Two images: First, as a 6-year-old boy growing up in New York City, I am walking with my father on a crowded midtown street. The rush of pedestrians suddenly backs up before me as people narrow into a single lane to avoid a large object on the sidewalk. To my astonishment, the object turns out to be a human being lying unconscious against a building. My father quickly points to a bottle in a paper bag next to him. Not one of the passing herd seems to actually notice the man -- certainly, none make eye contact -- as they robotically follow the makeshift detour. My father, who I look up to as a model loving, caring man, explains that the poor soul on the sidewalk "just needs to sleep it off." When the prone man suddenly begins to ramble senselessly, my father stops me. "You never know how he'll react." I later came to see these two teachings --"there's nothing you can do" and "try not to get involved"-- as my anthems of urban survival.

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