One day after leaving my class at the John O'Connell School of Technology in San Francisco almost 50 years ago, I routinely approached the bus stop where I would catch my ride home.
A man with a gaping wound on his head and obviosly impaired was lying in the gutter pleading for help.
The city bus had arrived a moment earlier and the driver was blaring his horn in an effort to get the man to move out of the way so he could continue loading and off-loading passengers.
I watched incredulously for a few seconds as others rushed by with furtive glances at the helpless man, but did nothing.
I finally put down my backpack and with all my might, dragged the poor fellow up on to the sidewalk, after which I went in to the nearest shop and asked the storekeeper to call for help.
I consoled the man as best I could until a van finally arrived and took him away.
I grew up in a small farming community in South Dakota where everyone helped each other, no matter how large or small the need.
This big city experience was a new one for me and I've never forgotten the indifference of passersby that day who obviously didn't want to become involved, or worse yet, didn't care.