There’s a fine line between staying out of the media stream for self-preservation and sticking your head in the sand.

I don’t get direct feed nightly news to the kitchen table like I did when a kid.

Part of that is by choice. Being told to hold a story until Tom Brokaw had said his piece made an impression.

Part is logistics. Having cut the cord on cable and not hoisting a big enough antenna high enough on the house means over the air locals don’t always come to visit.

Part is self-preservation. With an electronic rubber-necker in my hot little hand, I make conscious decisions to not seek out tragedy, violence, and discontent.

Call me uninformed, a bit ignorant. I call it regulating my hope and mental health.

But not poring over the details of disaster does not mean I am not aware of what is happening in the world. That I am not worrying over brash acts of global consequence.

Yes, I can put down my phone and think that land is far away; that I will never step foot on it; that I will never meet its people.

But no matter where on earth is home, humans have the same needs and desires. Life being topmost.

If we take the position that we are safe in a bubble, a mushroom cloud can burst that in an instant regardless of geographic distance.

But even without that threat, we cannot bury our heads in the sands of our privilege – be it distance, race, resources. Whatever.

To be a good human means to care for other humans. Regardless of the details.