The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for

Hear, O traveler of both highways and hidden paths, the words of Charles Kuralt: “The everyday kindness of the back roads more than makes up for the acts of greed in the headlines.” At once simple and profound, these words remind us that the true measure of the world is not found in the noise of scandal, corruption, or avarice shouted across newspapers and screens, but in the quiet acts of love and generosity that fill the daily lives of ordinary people. What is loud may be dark, but what is humble often shines brighter.

The headlines thunder with tales of betrayal, selfishness, and destruction. These are the stories of the powerful who exploit, of the ambitious who consume, of the greedy who take more than their share. Yet, Kuralt bids us turn our eyes away from this spectacle for a moment and look instead to the back roads, to the small towns and hidden corners where strangers hold doors for one another, neighbors share bread, and compassion flows not as a rarity but as a rhythm of life. Here, unseen by journalists, lies the quiet force that sustains humanity.

The ancients themselves spoke of this truth. When Rome was collapsing beneath the weight of corruption, greed filled the headlines of their day: emperors grown fat with excess, senators conspiring for power. Yet history remembers too the unnamed villagers who, through kindness, fed soldiers, sheltered refugees, and nurtured their children in the midst of chaos. It was not the mighty who preserved civilization, but the humble acts of the forgotten. Kuralt’s words carry this same wisdom: that while greed may roar, kindness endures.

Consider also the story of the French village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon during the Second World War. While the headlines blazed with the greed and cruelty of dictators and collaborators, the simple villagers of this back road community quietly hid and protected thousands of Jewish refugees. Their everyday kindness saved lives, though few outside their hills knew of it. In this way, their humble mercy outweighed the greed of the powerful, proving Kuralt’s observation across time and blood.

The sweetness of the back roads lies in their intimacy. There, people know one another by name. Strangers are greeted not with suspicion but with a nod, a smile, an offer of help. A farmer pulling a stranger’s car from the mud, a family inviting a traveler to share supper, a child waving at a passing bus—these small deeds may never make the news, but they are the true wealth of humanity. They are the antidote to despair, for they remind us that goodness is more common than evil, though it does not trumpet itself.

O listener, the teaching is this: do not measure the world by the headlines, for they show only the extreme and the corrupt. Measure it by the kindness you see around you each day—the hand extended, the smile given, the burden shared. It is here, in the hidden places, that the spirit of humanity dwells strongest. The greed of a few cannot drown out the love of the many, unless we allow ourselves to believe the lie that evil is stronger.

Practical wisdom follows: seek out the back roads in your own life. Step away from the endless noise of news and screens, and instead notice the acts of kindness that surround you. Practice them yourself: help a neighbor, speak gently, give without expecting return. In doing so, you strengthen the fabric of goodness that binds the world, and you shield your heart from the poison of despair.

Thus I say to you: heed the wisdom of Charles Kuralt. Though greed may scream from the headlines, it is the everyday kindness of ordinary lives that sustains the world. Trust not in the roar of corruption, but in the quiet river of compassion that flows through the back roads of humanity. For it is there, in the unseen and the humble, that the true hope of mankind endures.