This is the third or fourth time I’ve posted about the goings-on at a local post office in Cincinnati, but this time I’m reporting, not from the Roselawn post office, but from the Silverton one.

So here’s what happened. I ran in to drop off a package with a pre-printed return label. I dropped the package on the counter and headed toward the exit door. A heavy-set Asian man went out ahead of me and then kindly held the door, instead of letting it go in my face. “Thank you,” I said.

He nodded.

We then stopped in our tracks and watched wide-eyed as a young, shirtless man in his twenties cursed loudly and waved his fist in the air as he stomped down the sidewalk.

“Stay here,” the Asian man directed me as he watched the man, who appeared out of control. “Don’t go anywhere. You’re best here.” He spoke with a certainty and I listened to him.

“I work in the ER,” he said. “He’s on meth.”

“It’s sad,” I said.

He looked at me, “We live in a gratuitous society. No one wants to take responsibility for what they do anymore. Just blame someone else.”

I could tell that this man had seen a lot. He worked in the ER, after all, and no doubt heard many of the same “blame stories” day after day. We watched the enraged man walk farther and farther away.

After a few minutes, he turned to me. “I think we can go now,” he said, and we both walked toward our cars in the parking lot.

“Bye,” I said. “Take care.”

“You too,” he said.

I wanted to say to him, “Thanks for watching my back.” This was the second time I had met a stranger at a post office that “had my back.”

Yes, some people are so good, I said to myself. They’ll protect you and they don’t even know you. The meth man needs plenty of help, but the ER man—he should be commended for helping.