Pipe, Vaporizers, or Sancks…Which is Best?
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You have an option as to how you want to take medical marijuana. You can inhale marijuana either through smoking it or through a vaporizer. Of course the healthier option is the vaporizer as there is no irritating smoke.
11-hydroxy THC is thought to be four to five times more potent than regular THC. This is why edibles are known to be more potent when compared to inhaled cannabis. Edibles are also thought to be strong sedatives and many patients use them for treatment of insomnia.
Ever heard of a little place called Copenhagen? Well, if you've read any of Hans Christian Andersen's fairy tales, then you are familiar with the city of irrestible Scandinavian charm. Many of us would be freely willing to admit we have no clue where Copenhagen is. That's alright, folks, I'm here to help. Its the capital of Denmark, a cozy homogenous nation of 5 million Danes nestled in between Sweden and Germany on the crossroads of the Baltic and North Seas. Why should you care? Unknowst to many foreigners, and among its treasure trove of cultural and visual delights, Copenhagen has a lovable hippie district known as CHRISTIANIA. Beloved by the Danes for its cute laid-back charm, Christiania also happens to be a great spot for purchasing and enjoying some of the ol' cheeba. Thats right, you can buy joints, hash, and brownies right out in the open, from colorful stands run by a multinational collection of vendors. Is it legal? Its nebulous. Law enforcement has chosen to largely look the other way, except for intermittent crackdowns. Prices vary from about $4 to $12 per joint, and all are color-coded to indicate their price and quality. An abundant variety of hash is also on display, though somewhat less immediately smokable than the joints. Last but certainly not least, there are are edible options, such as cookies and brownies, for the more adventurous (or for those with debilitating asthma).
Why do you need to visit Christiania now? Firstly, yesterday was Christiania's 35th birthday, so there's that. But more importantly, the Danish legislature has put forward a plan to invest a large sum of money in Christiania, razing dozens of existing homes and constructing modern apartments. This could signal a shift in the Danish government's policy of tolerance towards the upstart community and their purveyance of soft drugs. So, here are some quick rules of etiquette and common sense to follow when taking pleasure in the finest green Denmark has to offer:
Do Not:
1. Do Not Run - One of the seemingly peculiar rules of Christiania, the tacit ban on sprinting or dashing about actually has a vital impetus behind it - when someone is spotted running, all the marijuana merchants immediately assume the cops are coming for a crackdown (these supposedly occur routinely, though I lived in Denmark for four months, and never saw one) and rapidly pack up their wares and ship off. You do want to be responsible for a huge buzz kill and many annoyed stoners. Snatching the icky out of the grasp of a pot fiend is not a wise idea. Stick to walking or calm jogging if absolutely neccessary. In fact, just ride your bike around. Don't cause unnecessary panic.
2. Do Not Take Photos - As tempting as it might be to capture the unbelievable panorama of stoner heaven that unfolds in front of you (to boast to your bongmates back at home), please refrain from taking a photograph. In fact, do not even bring a camera into Christiania. If any vendor so much as sees a camera, they are likely to physically wrest it from your grasp and do something unpleasant to it. Think for a moment - would your local street dealer indulge in your urge for permanent archiving in the act of performing a highly illegal and imprisonable act? Well Danes are not dumb. Just take a mental snapshot, and leave without photographic damage.
3. Do Not Smoke in Bars or on the Streets - So you've bought your pretty J and you're itching to get some of that THC in the bloodstream lickety-split. Hold on. Don't just go off strolling down Broadway, sparking up the goods. While Christiania enjoys a quasi-legality when it comes to drug dealing, the rest of Copenhagen is not quite such a nirvana. A particularly bad place to attempt to get high is in bars or clubs, where eagle-eyed employees will toss you out summarily or worse. Smoking in broad daylight is generally frowned upon, since you may have the misfortune of bumping into the 5-0 at any intersection. At the most, smoke only in heavily wooded and secluded public parks (the one next to Norrebro station for example), but in most cases, simply unwrap your shiny new joint tube right in Christiania and do your toking on the premises. In fact, there are some nice benches with a view of the canal that are just begged to be christened. The ambiance is perfect, and you won't spend the night in jail.
4. Do Not be afraid of the Huge Dogs - For some reason, European homeless and bums own some of the world's largest and most terrifying-looking canines. Perhaps the warmth of their enormous shaggy coats somehow compensates for the lack of an official residence. Nonetheless, a large contingent of Ice Age sized dogs is to be found in Christiania and may scare the living daylights out of even the most ardent dog lover. But fear not, these dogs are all bark and no bite; in fact, most of them don't even do much in the way of barking either, preferring to laze about and inhale the pungent fumes of dozens of tourists eagerly lighting up their wares. Putting your hand near their fangs is still not advised, even if the haze of pot smoke affecting your thought processes leads you to do such a foolhardy thing. Also carrying meat in your pockets is strongly discouraged.
