A Lesson in Courage — 1962
A LESSON IN COURAGE — 1962
I have often reflected on a humbling experience I had as a youth which taught an important principle in a very devious way. My father was the bishop of our ward during my pre-teen years in Reno, and thus he often let me tag-along on Mutual activities. One year Dad let me attend the Mutual opening social which was held at a local swimming pool. During part of the activity, I noticed that the Priests had formed a circle in the deeper part of the pool, and that they were capturing the Deacons, one by one, within the circle. A discussion would ensue, followed by commotion and splashing, and then the Deacon would be released. I wanted no part of whatever was happening inside this circle of terror, but even Bishops’ sons were not exempt and I was eventually pulled into the circle by a Priest. Surrounded by hulks nearly twice my size and standing in chin-deep water, I was gruffly informed that they were forming an association of “Real Men” and that I could become a member by consenting to be dunked 100 times in a row. If I chose not to join, I would be allowed to leave the circle without further discussion. Well, I chose to leave, thinking I would never live to tell the story if I allowed those brutes to dunk me 100 times. With attending snickers and chuckles, I was dismissed from the circle. It was several minutes later, after all the younger boys had been “encircled”, that I learned the true purpose of the initiation circle: any boys who were courageous enough to consent to being dunked were immediately accepted into “THE GROUP”, without being dunked! Having the courage to consent to 100 consecutive dunks was all the courage the Priests were looking for. The Priests in the circle splashed and motioned as if they were dunking a hapless Deacon, only to make outside observers think that some terrible punishment was being meted out. I don’t know how many of the boys consented to the dunking, thus earning automatic membership in the elite club, but I certainly wasn’t one of them. Although their means were devious, these Priests were teaching a poignant lesson, namely that making the decision to tackle a difficult task is often the hardest part of the task, and that the task often turns out to be easier than originally thought once the decision is made to forge ahead.
I recall one other situation where the bishop’s son was not spared devious behavior. In the early 1960’s our Reno ward young men won the Church basketball tournament in our area, and they qualified to participate in the annual All-Church Basketball Tournament held in Salt Lake City. My father, the bishop, was one of the team escorts for the trip and he invited me to come along. I remember how much fun it was to be with my dad, to stay in a hotel, to eat our evening meals at Kentucky Fried Chicken, and to watch the games. Unfortunately, I also remember how the Priests delighted in tormenting the bishop’s “little boy”. On more than one occasion would they put me into the back seat of a car with several of the young men, and they would try to completely cover me by sitting on me. It seemed humorous to themselves, but it was terrifying and humiliating to me. They were smelly and heavy. I am not sure how they pulled this off without my dad knowing.
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