I saw a man this morning, or was it midweek? I keep thinking about him.

He wasn’t older than forever, but old enough for today and tomorrow. Mature enough to worry about costumes and conscience.

I was driving to a suburban farmer’s market to pick up a knife I’d left for sharpening.

As I entered the parking lot, the gentleman walked past my car as he was leaving the market.

His face had a familiar quality. Years earlier, at my youngest’s birthday party, he came to the door to pick up his child. At least I think so.

The fellow wrote for a living, which is perhaps why he caught my attention back then.

This time, I recognized him for a much different reason than a birthday celebration.

You’d have, too.

Of course, you might not have realized what caught my attention. Instead, you could have mistaken him for Beetlejuice, as played by Michael Keaton in the 1988 movie (and its 2024 sequel).

What he did was more than I would do, as a man not inclined to portray a historic role on stage or off.

The gent’s unusual form of dress made a statement. If old enough, you’d have recognized his message had nothing to do with popular movies or comedy.

The gentleman was protesting, a principled action based on his own version of right and wrong.

His garb was an alternating white and black striped concentration camp uniform, something that caught your attention and provoked thoughtful consideration. Or did it? If correctly identified, the clothing was a possible trigger for Holocaust survivors, their children, and other relatives.

Still, let’s call him Mr. Good. According to the Chicago Sun-Times, this citizen opposed ICE arrests in Chicago and elsewhere.

Given the publicized abductions of immigrants, such actions are risky, though the protester is not an immigrant or a person of color.

Why did he do something so public, both stirring and personally vulnerable? He gave the reason in the newspaper: “If I didn’t do anything, it would eat me up.”

Acting on our conscience comes with a price. So does rationalization. Each of us employs our defense mechanisms, and we all use several unconsciously.

For most worthy causes, there is a need for witnesses, many to provide support, and for all of us to think about and discuss.

We could analyze this, but I’d rather consider this singular individual as a brave soul in a noble cause.

Self-reflection is a tough job, and not everyone undertakes it. Yet Mr. Good’s unspoken portrayal asks us who we are and what our responsibility is to strangers.

More needs to be done, he implies.

The moment is ripe with urgency. Given that we don’t live forever, I suppose it always is.

Mr. Good must hear the clock.