![\"Model](\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/186\/2020\/03\/Maqueta_Acropolis_Piedras_Negras.jpg\")
<\/a>It seems appropriate to jot down some lines on my life history on a Sabbath day, so here\u2019s a note toward my eventual autobiography (which \u2014 don\u2019t worry! \u2014 I have no anticipation of ever publishing):<\/span><\/p>\n Many years ago, I went down to Guatemala with a couple of others to look in on an archaeological dig that was being conducted by an expedition sponsored by Brigham Young University at a place called Piedras Negras.<\/a> \u00a0The site is located in the jungle on the northern bank of the Usumacinta River in Guatemala\u2019s northwestern \u201cdepartment\u201d of the Pet\u00e9n, accessible only from the river. \u00a0The old Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies (FARMS) was helping to support it in specific ways, and we were leaders of FARMS. \u00a0After a few days, some of our family members came down to join us. \u00a0(My own children were too young to do so at the time.)<\/p>\n One day, many of us were swimming in the river, near the archaeological site (and near our camp). \u00a0I had read that one of the original archaeological investigators of the site had drowned there the better part of a century before, and I knew that there were fairly serious rapids located not too far downstream. \u00a0But we had found a peaceful bend in the river with virtually no current, and we were careful not to venture out into what was, literally, the mainstream.<\/p>\n Everything was going, umm, swimmingly for quite a while. \u00a0Although it was the \u201cdry season,\u201d we had already been obliged to move our tents once or twice to escape the rising river, and the climate was painfully humid. \u00a0So the coolness of the \u00a0river was a great relief.<\/p>\n There was a young man from our group who was treading water not far from me, and I checked on him from time to time out of the corner of my eye. \u00a0Suddenly, I noticed that he seemed to have received a jolt and that he had begun to move fairly quickly downstream. \u00a0He had inadvertently found his way into the river\u2019s central current.<\/p>\n I could tell that he was becoming worried, so I went after him. \u00a0I\u2019ve always felt comfortable in water, more so than out of it. \u00a0I was a strong swimmer even as a child; I swam competitively in high school.<\/p>\n However, by the time that I reached him, I myself was surprised \u2014 shocked, really \u2014 at the strength of the river. \u00a0It was considerably greater than I had expected. \u00a0I grabbed him and began to try to pull him back to the northern bank of the stream. \u00a0Because I was holding on to him with one arm, though, I was using the side stroke, which is a nice leisurely swimming style but not a particularly strong or continuous one.<\/p>\n For the first (and, thus far, the only) time in my aquatic life, I began to worry about how this was going to end. \u00a0We were moving rather rapidly down the stream, and I was making little or no progress toward the northern bank. \u00a0I didn\u2019t know exactly how far away the rapids were.<\/p>\n I was absolutely certain that, if I were to let him go and to swim for myself, I would be able to make it to shore. \u00a0But how could I let him go? \u00a0His father was standing on an eminence on the northern bank, shouting encouragement to us. \u00a0How, if I were to let him go, could I ever face his father?<\/p>\n I\u2019ve thought, since, how little \u201ccourage\u201d really had to do with it. \u00a0I didn\u2019t feel especially courageous. \u00a0If anything, I was aware of how horrible it would be were I to let him go and were he perhaps to drown. \u00a0Not only could I never have faced his parents, I thought that I would never be able to face anybody ever again.<\/p>\n So I went on struggling to get him back to the northern bank. \u00a0It soon became apparent to me, though, that we were unlikely to make it. \u00a0(If he himself was swimming at all, I was unaware of it and I don\u2019t remember it. \u00a0He was, to the best of my recollection, essentially dead weight while we were in the river and I was dragging him.)<\/p>\n Accordingly, I decided to try to make the opposite bank, the southern bank. \u00a0There was nothing over there, but at least it was dry land. \u00a0Even so, at first I was making no progress. \u00a0And then, at just about the time that I was ready not to \u201cgive up\u201d but to resign myself to the fact that we weren\u2019t likely to reach the shore, the current suddenly seemed to go still and I was able to make the final five or ten yards with almost no problem at all. \u00a0Soon, some of the folks onshore brought one of our boats across and picked us up from the riverbank.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve wondered since, Were we really in danger of drowning? \u00a0I don\u2019t want to make this out to be anything bigger than it really was, but my serious sense is that, yes, we were. \u00a0It really was the only time in my life that I\u2019ve ever feared water. \u00a0I was unnerved afterwards. \u00a0And I\u2019ve also wondered, was I heroic that day? \u00a0I honestly don\u2019t think so. \u00a0I certainly didn\u2019t seek the opportunity out<\/em>. \u00a0Happily, I\u2019m a good swimmer, and I simply did what I thought I had<\/em> to do. \u00a0I didn\u2019t see any realistic alternative. \u00a0Certainly no honorable one.<\/p>\n And I\u2019ve wondered whether other people, people whom we have praised as heroes, didn\u2019t feel much the same way when they did their \u201cheroic\u201d deeds, whether they didn\u2019t find themselves in much the same situation. \u00a0A person who genuinely feels no fear under legitimately dangerous conditions strikes me as not so much a hero but a fool. \u00a0Hasn\u2019t it often been the case that people who have done courageous deeds simply saw themselves, under the circumstances, as duty-bound to do them? \u00a0Not joyous or exultant or insanely foolhardy, but obliged<\/em>. \u00a0I certainly did.<\/p>\n A few weeks after our return from Guatemala, a number of us were at an outdoor public event where someone who had not<\/em> been there, but who had heard of the episode, much too loudly (and in a very inappropriate way) alluded to my involvement and wondered whether the parents of the young man had rewarded me in any way. \u00a0They were very wealthy, and they were standing nearby. \u00a0I wanted to sink into the pavement. \u00a0I was mortified. \u00a0To this day, I don\u2019t know whether they heard his comment or not. \u00a0The idea of a \u201creward\u201d had never entered my mind. \u00a0Rather, at the moment of decision, I had feared their sadness, pain, and disappointment had I not<\/em> acted. \u00a0I suppose you could even say that I acted out of cowardice<\/p>\n That experience is unique in my life. \u00a0I reflected on it quite a bit for a few weeks afterward, but haven\u2019t thought about it for years now. \u00a0I don\u2019t know what brought it to my mind again today. \u00a0Maybe, traveling from Richmond to Washington\u2019s Union Station by train on an overcast day, it was having crossed over several rather muddy brown rivers that are thickly forested on each side. \u00a0They may have reminded me, just slightly, of the appearance of the Usumacinta.<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a><\/a>