My Brother's Keeper

I've been kind of depressed with humanity in general for a while, and then this weekend I saw something wonderful.  A pair of trucks collided on the icy highway just outside of post.  Nobody died, but the front of one truck was completely crumpled, windshield shattered, its driver seriously injured.  Empty water jugs and a cooler were scattered across the intersection.  The cops wouldn't arrive for another 15 minutes.

I'm sure some of you are thinking, "What the heck is wrong with you, weirdo?  There is nothing wonderful about that. And a picture is just classless."  And you're right on all counts.  I debated over sharing the picture.  More importantly, the wreck wasn't wonderful.  What happened afterward was.

Literally the entire four way intersection stopped.  People put on their hazards and cleaned up the jugs and debris.  The police were called.  Multiple others gathered around the smashed truck, taking turns holding pressure on the driver's head wound until the ambulance arrived; in the well-below-0 temperatures, several jackets were offered to keep the injured person warm, including one man who was bare-chested, having used his shirt to staunch the blood. The other driver, who was in shock from the accident, was kept company and reassured. Without any specific coordination, single lane traffic started carefully making its way around the accident.  By the time the police arrived, there was little left to do except get the driver into the ambulance and tow away the truck.

It was amazing.  Even now, days later, I get a little verklempt remembering it.  People didn't need to be told, or wait until they were given permission to help--they just did.  They saw a need and did something about it.  This attitude isn't unique to Alaska, certainly, but it is stronger up here than anywhere I've ever lived.  Maybe it's a sense of duty, maybe it's because Alaska is actively trying to kill all of us.  I don't know.  But I respect the heck out of it.