Good Hunting, Nicholas

For the last few years I have been compiling memories in the form of memoir essays. It’s fun and interesting to recollect what I have done with my life over the years. I do not see myself writing an autobiography, however, but rather being selective on episodes to delve into. I do not begin at my true beginning with my childhood which, to me, seems as uninteresting now as it was then. A pretty ordinary stretch of life filled with good memories but little drama, a time that I don’t see as worth writing about.

So, it’s not really my life story that I am filling pages with but reflections on where life has taken me. It has taken me many fascinating places. And I enjoy remembering where I have gone. Memory is, to paraphrase a common saying, like drinking sea water—the more you drink, the thirstier you get. Writing a memoir is like a quest. You might say, I am hunting my past.

I was remembering an episode in my past last week and the more I thought about it and wrote out the story, the more that came to me. The story was about the day a kind, older man tempted me out of my closet. He didn’t succeed. I was foolish enough to pass up the opportunity he offered. I thought I had written out the story. But then, wait, something else happened back then. He said something to me. What was it? I plied my memory until it started coming back to me. He said something like, “You don’t have to be alone, you know.” I’d forgotten that last part.

The tools I use in this hunt include not only my memory of events—fond or not so fond—but also documents, old journals, and, lots of published clips from my days as a journalist in San Francisco. I sometimes even do some research and fact checking.

I have all the documents, for example, of the struggle with my draft board from 1968 to 1972 that culminated in my refusing induction into the U.S. Army. Having long had a fondness for writing, I wrote for some underground papers in California back then and actually found copies in the San Francisco Public Library. Some of those pieces I’m proud of and some I dismiss as just getting carried away with the rhetoric of that era. Did I really call the President of the United States a pig? Well, he probably deserved it.

The only time in my life that I kept a personal journal was when I began coming out. I wrote in it faithfully almost every day for a few years and found it a great way to see who I was and how I was changing. Some memories are flattering and some are not. At times, I am roaring with happiness from new found friends and experiences. Other times, I am wishing it would all go away and I could just be normal, whatever that might mean. It helps to see the bad with the good.

My hunt has produced results, maybe I should call them trophies. I am seeing patterns that I like. It seems to me that my life has been blessed with two Spring times and maybe even a third. Twice I have felt desperate and besieged by forces beyond my control and twice I have responded to those challenges by entering a time of creativity and change. The first time was when I decided to drop out of college and take on the military draft. That led to a multitude of incredible experiences. The second spring came of course when I embraced being gay and found friendship and love, challenge and strength, community and history.

And the third spring? Well, it seems to be right now. As I’m growing older, I find myself again in a period of challenge and change and great creativity at the same time. I like remembering my past, chasing it down, writing it down. This hunt has its satisfactions in knowing the ground on which I now stand. Where I’m headed is growing out of where I’ve been. I like being a hunter and the hunt goes on.

© 19 Sep 2016 

About the Author 

 Nicholas grew up in Cleveland, then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga, writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.