A few months ago, the regular Wednesday evening round of television programs was interrupted by a special bulletin telling of a serious accident on the Long Island Railroad. The excited account of this frightful wreck, which left a tight, empty feeling in the stomachs of our living room full of Long Island commuters, was followed by a terse appeal for blood donors. Fifteen minutes later, as I arrived with my brother at the local named in the appeal for blood, I saw a sight which I sincerely hope I can keep with me all my life. Hundreds of my neighbors jammed the reception room of the blood collection center and were lined up for a city block outside. Every one of them had been sitting quietly in his home,