the mere sight of our children frolicking in an open field? We’re about as nonviolent a species as you can get. If you don’t bother us, it’s highly unlikely we’ll bother you. So what gives?

The deer excused accounts of rogue deer attacking joggers and hikers as “one or two bucks who got a taste for vengeance after their doe was killed by hunters.”

“That certainly isn’t the norm, but wouldn’t you be upset if your pregnant wife was killed?” he asked. “Aside from a few guys who get a screw loose after losing someone they love, we’re a very peaceful bunch.”

The deer admitted that if people are starving, killing members of his species might be their only option to stay alive.

“Even as an herbivore who wouldn’t hurt a fly unless provoked, I guess I can sort of understand killing us to survive in life-or-death situations,” he added. “But how often is that truly the case? I mean, I’ve read in reports that generally after killing us, you either cut off our heads and leave the body or – if you have an ounce of a soul – process the meat so it ‘doesn’t go to waste.’ And while I’m sure there are a few good people out there who actually eat every last ounce of our blood-dripping flesh, I’ve heard most people only get one or two meals out of us before we sit in their freezer for a year, get freezer burn, and wind up in the trash so they can make room for their next kill.”

When asked how he expects the deer population to be controlled without hunting – studies indicate that an annual hunting season is essential to thinning out the herd, thereby preventing disease and famine from taking hold – this deer had one seemingly simple solution: “Stop destroying our land to build your gosh-darn fast food restaurants and liquor stores. It’s that simple. If you want to ‘appreciate nature,’ don’t do it by sitting still in a tree stand and sticking our taxidermied [SIC] heads on your wall. Do it by walking around the woods and enjoying the Zen-like sights and sounds of the world around you.  Shoot photographs, not guns.”

“I should add,” he noted under his breath, “That this would be a non-issue if you hadn’t also hunted the majority of our natural predators to the brink of extinction.”

True as that may be, many hunters contend that shooting animals who have been able to “freely roam” their entire lives is far more humane than corporate farming practices where animals are kept in small pins and then slaughtered in the most painful way possible.

“When you describe it like that, sure, I’d rather be killed while living happy and free, than unhappy in a cage with no purpose other than to eventually be slaughtered,” said our guest deer. “But if that’s really what humans do, you truly should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Regarding the practice of humans posing for photos with the rotting carcasses of their kills, and then plastering those images all over social media, the deer remained incredulous.

“Now you’re just pulling my hoof, right? I mean, killing us to survive is one thing, but gloating by posing with our dead bodies – that’s just.. I mean... You’re joking, right? No one would actually do that.”   

The deer shook off the question before issuing one final request.

“I read recently that eating red meat was linked to an increased cancer risk,” he said. “Could you please just remind people about those studies, and also make sure they know that venison is red meat? Perhaps then they'll be less likely to delude themselves into thinking they're killing us for survival."

Here are a couple reminders for our readers to chew on, though we all know it isn’t going to make a difference.

"Please Just Stop," Says World

I would unite with anybody to do right and with nobody to do wrong. –Frederick Douglass

Within 24-hours, attacks perpetuated by the same terrorist organization killed 129 in Paris, 44 in Beirut and 26 in Baghdad – and this speaks nothing of the hundreds wounded in those three cities.

And let’s not forget the Russian passenger plane that was brought down two weeks ago, killing all 224 people on board. Dare I mention the people of Syria, who are dying as they flee their war-torn country in search of normalcy?  Or the horrible atrocities that affect people around the globe every day, that are often a mere blip in your newsfeed?

Note the emphasis on people.  No matter which country you hail from, or where you reside now. Regardless of your religion, your skin color, your whatever. We are all people sharing this planet. People with wishes, dreams, aspirations. People who laugh, cry and sing. People who go to the market. People with bills to pay. People with music to listen to and books to read.

None of us are entirely great, nor wholly without sin. We see it every day in others and in ourselves. We are an imperfect species, beautiful in one breath and terrible in the next.

It’s a battle as old as our bones; any history book will tell you that. No matter how far we come, we continue to have so very far to go. We abolish one horrific act and somewhere, someone else perpetuates another. It is an ongoing battle, a leaky hose that refuses to be fixed. We tell ourselves it will never truly end, so why bother trying? We go about our days, keep our head down, and hope for the best. We live our lives, only occasionally – especially on days like today – stopping to ask that we be allowed to do so until the natural end of our days.