Do:
1. Do Be Wary of Edibles - Word of caution to anyone considering eating instead of smoking - do not bite off more than you can chew. Even a seemingly innocuous cookie about the half the size of a fist can do some serious Van Damage to your sense of time and space. The vendors frequently pack a gram or more into a small pastry, and leave the consequences to the buyer. Girls are particularly forewarned, since they seem to have weaker tolerance to ingested THC. Just don't plan any afternoon festivities that involve higher brain functions (for example, differential equations, political debates) or vigorous physical activity. You will be out of commission for a while. That said, if you can set aside some time in your schedule, and you have a reasonable amount of experience with these types of things - get that cookie, lean back, and just enjoy the melodies. Weed soothes even the savage beast.
2. Do Splurge for nicer J's - Sure you can err on the cheap side, and blaze through some joints that will cost you less than a Lincoln. But this is Denmark, the land of Bang & Olufsen and the northern elegance and elitism that comes with being a welfare state. Go ahead and get a joint for 75 kroner (11 bucks), or 100 kroner (16 bucks). The vendors will be delighted to tell you which downtrodden third world nation grew this plant you are about to smoke, and you'll also have a much enhanced smoking session. Not to disparage the 25 kroner joints - one will still leave Christiania a happy man (or gal). You could also get one to save for a special occasion - that big promotion, or your brother-in-law finally earning his B.A. ten years after everyone else. But the extra money will mean a cleaner and more lucid high, you can be sure of that.
3. Do Buy a Shirt! At the terminus of the alley populated by the stalls, there is a semicircle of assorted trailers and clothes racks, with many shirts and belts and jewelry for purchase. Buy something! Not only are you getting a cool keepsake for showing off to the gang back home, you are supporting the local Christiania economy. As you can probably tell, these folks don't exactly have market employable skills, so throw them a bone and snatch up a shirt for your sister and your mother. Keep an eye out for the Bevar Christiania t-shirts with the three yellow dots - this is the district slogan, meaning “Save Christiania!” You can feel like you're sticking it to the man back in the US of A, even if you only cross when the light says WALK. And if one day the inevitable occurs and Christiania shut down, you'll have yourself a piece of history, a priceless piece of memorabilia.
4. Do Eat Danish Pastries - Once you've inhaled like Obama, get ready for a gastronomical adventure the likes of which you have never seen. There are several options for eats once you've purchased and lit up. You could start with a pizza or sausage right in Christiania, although the quality and source of the meat is very suspect. A more enjoyable experience is to be found on the outskirts of the district, where unbelievable pastry and bread shops await to tickle the taste buds. Go ahead and take your time, since the choice is mind boggling. Some classic options are the coffee cake, cinna buns, pretzels, and well…the DANISH. Of course, in Denmark, one would be committing a horribly awkward cultural faux pas by calling the pastry as such. Simply pointing to your desired item of delicacy will do, since most names in Danish are utterly tongue-mangling. Next, as abhorrent as the idea may sound…is McDonalds. In Copenhagen, McD's is not only one of the cheapest culinary options, but also a substantial improvement over its American fare. A promotion once existed of one Big Mac for 15 kroner, or two bucks. One could consider that the European version of the dollar menu. Don't be shy to chow down on some fries and nuggets - it will be packed with Danes anyways. Lastly , there's the multitude of options available on Stroget, the world renowned walking street. All-you-can-eat pizza and chinese take out are two popular options, though intestinal discomfort hours later may result. The most mouth-watering delight is the soft serve ice cream that is a staple of Stroget's food booths. DO not miss this. For about 20 kroner, or three bucks, your sense of taste will have a joy ride of pleasure.
5. Do have a Great Time! Praise those crazy Danes for perpetuating a great enclave like this right in the heart of their downtown.
And thats all! Remember, be safe, be smart, and you'll be laughing in no time.
Tags: medical marijuana, smoke cannabis, treatment of insomnia, vaporizer
Can Cannabis Help My back Pain
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For most back pain doctors use prescription medications like other NSAIDS (like Celebrex) or opiates (like Vicodin or Norco) can be effective at treating pain but can also cause many adverse and unacceptable side effects. The addictive potential of opiates is very concerning to patients who struggle with chronic pain and need relief; it is this concern that leads patients to consider using medical marijuana, a very effective treatment for chronic back pain.
If Michigan citizens have their way, Marijuana will be legal for those with chronic or debilitating diseases. Medically certified citizens would be able to possess and use marijuana legally under a new proposal on its way to the constituency in November.
State elections panel certified petitions with 377,975 signatures backing the plan, well more than the 304,000 minimum needed to put the initiative before voters if the Legislature fails to act on it within the next 40 days.
Current Michigan law prohibits marijuana use for any reason. But nearly a dozen other states authorize medicinal use by patients.
The Michigan proposal would permit patients to use and grow small amounts of marijuana for relief from pain associated with cancer, AIDS, multiple sclerosis and other diseases. Patients would be required to register and carry cards so law enforcement personnel could tell who was a registered patient with permission to legally use the drug.
