Is it possible that large cities tend to shrink people’s hearts? Not talking about the physical organ that pumps our life’s blood, but that mysterious center of our spirits that houses our deep longings, loves and other emotions, and seems to be located deep in our breasts.

Whenever I began to spend too much time at a friend’s home, my daddy would always intervene and voice one of his wise sayings: "Remember this son, ‘Familiarity breeds contempt.’" Then he would go on to explain that in this case "contempt" means that feeling of disdain you usually get for something you usually desire and appreciate very much — like some luscious food — but have had way too much of it to the point of nausea! Put in these terms, I understood what he was getting at, and through the years found that this little truism is, indeed, true.

I thought about this after watching the horrifying news footage of an elderly man being struck by two cars while crossing a street in a large city. Neither car stopped, nor did any of the other pedestrians come to his aid as he lay sprawled on the pavement.

I thought to myself: "Well, they would probably have been more likely to rush to his assistance if he had been a dog or cat!" I’ve heard it said that many (most?) Americans love their pets much better than their family — much less their neighbor! Is this because, nowadays, there are so many of us packed closer and closer together (especially in cities) that we’re over-indulged and saturated with human companionship (which should be desirable) to the point of contempt and aversion?

My mama used to have a little framed plaque of wide-open, wild landscape — forests, mountains and lakes — hanging on the wall with some verse underneath the inspiring scenery that went something like this: "Open spaces east and west, and room to go and come — I loved my fellowman the best when he was scattered some!"

Mama was born and raised in the rural South, and loved people more than anyone I’ve ever known, but she didn’t love large cities. Like my daddy, she also had a wealth of wise, old sayings, and one she applied to cities was, "Too much of a good thing is a bad thing!"

If an elderly man was struck down while crossing a street in Orangeburg, or any of the other smaller towns in South Carolina — or any other of the smaller towns across America — I believe that, even if the driver of the offending vehicle didn’t stop, folks on the street would come the aid of the unfortunate victim. Oh well, the reports of the above big city hit-and-run crime did say that a number of people called 911 on their cell phones and reported it. Well, I guess that’s worth something, huh?

But this brings to mind another problem in America. Apathy! I believe that, to some extent, we are all so overwhelmed with the complications of high-tech arts and sciences and a thousand appliances, frantic and frustrated by faltering finances and goofy government fumbling that, in the face of trouble, we all tend to stand immobilized, shrugging our shoulders, mumbling pathetically and apathetically — "What can I do?"

Unfortunately, what it really takes for us to get shaken out of our own "selves" and lose our distaste, reluctance and fear of getting involved is for some catastrophe to strike with such overwhelming destruction and human suffering all around us that our eyes and hearts begin to look outward instead of inward. What a paradox … bad stuff to bring forth good stuff! Oh well … the ying and yang and all that stuff.

There’s a movie that came out some years back called "Starman." A very wise and compassionate alien comes to Earth, and, the government is trying to capture or kill him. At one point the one earthling who is trying to help him rendezvous with his fellow aliens asks him what he thinks of the people of Earth. He replies something like this: "You are a dangerous, warlike species, but what I like best about you is that when things are the worst is when you are at your best."

Nuff said!

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