A Father's Sleepless Night

      OK. Here's the deal. When I was a teenager way back in the Jurassic era, I did something I can't explain. As I was leaving school one day I broke a girl's ankle and didn't stop to apologize or see if she was all right. She had been walking in front of me and through the door where the buses awaited us. I opened the door and it smashed her in the back of the foot. She yelped and began to limp and I knew she was hurt very badly, but I pretended that I hadn't noticed what I had done. I rushed onto the bus while out of the corner of my eye a friend of hers screamed at me. Twenty five years later I still wonder if this girl, who I didn't know or ever saw again still walks with a limp because of me.
      I think I'm a basically decent person just as I think most human beings are for the most part basically good rather than evil. But every good person has those inexplicably, evil break-a-girl's-ankle-and-don't-take-responsilbilty-and-run away-hide moments. And sometimes in the middle of night, I think about that and it gives me a little chill. I look at my son in his crib, sleeping peacefully, and I wonder if we, the human race, are going to make it.
      Billions of small, evil little acts. By billions of basically good people. I leave my son's room. I will not sleep the rest of this night.