What would you do?

What would you do?

A simple question, but with such a complicated answer.

I was flipping channels the other night and found myself pausing to watch "Primetime's What Would You Do?" series. The basic run-down of the show is that they hire actors to create scenarios that place on-lookers in the position to either act or just stand-by. The scenarios run the gamut from bullying, to abuse, to drunk driving and more.

The first one that caught my eye was quick to make those same eyes cry. The scenario was an obese, young woman sitting on a bench on a beach boardwalk, reading a book, minding her own business. A group of women her own age walk up, start laughing and pointing and then proceed to call her names and generally make fun of her. It was amazing to see what the general public's response was to this upsetting scene. Overwhelmingly, people stopped and told the young ladies to move along, quit teasing, etcetera. Some originally passed the group up, only to turn around and say something.

I was glued to the show. As you can imagine, thanks to the imaginations of TV writers, the scenarios that were presented to the viewing public just got worse and worse. The show made its intended mark on me. The entire time I watched, I found myself asking, would I stop? Would I help him/her? Would it be safe for me to offer help?

I also began to question the incentive behind the proposed actions. WHY would I choose to help? What is it in a person that makes them want to help another in need? Naturally, the show's producers were always quick to ask that of the people who stopped to help. Mostly, people had no answer. They just stuttered things like, "I don't know. She needed help. So I helped." In some cases, people stopped because they knew someone that had been in that situation or they themselves had been there.

I don't really want to get into the psychology of the issue; I'm sure delving into the human psyche is a much deeper read than you care for, but it is a really fascinating issue. Strangers stopping to help strangers...why? Is it something we are taught to do? Or do we just subconsciously believe in karma? Perhaps we act selfishly, hoping that if the time comes when we need the help of a stranger, one is there and willing.

I can actually say there have been many times where I have offered my assistance to a stranger in need. Looking back, I'm not always sure there was a true motive behind my actions. A time or two I could actually kick myself for offering assistance. "Self, WHAT were you THINKING? You could have been shot! You are a single, young female. ARE YOU STUPID?" But my mouth usually is quick to speak up before my brain has a chance to work through the possible consequences.

There is one instance I would love to recall for you. Picture a young, 17 year old Mary, a freshman at LSU in 1998, stopping to put gas in my car at lunchtime at busy gas station. There was car parked at the pump next to me with a young man and an older man, both dressed in business suits. They had two flats on their very expensive car. The young man was fussing to the older man about his phone being dead and mentioning that they were very late for their meeting. Without missing a beat, I opened my big mouth and offered the use of my phone. The young man declined, replying that were just going to begin walking the several blocks to get to the restaurant where their meeting was being held. Have I mentioned that it was a scorching August day? I immediately insisted that they get in, I was driving them to their destination. The young man glanced at the older man, who by this time was actually beginning to get into my SUV, and agreed that a ride would be wonderful.

Off we went, to the restaurant for the meeting. The young man did use my phone to make a call about their car while the older gentleman actually spoke to me. He explained that they were just in town for the day, for this meeting, and that he really appreciated my kindness. He was from New Orleans and knew that kind strangers are often hard to come by. I replied that I probably should have known better, single girl, all alone, offering a ride to two men? I laughed, mentioning that my dad would probably kill me for offering a ride to strangers. The man laughed with me and said that my dad had obviously raised a smart one, considering I picked up two well-dressed men! We arrived at the restaurant, where they expressed their thanks and got out. The older man walked straight in but the younger man signaled for me to roll down my window. He offered to pay me for me troubles, which I quickly refused. He then handed me a business card and said, "If you even run into trouble in New Orleans, please give Mr. Connick a call."

The silver-haired man I had just chauffeured to Ruth Chris's was none other than Harry Connick, Sr., then district attorney of New Orleans.