My 16-year-old son, Anton, had gone to the local swimming hole. Most of the kids who swim there are fit and strong teens, and there are plenty of rocks for them to use as safe harbors, so I had no fears for his well-being. Still, the firefighter's first words, "You need to come up here to the Stillwater River," made me catch my breath. When I got to the river, I saw Anton sitting quietly on a low platform of the fire engine, with a towel wrapped about his shoulders. I hurried over to him. "You OK?" I asked. "Yeah," was all he said. But my eyes begged for an explanation. I didn't get it from my son. The story was this: A couple in their 20s, unfamiliar with the Stillwater, had gotten caught in the current and began screaming for help. Without hesitation Anton and his friend dived into the water, swam out to the drowning  woman, and brought her safely to shore. In an age in which the world "hero" is broadcast with abandon and seemingly applied to anyone, I realized the real thing in my son and his friend--the disregarding of personal safety for the sake of another human being. I know that teens are headstrong and self-centered, but this didn't lower the gravity of the event and the desire to do good. Along the way home I tried to get some more information from him, but the only words were, "What's for supper?" I thought twice about the tragedy  that might have been. Questions flew across my mind like a flight of swallows: Would I have risked my life to save a drowning person? Or would I have chosen to dial 911? Would I have told the story over and over to anyone who'd listen? The next morning, when Anton got up, I half expected him to tell me the story from his point of view, now that he had some distance from the event. But all he did was to toast a pie, pull himself together, and head for the door to begin the new day. Anton kept silent about his deed because  _  .
he was still in fear he was annoyed with mother he regarded it as a normal thing he was afraid of being scolded