True story. The other day, an old friend of mine from Phoenix called me up to chat and catch up on things. And knowing I was CULTURE’s editorial head honcho, he also had a marijuana question to ask me. Actually, he had several. You see, Jimmy (yes, his real name) was pretty much a marijuana virgin. Sure, he’d smoked it once or twice here or there, but these instances aside, cannabis and Jimmy walked different paths. So he had a lot of questions. For example, he didn’t know the standard amount of medical marijuana; the concept of the 1/8th was utterly unknown to him. Funny the things we take for granted. But the one question he was dying to ask me was this: A friend of his had once given him some nice-sized nugs and Jimmy, for want of a better idea, put them inside one of those black plastic film canisters for safekeeping.
But he forgot about it.
So, months passed. Years; two years. And he suddenly remembered it. And at this point in his life, Jimmy had, well, he’d gotten curious about the virtues and benefits of cannabis he’d heard so much about. His sister-in-law was suffering from the effects of chemo and had tried marijuana for relief. Jimmy’s wife had even sampled some cannabis. She too had become curious.
But what Jimmy wanted to know regarding the contents of that forgotten film canister was this: Can I still smoke it? Will it have an effect on me?
First, I had my doubts that cannabis would survive this sort of suspended animation. And what I told him is that what was likely left was gonna be dried up, shriveled up and bone-dry—and likely not in any position to do anybody any good. It was just too damn old. He had missed the boat.
And when he opened up the canister, he realized I was right. All that was inside was a couple of dried-up, raisin-sized balls. “They used to be some nice buds,” Jimmy told me somewhat wistfully.
And the moral of this story? As we think about the New Year, let’s really take seriously what changes we want to make, what we’d like to do differently, what new path we’d like to follow. I for one need to drop a few pounds, start eating sensibly and get more active. I know, I know, not very original, but I stepped on a scale the other day and let’s just say I didn’t like the numbers I saw peering back at me. We have 12 brand-spankin‘ new months to determine a new destiny. Start now. This second.
Don’t wait until your dreams or goals end up dried-up little raisins.
Enjoy this issue!
From CULTURE
