My 16-year-old son, Anton, had gone to the local swimming hole. Most of the kids swim there, and there are plenty of rocks for them to use as safe harbors, so I had no fears for his safety. Still, the firefighter's first words "You need to come up here to the Stillwater River" made me catch my breath, and his follow-up words gave me relief: " Your son is OK." When I got to the river, I immediately saw the firetruck, ambulance and Anton, wrapped with a towel about his shoulders, sitting quietly on a low platform of the fire engine. 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, however, _ . The story was this: A woman was being swept under water. Hearing the cries, Anton and his friend Tyler, without hesitation, swam out to her, and brought her safely to shore. In an age in which the word "hero" is broadcast with abandon and seemingly applied to anyone who make it through the day, I realized the real thing in my son. The teens are stubborn and self-centred, but that didn't mean they have no desire to do good. Still shocked by my son's daring, I drove him home. Along the way, I tried to dig out some more information from him - but he had precious little to say. The only words he said were, "What's for supper?" I spent some time alone that evening, thinking about the tragedy that might have been. The next morning, when Anton got up, I half expected him to tell me the story. But all he did was toast some bread, pull himself together, and head for the door to start a new day. Watching from the window,1 was reminded that still water often runs deep. What might be the best title for the passage?
My Son, My Hero Anton, A Silent Boy A Good Deed A Proud Mother