I remember reading a story once about a lifesaving station on a rocky coastline.  It was only a stone hut really, with a single boat and a few people on station to keep watch and rescue those in peril on the sea.  With little regard for themselves and their safety, these brave people went out fearlessly into storm-tossed waters whenever there was evidence of a shipwreck somewhere nearby.  Many lives were saved, and the station became quite famous.

As that fame grew, more and more people in the neighborhood wanted to become part of its brave work.  They generously offered their time and money, so more and more new members were enrolled, new boats purchased, and new rescue crews trained.  The stone hut, too, was replaced by a comfortable building that could more adequately handle the needs of both the rescuers and those who were saved from the sea.  And, of course, since shipwrecks don’t occur every day, it became a popular gathering place—sort of a local club.

As time passed, anyone who was anyone just had to become a member.  The business opportunities alone were reason enough to join.  The members became so engaged in socializing that they lost interest in lifesaving, although they dutifully wore their lifesaving badges.  As a matter of fact, when some people were actually rescued from the sea, it was always a great nuisance because they were dirty and sick and dripped seawater all over the carpeting and furniture.

Soon the social activities of the club became so numerous and the lifesaving activities so few that there was an angry showdown at a meeting of the club’s board of directors.  Some of the members insisted that they return to their original purpose and activity of rescuing shipwreck victims.  A vote was taken, and the troublemakers, who proved to be a small minority, were invited to leave the club and start another if they so desired.

Which is precisely what they did—building a stone hut a little farther up the coast.  And they went about lifesaving with such selflessness and daring that, after a while, their heroism made them famous.  Whereupon their membership grew, their hut was reconstructed—and their idealism was smothered in self-concern.  It is said that if you visit that area of the coast today, you will find a number of exclusive clubs dotting the rocky shoreline.  Each one is justifiably proud of its origin and tradition.  Of course, shipwrecks still occur in those parts, but nobody seems to care very much.