I should have known better.

Back in 2019, my Portland, Oregon, son-in-law invited me to share a pipe filled with, you guessed it, grass, weed, cannabis, pot, Mary Jane, ganja, dope, jazz cabbage, devil’s lettuce; yup, the stuff formally known as marijuana. Which, by the way, is strictly legal in Oregon.

As I’ve said, I should have known better. But the invitation came after he called me a “cool” dad, which my daughter heartily affirmed. So, not wishing to disappoint, I quickly said, “let’s burn!”

I should add here that it had been 20 years since I’d smoked a doobie and, before that, another 30. So, as the two of us embarked on a manly walking tour of the neighborhood, I cautiously accepted that pipe. Then, employing a technique remembered from my distant youth, sucked on it long and hard, holding my breath until my eyes practically bulged out of their sockets and my lungs felt ready to burst. And finally, just this side of exploding, blew it all out as my new marijuana mentor eyed me with growing alarm.

“I think you’ve had enough,” he abruptly announced, removing the pipe from my now-trembling hands. And thank God he did, for almost immediately I felt that old familiar sensation of the ground beneath my feet swelling upwards to consume me.

Only now it was ten times worse than I remembered.

“Oh, no!” I inwardly groaned. And for the next hour, steadfastly imposed mind over matter, struggling to maintain my composure. No, I told myself, the sky isn’t really full of undulating bubbles, and that tree doesn’t truly mean to do me harm.

All while silently chanting the most soul-soothing mantra of all: “This too shall pass.”

Eventually it did. And I swear, that’s the last time I’ve imbibed any green leafy stuff, except for an occasional salad.

Now I’ve learned that my perceptions—regarding both the intensity of the experience and those undulating bubbles—were right on target. A recent New York Times piece entitled “The Weed Got Too Strong” lays it all out: since its decades-old legalization throughout much of the US, commercial marijuana has grown 10 to 35 times more potent, sometimes inducing symptoms including psychosis, hallucination, paranoia, depression, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts.

It’s also become wildly addictive, engaging more daily users than either alcohol or tobacco.

“The shift is especially concerning for adolescents, whose brains are still developing and are more vulnerable to the effects of repeated exposure,” writes Sivabalaji Kaliamurthy, a child and adolescent addiction psychiatrist at Washington D.C.’s Children’s National Hospital and Howard University. “The conversation about cannabis in America is no longer just about its legality. The question now is whether we are willing to regulate and enforce product safety, especially to protect the most vulnerable among us.”

To be honest, I remember feeling pretty vulnerable as a youngster myself, even though what we smoked back then was many times weaker than what the kids are consuming today. The first time I tried it, in 1966, left me watching moonbeams careening off the nighttime luminescence of our backyard swimming pool like crazy lightning bolts bursting into hodgepodges of strange and wondrous designs.

“Wow,” I mumbled to myself, “I just…,” but the words trailed off.

That same year, I recall showing up plastered at a high school field trip to share glass-eyed conversations with an unknowing, bright-eyed teacher. Later, the experiences got more frightening. Like becoming convinced I was being chased while driving stoned down Hollywood Boulevard. Or reading the minds of people I imagined were about to kill me.

All of which eventually led me to swear off any future association with the terrible green stuff. Until, of course, my pot-smoking son-in-law convinced me to try it just one more time.

Bottom line: I share the doctor’s concerns for young people, especially my own children. Which is why I’m happy to raise them in the Philippines, where the rule is no smoke, no toke, and no burn.

Strictly enforced.

SUBSCRIBE HERE

David Haldane is an American journalist and author with homes in Southern California and Northern Mindanao. His latest book is Dark Skies: Tales of Turbulence in Paradise. This column appears weekly in The Manila Times.

Home

Walloping Weed