Confessions of a Pot Head, A Direct Missile of Meaning

“Herb is the healing of a nation; alcohol is the destruction.”

— Bob Marley

Well, howdy-do, howdy-do, howdy-do, how are you this morning? How did you sleep? We got 9 hours of perfect somber; my Queen is still asleep, the dog has been fed, and she is now outside doing what dogs do outside. We’ve got about an inch of snow here; she will keep busy for a spell.  

Was your weekend good? Did you relax and recharge? We hung out with our grandbaby and son, had some vittles with some other kids, got our toes done, and had some excellent food. We came home yesterday afternoon, got into our jammies, and watched some movies: just my Queen, me, the pup, and a fireplace.

I’ve got coffee scheduled with a new friend named Doug. I don’t know him, but we have many mutual friends; he reached out and wanted to get coffee. It’s comforting to know that your way of life is attractive to others; I’m looking forward to connecting with a new friend.

My son set up a Webull account, as did I. We will play with a little money in the market, betting, gambling like they do in vegas, not too much, just a little to get the blood pumping. I’ll think I’ll buy some AMC today; it looks like it’s topping out, but the market is doing some exciting things these days, find a rocket and ride it to the moon. I’m laughing that folks are using their newfound wealth to populate billboards across the nation, “sticking it to the man!”

God, I love coffee, I do; it’s my morning cocktail, dark, rich, black, thick, chunky, and delicious. I first drank coffee when I got into some trouble as a kid. My dad found a quarter of weed in my jacket, put me on house arrest for two weeks; there was an exception, I could work. So I called my uncle and asked if I could work at his store from 8 A.M. to 10 P.M.  I pulled a few 14 hour days back then between you and me; I’m glad dad found that weed; it allowed me to do what I love.  It was during those 14-hour shifts I fell in love with the black juice of honey.

I first smoked a joint when I was fifteen; I was ironically about ? mile from where I would live with my wife for 17 years. Two buddies and I scored three marijuana cigarettes from someone I’m still friends with on Facebook. We smoked the one during the day and took the other two to the annual fire prevention dance in Farmland, In.  This event was dripping in irony. Let’s celebrate the prevention of fires while we light this joint.

I smoked pot before school every day; I was what some might call a pothead. It’s funny people think pot makes you lazy, but for me, it has stimulated my mind, twisting my hyperactive thoughts to a direct missile of meaning. To me, marijuana allowed me to be normal; no longer was my mind racing, trying to make sense of the world; I could now focus with the help of a little plant.

When I arrived at college, my pot consumption increased. I have rules; I didn’t smoke during the day, I wait until my work is done, nothing shall interfere with my true passion, work. But once work was over, you would find me burning one with a friend in their dorm room or maybe mine. I was written up many times for the odor of weed but never got caught. Brad, our RA, was concerned about me, sat me down, and told me the dangers of drugs. How it was a gateway, it was only a matter of time before I would be doing mass amounts of cocaine, acid, and heroin. 

The idea that pot is a gateway drug is a myth. You don’t smoke a joint and think; I need a needle! I want to inject something into my arm. Truth be told, I’ve never done anything more than smoke a little weed. I like my drink now and then, but for me, pot has always been my safe harbor. It’s my friend and helps me navigate life; these days, I am more fond of ingesting an edible when in CO I would never do such a thing in Indiana; it’s illegal here.

I saw where a rural Randolph county man and his lady was arrested for growing some plants. These folks need to move 1187 miles west and do their bidding. I’m excited there are places in the world that do not frown but smile upon God’s plant.

I know many successful people who smoke pot, enjoy the devil’s lettuce if you will, and think it generational. My parents didn’t smoke; my kids don’t smoke; my generation X seemed to lean into this safe and effective mind alternate. My friend “Matt” is a dealer. He hooks his 85-year-old Mom up with THC cream for her arthritis. She’s been sharing at church about the wonders of this cream, and now a church in the Midwest had a bunch of church ladies enjoying the benefits of THC cream soothing their long-suffering joints. She’s been in pain for years, and this is the first thing that has safely removed her discomfort. I don’t think they call it pot cream; I think they use the term “magic cream.”

The roads where I live in Colorado are much better than the streets in Indiana. We, the state of CO, scored over 1 billion in taxes from the sale of weed. That’s a lot of money to dump back into the roads, schools, and infrastructure. For those of you against the legalization of marijuana, let me tell you a dirty little secret.  Thousands of Hoosiers are driving to Michigan and Illinois to get their weed. They bring it back, maybe share it with friends, the tax money will be injected into those states, not ours.

It’s time for all states to recognize the benefits of legal weed.  As a kid, I had no idea what I was buying. I would pay $25.00 and get a bag of something that they claimed was weed. Sometimes it was good, other times not so good, but today, I can walk into a store and know exactly what I’m buying whilst in CO. I can get a gram or Indica, Sativa, or maybe a hybrid.  I see the percentage of THC, how much CBD might be included. The products are endless with cookies, drinks, gummies, and even suppositories.   As a kid, I never envisioned getting high via my rectum.  What a beautiful time we live in; I’ll be heading back to CO in a couple of days; I’m talking pretty, and while there may or may not consume some Devil’s Lettuce.  If you are a betting person, but the money on “bong hits at 6:00 P.M.,”.  

“Herb is the healing of a nation; alcohol is the destruction.”

— Bob Marley