“Bad memories 
have long shadows.” 
R.J. Ellory

Bad memories… we all have them. Some, not surprisingly, are more traumatic than others. The problem with these memories is that, as English writer R.J. Ellory points out, they have long shadows. Try as we might to put them out of our mind, they seem to find a way to revisit us, often breaking open the unhealed scab which remains from the original transgression. 

For sixty years, there is one memory I have tried to put behind me. It has resurfaced in my life more times than I would like to admit. While I am not able to completely recall the specific details of the incident, the feeling I experience whenever that memory comes to mind reminds me that something wrong, something significant, happened to me — that something that should never have happened, actually did occur. 

That feeling gripped me once again on the afternoon of Wednesday, June 3rd while I was walking in San Francisco. I arrived at a specific location in The City when, once again, the memory of that reprehensible event was triggered by something I saw. It really should not have surprised me. Without realizing it, I had wandered to the exact location where the incident took place. My body tensed up with anxiety as memories of that afternoon in the 1960’s raced through my head. 

The feelings were tangible — helplessness, anger, embarrassment, shame, regret that I had not handled the situation differently at the time. The event replayed in my memory. As is always the case, however, I was unable to recall everything that had happened that day. I tried my best not to think about it, but that’s like trying not to breathe. It wasn’t an option.

I have no question about who was involved. I am well-aware of where the incident took place. I have never been able to comprehend why such a thing would happen. And I am a bit uncertain as to exactly when it happened, though I know I was in either sixth or seventh grade at the time. It’s a recurring flashback from which I’ve been unable to escape.

This is not the only bad memory of my life. To this day, I still have nocturnal recollections of the last ten years of my teaching career, when toxicity in the workplace compelled me to retire prematurely. This memory, however, unlike those that I experience in my sleep, only resurfaces when I am awake. I’ve decided the time has finally come to confront this distressing memory head-on.

I’m grateful for the opportunity I have, with the help of a professional therapist, to do some serious digging into my past in an effort to make sense out of what, for sixty years, has not made sense to me.