Well, you would have if you were near North Avenue Beach along Lake Michigan in Chicago at around 2:00 PM today. Usually running is when I do my best thinking, and it's the time where I'm most confident; Not so confident this time.*
I found it kind of odd that hundreds of people saw me running around crying, sitting in the fetal position trying to distract myself by watching volleyball, again, crying, and no one asked me what was wrong. Is that a big city thing, an American thing, and/or a detached modern society thing? I feel that in Sweden, for instance, someone would have stopped and asked how I was - preferably the concerned pedestrian would be a buxom blond-type Swede. Still, when one is going through a horribly depressing episode, as I am, one can tend to get a little self-absorbed, so I guess it's possible I'm apt to jump to the conclusion that no one cares about poor, poor Ken.
Still, I said to myself that if I ever saw someone in a similar position, I would make sure that person was okay. Oddly enough, as I was on the home stretch of the run, I saw a young woman sitting outside of her apartment building, talking on the phone, and she was either crying or had been before. Since I made a pledge only moments ago, I just had to honor it, so I turned around and asked if she was all right. She assured me that she was fine, and to me it was evident that although she didn't want any of my "counseling" at that time, she smiled in a way that suggested that she was touched that I took the time to see if my fellow Chicagoan was okay.
So, what do you think? Given similar circumstances, would you stop and ask someone if he/she was all right? Oh, and you don't have to ask how I'm doing. Old Gancey is going to be just fine. I promise.
*The day before was during the anger stage, so it was, of course, a very angry run complete with swearing, punching street signs, and ripping leaves off of most every tree I passed. Very tough-guy, right?