But not everyone is so fortunate. Not everyone will have that wish granted. Not everyone can take the day for granted and continue to hope for the best. And so it goes for the many lives lost, and the countless lives impacted, in yesterday’s senseless acts. And because it is all indeed so very senseless: the world's heart is aching.

We are all embroiled in an ongoing battle between light and dark. For some people, the latter triumphs. Hopelessness turns to hate, and the monster grows from within.  As strange as it might seem, I feel sorry for those people. Anyone who loses their humanity – anyone who fails to appreciate the delicate nature of life – has lost the war, regardless of however many battles they think they win. And we must, as a people sharing this planet – as a species simultaneously capable of beauty and terror – always strive for beauty to win out.

Because we are, at our core, so much better than all of this.

New Chicago Resident Can't Wait To Swim In Lake Michigan's Pristine Waters

Beautiful Monroe Harbor

CHICAGO, Ill.–Citing a love of aquatic sports and the lake's proximity to her new Gold Coast apartment, St. Louis transplant Judith Law is already looking forward to summer.

"I'm a little bummed I chose to move to Chicago in the fall, because one of the things that really drew me here was the lake and the miles upon miles of beachfront. I mean, Lake Michigan is massive. Allow yourself to forget you're in the middle of this country, and you'd almost think it's an ocean," said Law.

Geese enjoying a pile of human waste along Chicago's shoreline

Law noted she's heard Chicagoans swim in it all summer long, and she "can't wait for that first warm day when the beaches open up and I can allow the lake's pristine waters to wash all over my delicate, disease-prone body."

Law admitted she hasn't fully researched reports concerning the water's quality, but insists it "must be clean" if the beaches fill up every day in the summer and "geese clearly enjoy it here" in the colder months.

"I have to admit though," she added. "I've been a little concerned by the number of dead fish and floating debris I've see during my walks around the lake. But I assume they clean all of that up with profuse amounts of chlorine by summer time, right? Or does it all just eventually sink to the bottom?"

"Out of sight, out of mind," she said.

Noting a basic modicum of "human decency," Law also isn't the least bit concerned about people using the lake as a giant toilet and/or garbage receptacle.

"They have port-a-pots and trash cans along the beaches for a reason," Law concluded. "With such proximity to reasonable ways of disposing of human waste, both biological and commercial, surely everyone uses them."

Nonsmoker can't get enough of that sweet, secondhand smoke

Cigarettes and cigarette boxes make great fertilizer, as seen here in a planter in downtown Chicago

CHICAGO, Ill.–When Jeanine Dennison's office relocated to Chicago from the suburbs last year, she fell in love with the city. But like many relationships, there was one dark mark that dampened the otherwise sunny affair.

"I just couldn't get over all of the cigarette smoke," said Dennison. "It was insane. I still lived in the suburbs, so I took the Metra every day, and the walk from the train station to my downtown office was literally a haze."

Having few hobbies aside from a love of math, Dennison soon calculated that, on average, she passes 57 lighted cigarettes every day on her way to and from work, lunch-time walks included.

"Sure, I only get one or two good whiffs from each cigarette I pass, but I'd say by the day's end, I've secondhand smoked at least half a pack," said Dennison.

Dennison originally tried to "hopscotch" around the smokers, but with little success.

"No matter what I did, there was always someone walking with a cigarette in their hand. And even though the smoke burned my eyes and throat, caused headaches, and made me a little nauseous, I eventually realized that attempting to avoid it was pointless."

Soon after giving in, things took an unexpected turn for Dennison.

"I've been working in the city for almost a year now, and sometimes find myself seeking out the smoke," she admitted. "It's the strangest thing. I mean, the smoke still burns my eyes and throat and is a confirmed migraine trigger, but it also fills my body with a sense of euphoria that I've never known before. Some of the smells are more exhilarating than others, and I'm drawn to certain ones like a gold digger to a retirement home."

Dennison admits to walking a little more slowly whenever a smoker is in front of her, and has even turned around to trail a smoker who passed her. When asked if she has possibly become addicted, Dennison tried to remain optimistic.

"I mean, sure, I have to clear my throat a lot more than I used to, and I now have what my doctor describes as a 'smoker's cough.' And, yeah, I've started collecting discarded cigarette butts just so I can smell them whenever I need a hit, but that's completely normal... right?"