The Boy Scout Had a Name

I don't even know how to begin this.

I wrote the day before yesterday about writing a letter to The Boy Scout. I didn't want to mention his name because I didn't want to call undue attention to him. He was a minor celebrity at one point in time and there was a book written about him. I figured if I had any hope of him writing me back that I had better keep a low profile. I also tend to give everyone I mention on this blog an alias in order to preserve their anonymity. I feel like it's the ethical thing to do, especially if the people I write about didn't ask to be written about.

The Boy Scout's name is David Hahn. Otherwise known as "The Radioactive Boy Scout," David Hahn built a nuclear reactor in his mother's garden shed when he was 17. This incredible story was covered by Ken Silverstein for Harper's Magazine in 1998 which was later turned into a book of the same name in 2004. Something of a chemistry prodigy, David Hahn fascinated me from the moment I learned of him. His story not only inspired Ken Silverstein, it also inspired Duran Duran's song "Playing with Uranium," one of my personal favorites. I've been researching his life and work in earnest since September 25th of this year in preparation of NaNoWriMo so you can imagine my excitement at getting in contact with the man himself.

The book that made David Hahn a minor celebrity.

I found out last night that David Hahn died 3 days after my NaNoWriMo idea was conceived. I spent an hour and a half crying over his death after I found out. I went through all sorts of emotions - namely guilt and sadness. I'm sure there's nothing I could have done to have saved him, but there's always that chance that if only I'd had my idea sooner - if only I'd reached out sooner. I don't know how he died, for all I know he was hit by a bus so this train of thought makes not rational sense, but this is how my brain works. It's a very narcissistic way of thinking and I know it.

More realistically I'm just very, very sad. I meant what I said the other day about wanting a connection. I feel this strange sense of loss for something I never had. I've invested myself quite a bit in this man as I've been researching his life for NaNoWriMo and I feel like I knew him. I feel a kinship to him that I don't know how to explain. There's something of a sameness between us, I believe, only now I'll never know for sure. I'll never know if we could have been friends, and for better or worse, I'll never know what he would have thought of my NaNoWriMo.

Aside from these selfish reasons for sadness, I'm sad because David Hahn seemed to have led a very lonely and sad life. I don't know a whole lot about his life after 2004, but what I do know seems rather bleak. He was a very talented person with the potential to do great and wonderful things, but the circumstances of his life hindered him in the pursuit of his dreams. He was an unlikely genius - a mad scientist perhaps - but a kind and gentle one with only the best of intentions. Though foolhardy and reckless, he achieved things as teenager in his back yard that college educated scientists in laboratories slave over for years. He was a diamond in the rough.

I don't know how he left this world, but I am sad that he had to leave it so soon. His birthday would have been next Sunday; he would have been 40 years old. All I can do now is promise to do my best to honor and respect his memory as move forward with my NaNoWriMo project and hope that I succeed in my endeavor. The first step of that is completing NaNoWriMo, which starts in 11 days. I can't let him down. This is about more than Duran Duran now.

I can't find a photo of Mr. Hahn that doesn't have some sort of proprietary restrictions so instead, here's a picture of the Atomic Energy merit badge he earned as a Boy Scout. This began his journey of atomic exploration and I like to think he continued to be very proud of it.