By Juan F. Thompson
Hunter S. Thompson, “smart hillbilly,” boy of the South, born and bred in Louisville, Kentucky, son of an coverage salesman and a stay-at-home mother, public school-educated, jailed at seventeen on a bogus petty theft cost, member of the U.S. Air strength (Airmen moment Class), replica boy for Time, author for The nationwide Observer, et cetera. From the outset he used to be the Wild guy of yankee journalism with a journalistic urge for food that touched on topics that drove his feel of justice and intrigue, from biker gangs and Nineteen Sixties counterculture to presidential campaigns and psychedelic medicinal drugs. He lived greater than lifestyles and pulled it up round him in a mad attempt to make it as electrical, anger-ridden, and drug-fueled as possible.
Now Juan Thompson tells the tale of his father and in their researching one another in the course of their 41 fraught years jointly. He writes of the numerous darkish instances, of the way a ways they ricocheted clear of one another, and of the way they discovered their long ago ahead of it was once too overdue.
He writes of growing to be up in an previous farmhouse in a slender mountain valley open air of Aspen—Woody Creek, Colorado, a ranching group with Hereford farm animals and clover fields . . . of the presence of weapons in the home, the containers of ammo at the kitchen cabinets in the back of the glass doorways of the rustic cupboards, the place others may need positioned china and knickknacks . . . of mountaineering at the again of Hunter’s Bultaco Matador path bike as a tender boy, and father and son roaring up the airborne dirt and dust street, trailing a cloud of dirt . . . of being taken to bars on the town as a small boy, Hunter keeping court docket whereas Juan crawled round lower than the bar stools, opting for up swap and taking his came upon loot to Carl’s Pharmacy to shop for Archie comedian books . . . of going together with his mom and dad as a child to a Ken Kesey/Hells Angels get together with dozens of individuals wandering round the woodland in quite a few levels of undress, stoned on pot, tripping on LSD . . .
He writes of his becoming worry of his father; of the arguments among his mom and dad attaining scary degrees; and of his ultimately struggling with again, attempting to shield his mom because the country soldiers are referred to as in to split father and son. And of the inevitable—of mom and son using west of their Datsun to make a brand new domestic, a brand new existence, clear of Hunter; of Juan’s first style of what “normal” may think like . . .
We see Juan going to harmony Academy, a stranger in a wierd land, coming from a faculty that used to be a log cabin in the midst of hay fields, Juan with no manners or socialization . . . happening to varsity at Tufts; spending an important week along with his father; Hunter inquiring for Juan’s opinion of his writing; and he writes in their dust cycling on a hilltop overlooking Woody Creek Valley, performing as though all of the terrible issues that had occurred among them had by no means taken position, and of being there, jointly, part by means of facet . . .
and eventually, movingly, he writes in their lengthy, gradual pull towards reconciliation . . . of Juan’s marriage and the beginning of his personal son; of observing Hunter love his grandson and Juan’s coming to appreciate how Hunter enjoyed him; of Hunter’s starting to be ailment, and Juan’s changing into either son and father to his father . . .
From the Hardcover edition.
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Additional info for Stories I Tell Myself: Growing Up with Hunter S. Thompson
He acknowledged that I arrived traumatized and withdrawn from that stopover at, and that it took numerous days for me to unwind. Taking LSD with Don and floating within the bay at evening off the shore of a Honduran island can have helped that method. With Sandy and Don Stuber in 1978. Don was once like my enjoyable, sort, mild older brother. It was once with Don that I first took LSD, aka acid, while i used to be round fourteen. Like many of us within the ’70s, he was once drawn to japanese spirituality, and this formed his method of taking acid. Like Hunter, Don approached acid as a ceremonial drug, now not a celebration drug. My first time used to be with Sandy, Don, my ally Brad Laboe, and me. We had a rite earlier than taking the acid. I consider placing the acid blotters on a pillow and sitting at the flooring. There could have been candles. there has been definitely a feeling of recognize and solemnity as we launched into this new trip. Don, Brad, and that i took the acid and Sandy remained instantly. She was once to be the journey grasp, the only grownup who used to be instantly, who may perhaps look after issues whilst wanted, let alone force. We went to the Glenwood Springs sizzling springs pool that evening. it will probably were wintertime, so the steam may were thick over the pool and there have been few humans there. As journey grasp, Sandy took care of mundane such things as paying admission, keeping an eye on the auto, dealing with the ordering of foodstuff after we went to a cafe after swimming. It was once a superb, magical adventure. We laughed and laughed, had insights, stumbled on new issues or observed them in new methods. all over again Sandy, Don, Brad, and that i went to the Telluride Bluegrass pageant. all of us took acid and whereas Sandy and Don lay at the floor and listened to the track, Brad and that i went wandering round the competition grounds and town with a workstation, the “Acid pc. ” I take note on the time we have been overflowing with insights. I additionally do not forget that after we checked out the pc the following day, it made no experience whatever. while I advised my spouse, Jennifer, approximately those stories years later, she used to be appalled, either by means of the truth that at fourteen i used to be taking acid, and worse, that my mom used to be actively assisting it. I additionally bear in mind listening to that somebody as soon as requested Hunter at a lecture how he might react if he figured out his son had taken acid. He spoke back, “I’d beat the shit out of him. ” i didn't seek advice from Hunter approximately my drug use then or in reality ever. And he by no means requested. He didn’t need to know. Don and that i have been solid acquaintances. He was once the other of Hunter in virtually each manner i will reflect on. He was once secure, he listened, I by no means observed him lose his mood. He laughed much. We did issues jointly for all time. He didn't have separate worlds that he could circulation from side to side among with very little verbal exchange among them. He didn’t disregard birthdays; he drank sometimes yet no longer seriously or on a regular basis. He was once type. He didn’t deal with activities. He was once up at the most modern track and brought us to a brand new realm, known as “new wave,” while Hunter, even though additionally a track lover, used to be rooted within the track of the ’60s and ’70s with an emphasis on rock, southern rock, jazz, and folks, humans like Joan Baez, The Rolling Stones, Herbie Mann, Bob Dylan, and The Allman Brothers Band.