Jon thought.

He had been listening.

And learning.

And wondering.

He looked down at his now somewhat unfamiliar backpack.

“Buddy,” he began, “I've got another question, and I think you're the one smart enough to answer it.”

“Still feel dumber than a fence post most of the time,” Buddy interrupted.

Jon grinned. “I'm certainly not a historian,” he continued, “but it seems that since the beginning of humankind, the poets, philosophers, theologians, and even musicians have been trying to tell us that love is the answer. So, I think you're in good company when you say that the fact of life is to love others well . . . with our backpack.”

Now the crowd was fully focused on Jon.

He continued. “I don't presume to speak for everybody, but I think we can all agree that people who love other people well are great to be around.”

It was a subject that was easy to build consensus on; everyone nodded.

“And as I think about it,” Jon said, “People who love people well can change the world. Umm, like Dr. King, or . . .”

“Gandhi,” said one.

“Mother Teresa,” said another.

“The Biography Channel listed Jesus as the most influential person in history, and He was all about love,” another added.

“My first‐grade teacher,” said Collin.

People looked at him with a look that said they wanted to know more.

Collin blushed. “The short story is that I come from a very messed‐up family. My father abandoned us, my mother had drug problems. Then I met Miss Minett. I can't tell you much about the subjects we covered, but I can remember how much she loved me.”

A tear came to Collin's eye. Everyone wanted him to go on, but they all understood that they already knew everything they needed to know.

Jon let that hang in the air for a moment, and then realized it was a great segue to his question. “Buddy, the problem, as I see it, is that there don't seem to be too many Miss Minetts in the world.”

“And there seem to be fewer by the day,” said the woman in 15B.

More nods.

“Buddy, my new old friend, I get on a lot of planes and the whacking doesn't seem to be getting any better or any less frequent. And the love is almost nonexistent. How do we change that?” Jon finished, doubtful there was an answer.

Everyone waited on Buddy.

“You know, folks, I was reading an article awhile back—and, please, no comments about being surprised I can read,” Buddy grinned. “I had a good first‐grade teacher, too.” Buddy winked at Collin. “The article was in a science journal describing how empathy between folks had decreased over the last 30 years. It's a durn shame.”

Nobody looked surprised.

“And, of course, they had theories as to why. Any guesses?” Buddy asked.

Collin started. “People are scared of talking to strangers because there seems to be a lot of strange individuals, or they don't want to be thought of as a strange individual. Present company excluded,” Collin smiled.

More laughter.

“I certainly fit that bill,” Buddy said. “Other ideas?”

“People are in too much of a hurry.”

“Or too wrapped up in themselves.”

“And too wrapped up in whatever they're doing with whatever devices they're staring at,” added Sofia.

“Right you all are,” Buddy began. “And Miss Sofia highlighted the core behaviors pointed out by the scientists: the increased social isolation brought on by the ever‐expanding media world. Some people don't see it as, ‘It's me and my backpack to help the world,' but rather, ‘It's me and the devices I carry in my backpack against the world.'”

People nodded at that, too.

“Now before y'all think I'm anti–social media or don't like phones because I'm older than Moses' daddy, that is not the case. I've got the best dumb phone that money can buy.”

Everyone was falling in love with the old cowboy.

“What I am anti is the behavior that has become exceedingly worse because of this increased isolation. I'm sure y'all have some examples of that.”

They came from everybody, one after another.

From unfriending to cyberbullying to name calling to vicious character attacks and unwanted revenge photos, everyone had either heard of a situation or experienced one themselves. Hateful attacks, verbal and otherwise, seemed to be a daily staple of newsfeeds.

“Isolation makes it too easy to be mean to people,” Sofia said after the sharing died down. “Even in the cramped quarters of a plane, people remain isolated and disconnected so it is easy to judge the mom with the crying baby, the guy who needs a seatbelt extension, or the person whacking people with their backpack. Without empathy, we don't try to feel what they're feeling so there's no social connection.”

Buddy let Sofia's wise words hang in the air.

“And without empathy, it's extremely difficult to get to that most important fact of life.” Buddy looked over at Jon. “That fourth thing about our backpack.”

“Loving people well,” Jon added.

Buddy nodded.

“You see, folks, without empathy, people simply do not work to understand others and connect with their world; they fail to put themselves in the other person's place and feel what they're feeling.”

Buddy again paused.

“And without love, people aren't kind to one another; we do not demonstrably work to care for others. We don't respond with empathy and choose to make other people's journeys just a little bit better. And without both,” Buddy paused one more time, “the world is a lonely, hurting, angry place; and people fail to become the people they were designed to be.”

No one disagreed.

“Now folks,” Buddy grinned again, “I'm not trying to tip over the outhouse here, but I do feel the need to bring this full circle. Let's say you're walking down the aisle here and unbeknownst to you, you're whacking people with your backpack. Like my buddy, Jon, here.”

Jon simply shook his head—but smiled.

“All of a sudden you discover that fact because some poor fella says, ‘Ouch!' Now what do you do?”

Several answers came in at once. “Apologize.”

“Say, ‘I'm sorry.'”

“Say, ‘Excuse me.'”

“And why is that?” Buddy asked.

“Because you realized your hurt someone,” came the reply.

“Hmmm,” Buddy started.

“Well, that's the socialized‐by‐our‐first‐grade‐teacher response, which isn't bad, mind you. We like our first‐grade teachers,” Buddy winked at Collin again. “But you really apologized because you have empathy, because you understand what it's like to be on the other end of the whacking! And once you realize what you've done, with love and compassion you alter your behavior so you don't whack anyone else. Make sense?”

Nods all around.

“Collin,” Buddy continued, “why do you airline folk refer to people on planes as ‘souls?’”

“It's the quickest way to describe the total number of living, breathing people on board. You don't separate out passengers from crew. We are all fellow human beings.”

Buddy let that sink in, too.

“Jon, in answer to your question about how to change the low empathy and even lower expressions of love, we must first see all of our fellow passengers on this journey of life as souls. We are all fellow‐human beings. We are more alike than we are different. Reminding ourselves of that increases empathy. Putting down our phones and talking to other souls increases empathy. Next, we act on that empathy and practice compassion.

“Folks, that kind of behavior can seem as scarce as grass around a hog trough, but even this little band of new friends right here can have a huge impact. Do good unto others. We learned that in first grade, too. And this isn't just cowboy truth. There is some serious science around all of the benefits to both the giver and the receiver of compassion. The more you practice random acts of kindness, paying for people's coffee, leaving a big tip, writing thank-yous, offering kind words, letting someone pull in front of you in traffic, holding doors, helping others with luggage, encouraging others, and on and on, the happier you are—and other souls are enjoying life more as well.

“The happiest, most fulfilled folks on the airplane of life are those who just plain-ole do everything they can to help other people with their backpacks.”