Allow me to point out some recent findings by the National Drug Control Strategy. Seems the potency of marijuana is at it's highest since they started measuring such things. As the headline reads, 'This isn't your father's marijuana'. Well, damn, it better not be. It would be all moldy and stale if that was the case.
To quote this press release. 'As of March 15, 2007, the University of Mississippi has analyzed and compiled data on 59,369 cannabis samples, 1,225 hashish samples, and 443 hash oil samples confiscated by law enforcement agencies since 1975.' Now here's a study I would LOVE to be involved in!! 'Dude, this shit is POTENT! Must be some serious THC in this batch'. How about conducting this study within the Vaginal Laser Rejuvenation Institute in DC? Talk about utopia.
A question was asked the other day: If you could live one year of high school over again, knowing what you know now, which year would it be? I didn't even hesitate. Junior year. When asked why, I hemmed and hawed and basically said it was the year I had the most fun. Truth be told, it was the year I discovered pot. And discovered, then rediscovered, and discovered some more. Then investigated, experimented, then prophesied....you get the idea. I still have fond memories of the cops chasing us through North Reading while one friend dumped an entire bag out the window as another shoved his bong down his pants. His explanation for risking jail time, 'I just fucking made this thing. Took me 2 weeks to get it just right.' My response, 'make a new one, cause there is no way in hell I'm puffing on something that's been in your pants'.
Let's keep in mind we were both in the back seat of an Olds Cutlass that was doing 60 and swerving down any side street it could find. We were high, nothing phased us.
We got bagged. Spent time in NR Police Station while they tried to figure out if the weapons my friend had in his car were illegal or not (they weren't) and I tried to make stoned conversation with the cop behind the desk (did marvelously, I must say).
I'm still semi-convinced being high made me smarter. Or at least made me grasp concepts I couldn't have in a standard state. One night I completely interpreted and translated the exact sociological meaning of Pink Floyd's 'The Wall', down to each song. I then did the same with various Black Sabbath songs, only in a religious context. I sounded like a genius to everyone listening and actually had full and complete understanding of what it was I saying. For the life of me, I couldn't tell you one detail of what my point was today. In fact, I had forgotten it less than a week later. As had everyone at the party. The best summation was this: Long pause when asked to recount.....'Man, I can't remember, but it was AWESOME!'
Needless to say my junior year was spent getting well acquainted with Ms. Jane. We had a usual foursome that would smoke a few tokes in the back parking lot in high school. It would make me goofy (well, goofier than usual), it would make Joe paranoid ('the cops are looking at us, man, they can smell it!'), Bill would just chill and Brian would laugh at everything.
Of course being baked the last two periods of school wouldn't always go well. Especially when one of my classes was Spanish. I would often attempt to inject ill advised humor to a hard ass teacher. The highlight being a rambling, incoherent, over long question about how to conjugate a verb. Or something. When I got done the entire class was silent and I had forgotten what it was I was trying to ask. My most valuable lesson from junior year was not to try and understand another language while stoned. Even if it was entertaining to try.
Now I know what you're thinking....ok, actually, I have no idea. Too much pot can do that. But I can guess that you now view me as a space brained, hash smoker who drives around in a 1974 Volkswagen Bus and wears hemp clothing as a form of protest. That couldn't be farther from who I am. Besides hemp making me itch, I never became fully dependant on MJ. I just did it to get through the monotonous daily routine of high school. It was something different and made things funnier. Especially those Health class movies. Man, Bill and I would be dying laughing during 7th period. It got so bad we wouldn't even sit near each other, but it didn't help. We would look at each other and lose it completely. My motto 'It's all about the funny' originated during this era.
It also had the bizarre effect of having everyone view me differently. Just when I stopped caring about the idiots I was cursed to graduate with, they suddenly were interested in who I was and what I had to say. Probably something to do with not being who they thought I was. Or, more likely, thinking I would hook them up with some free joints. Whatever. I stuck with my friends and tolerated the fringe acquaintances. The exception being Kim, but she was an entirely different and completely understandable story.
I still smoked occasionally during college, but never as much and only because I didn't have the connections I had in high school. Plus, I never had as much money to spend on it as I did in high school. Books were too freaking expensive. I also spent much of my time discovering beer. And girls. Loved spending time with the girls.....
What was I saying?
On Saturday my neighbor pulls up and immediately comes walking across the street. 'Look what I just found', she says, and shows me a half empty dime bag. The flashbacks hit immediately. The smell, the look, the way it felt, the scattering of small buds. I was very tempted to 'confiscate' the Glad snackbag. She even offered it to me. Things have changed, however. I'm the father of two great boys who, questionable for them or not, look up to me and watch me to learn how to react to the rest of their world.
I'm done with that part of my life. I might smoke again, but I doubt it. I have highs now, that are legal and give me just as much - often more - satisfaction.
Nothing wrong with reminiscing about good times, though. Especially when I still laugh about them. Bill, Brian, Joe? You are remembered fondly, my friends. As are you, Mary Jane, as are you.
Today's distraction: Visit the site that proposes a 'Second Civil War'! They even have Rosie the Riveter. With a tattoo.