Remembering our humanity during Syrian refugee crisis

If there is one thing we can all afford during this refugee crisis - is to be human.

I was fortunate (or unfortunate) to witness the exodus of Middle Eastern refugees amassing at the borders of Hungary and Austria (for points unknown) while on a tour of Eastern Europe in September. My trains were canceled in Vienna and Budapest as the borders were closed and the stations were packed with thousands of Syrians, Afghans, Iranians, and Iraqis fleeing their homelands for safe haven in Europe and beyond.

While I was waiting for a driver for my destination, I went to a grocery (where security turned refugees away) and bought a cartload of bananas, bread, cookies and water and rolled it out to the nearby camp at the Vienna train station. While security forces walked about with their guns, I gave what I could to the hungry families, who in turn were wanting to share their stories of horror and suffering.

I know some bad people were mixed in with the good, as what transpired in the recent Paris attacks. I don't know how officials will separate refugees and give clearance, but it is my memory of all the children - so many children. Not teenagers, as they have been kidnapped or forced into the terrorists' groups.

Some parents told me of not seeing their children again because they had been stolen out of school or off the street. Young women were raped and now pregnant and making the long journey from the Mideast. I had packages of mint chewing gum that I gave to the little children and adults knowing that it was relief from not having a toothbrush or shower. One man washed his feet with the bottle of water I handed to him.

Viennese students brought their pet dogs for the children to pet and play with - memories left back in their old countries; countries where these people had homes, pets, lives and jobs just like you and me. They wanted phones and cords, but the European devices weren't compatible with the Mideast phones. So many wanted to get in contact with loved ones lost en route or left behind.

I noticed there were no elderly and again, the absence of the teens. What is their plight left back in countries where bombs are blowing up overhead?

We have the Atlantic between us for now. I wish I could have provided more to these people to make them feel human again.

' Brian S. Anderson works at Rockwell Collins and spends spare time on local stages acting and singing; and is devoted to travel adventures. Comments: priscillaswags@gmail.com