Circumstances
I still don’t know why I did it.
A day at the beach with family. Frantic calls from people on the rocks. A young girl floundering in the waves. Without hesitation I run into the sea to rescue her.
That’s not like me. I’m not the hero type. I like to think I have high ideals and a good sense of morality; that I would be willing to sacrifice for a cause. But on a hero/coward spectrum, I would place myself in the middle. Besides, I’m 67 years old, and although I’m in good shape, I am not a strong swimmer.
This all happened last month, on a beach in Hong Kong that is remote, beautiful and expansive. If you go there during the week, you’re likely to find a handful of beachgoers, lots of seashells and pleasant, warm surf. Even on weekends, it’s not overcrowded. Tourists from Mainland China like to go there, primarily to snap photos of themselves on the large outcropping of rocks that juts into the ocean. My wife, our two children and their fiancees had hiked to the beach and were playing a game of Spike Ball badly on the sand, when we heard the commotion. People shouting. My wife thought maybe they were making a video. But we could discern a single voice repeatedly, frantically crying “Help!”
Out in the waves, not too far from shore, a girl was bobbing in the surf, waving her arms and disappearing under consecutive waves, only to bob back up. Without thinking, I started running. I hadn’t planned to go swimming that day, so I was wearing cargo shorts. Made slow progress as I waded through waves at the shoreline, then began to swim slowly toward the girl. My son had followed right behind me, and I was relieved to see that this young, strong rugby player was passing me and cutting through the waves while I laboriously made incremental progress. I felt the undertow that was keeping the girl from making it to shore, and began to wonder whether I was in trouble. My son reached the girl and brought her safely to dry land while I struggled to get myself to the beach. The girl was still clinging onto him, long after they had stepped away from the water’s edge. My son looked back to make sure he didn’t have to undertake another rescue, but as I slowly waded to shore, I gave him a thumbs-up.
I won’t write further about the grateful mother, the stunned girl or the indifference of the multitude that wandered the shore. My son was impressively humble about the rescue. The incident seemed to pass with a minimum of review or excitement. We got back home and had dinner. I didn’t share my thoughts and feelings, but I was confounded by what I’d done and perplexed about why I’d done it. Over the next couple of weeks, my wife enjoyed recounting the episode to friends, focusing as much on the apathy of other beachgoers as the heroics of her son (my role, although mentioned, understandably got less attention than the successful rescue). I have not brought the subject up with anyone, and my son and I have yet to do a debriefing on what prompted us to respond as we did.
When my wife tells the story, often the listeners point out the danger involved in attempting to rescue a drowning swimmer. They mention that the conditions that put the swimmer in danger would also confront the rescuer, along with the danger of the panicked swimmer dragging the rescuer down with them–that sort of thing. There seems to be a practical assessment of the situation that indicates that it is dangerous–or even foolhardy–to try to rescue a drowning swimmer. Leave it to the professionals, or accept that nothing could be done.
I get it. And there was a moment there where I thought I might be in trouble as the “elderly” would-be rescuer realised he also was in danger of drowning. Perhaps it was unwise to rush into the water without understanding the conditions involved and recognising my limited ability to rescue someone. I have never attempted anything like this before and although I would like to think I’m someone who would put his life on the line to aid a person in danger, until last month I had never done so.
Why did I? I began running without analysing the situation or thinking about what I was doing. As I reflect on this incident, I have no answers. I am astonished that this late in my life I can still surprise myself. I am left with the feeling that something profound happened. I don’t share this incident to bolster my image: after all, not only did I not rescue the girl, I didn’t come close and who knows if I would have been able to if I had reached her. But I have drawn a few conclusions. One is based on a tragic story that a friend mentioned after my wife finished sharing about the incident at the beach. The friend recounted a time many years ago when a man rescued a drowning mother and daughter after heavy waves had swept them out to sea on the south side of Hong Kong Island. He was able to get them safely to shore, but then drowned himself, unable to climb out of the pounding surf before he became exhausted from the effort. His wife and children looked on in horror as he died. I remember the incident–it happened shortly after we arrived in Hong Kong 35 years ago. But while our friends agreed that sometimes “there’s nothing you can do” and tacitly implied that the man should not have attempted to rescue the pair, I disagreed. I can’t say that I would run into the waves again if I saw a drowning girl–I didn’t know that I would do it when it happened last month. But sometimes these circumstances demand a response that doesn’t involve calculation. This is a deep mystery to me, because I didn’t think I was someone who would reflexively spring into action to (attempt) to save someone in danger.
I don’t know if I would do it again. But I’m glad I did it.
petermaize 