This is only about justice in the broadest sense.

I am just back from the Ukraine, with my aunt showing us, including our almost eleven year old grandson, how she survived the Holocaust.

There we are, walking down the street along which people were marched to be loaded onto the cattle trucks to the gas chambers (she escaped by literally being dropped by my grandparents through a hole in the cattle truck).  My aunt is old, and asks someone if there is a bus.  Immediately a man steps into the middle of the street, waves a bus to stop, and tells the driver that we are visitors and to take us free to the train station for free — which he does, surrounded by obvious welcoming warmth throughout the bus.

It turned a place of horror into a memory of the generosity of the human spirit.