According to Detroit News, voters in at least five Michigan cities - Ann Arbor, Detroit, Ferndale, Flint and Traverse City - have passed ballot initiatives allowing for medicinal marijuana use. The practice has been controversial in California, where voters authorized the sale of small amounts of marijuana at licensed co-ops. Those operations have been targeted by U.S. law enforcement agencies under federal law.
If Law is Passed, Where will Michigan buy their Marijuana from?
Many wonder if this has been thoroughly researched. The Michigan statute does not address the question of where the marijuana would originate from and it does not sanction sales. Without a complete plan is this a disaster in the making?
The Michigan Coalition is backed by the national organization Marijuana Policy Project. It provided almost all of the $1.1 million used to arrange the campaign and gather petition signatures.
Several reports, including studies conducted with government grown pot from Mississippi suggest patients get more relief from smoking pot than from prescriptions, with fewer side effects. The FDA continues to block many human scientific studies on the medical use of marijuana.
Opposition to medical marijuana has always come from law enforcement, especially national drug enforcement agencies. Surprisingly, thus far, no resistance to the Michigan crusade for Medical Marijuana use has surfaced.
Topical Application of Marijuana
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Marijuana can be used topically (on the skin) to relieve pain from certain conditions. The medication can be a balm, lotion, ointment or rubbing alcohol solution. This is not a new use for marijuana. In fact prior to the time when most many patients became available and people only had plants to use for medication, many patients would soak marijuana leaves in alcohol and apply them as a poultice to an arthritic or swollen joint. It is not known how the topical treatment works as researchers have not fully studied how the medication passes through the skin.
Over the course of my life, I have tried more hand and body lotions than I care to admit. Hempz Herbal Moisturizer is without a doubt my favorite. I have used more expensive name brand lotions, but they cannot compare to the moisturizing ability and wonderful fragrance of this product.
I was introduced to Hempz lotion by my best friend. She had a bottle of it sitting on her dresser, and curious, I picked up the bottle for a better look. I was surprised to see a label which contained a picture of what looked to be a marijuana leaf! Quite intrigued by now, I sampled the lotion. The fragrance alone, which can be described as banana mixed with a fresh floral, would have sold me on the product, but it was what the lotion did for my skin that impressed me the most. It is billed as an “all day moisturizer”, all day in this case meaning 12 hours, and it more than lives up to this claim. The ingredient behind this intense moisture is pure hemp seed oil and extract.
Hemp is the common name for plants of the genus Cannabis. It is normally used to describe strains of the plant that are cultivated strictly for non-drug use. So, though it looks like a marijuana leaf on the front of the bottle, it is a hemp leaf! The leaves look very similar, so it is easy to confuse the two. Industrial hemp is a different breed of the cannabis plant. Hemp contains less than .3% of THC, the active ingredient in marijuana which gives its users a “high” or “buzz”. So, hemp could be compared to non-alcoholic beer in that it has no illicit use whatsoever. Hemp oil is rather unique. It contains rich sources of essential fatty acid that are necessary for the body to function properly. Few oils can boast of the ability hemp oil has to absorb easily and quickly into the skin. This is because the EFAs are present in exactly the right ratio for optimum absorption into the body. Hempz also contains shea butter and ginseng, plus vitamins A, C, and E.
I was amazed at how long the effects of Hempz seemed to last, both the fragrance and the moisturization. My skin actually felt soft and smooth a lot longer than twelve hours. It isn't often that a beauty product does MORE than it advertises, and it's a joy when you find one that does. Hempz is a superior moisturizing lotion with unusual ingredients that made a dramatic difference in my skin.
I purchase my Hempz lotion from here.
Tags: Marijuana Lotion, marijuana medicine
Medical Cannabis and Insomnia
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Some patients find that cannabis keeps them awake but using a good Indica strain will combat this. As many patients know, illness, pain, the ability to recover and to have a decent quality of life all improve with sleep.
When I hear the name of President Reagen I think about the hard nosed fool who brought the unconstitutional war on drugs on the American people. Billions of dollars are spent each year hunting down, arresting, persecuting (not prosecuting) drug “criminals”, and locking them up. Giant government agencies were formed sucking up vast amounts of taxpayer money and all for nothing.
First off, what someone does to their own body is their own problem. If someone wants to shoot heroin, or smoke marijuana then let them. Freedom of Choice. Government should have no decision in the matter. Take a look at the prohibition on alcohol and what problems that solved. None at all, it just created problems. Al Capone and his hoodlums made tons of money off of bootleg booze and violence erupted because of it. The same is true for the drug trade today and has been for the last 30 years. Crack cocaine and crystal meth never would have been invented if there was no drug prohibition. People couldn't afford the good expensive cocaine and thus had to learn to cut it and mix with household chemicals, same with meth. The government effectively drove up prices and created cheap, highly addictive, highly volatile new drugs.
With that aside, all drugs don't even need to be legal, but they all should be. If marijuana alone was made legal, many of the US economic woes would be solved. This plant should be hailed and glorified not banned. The buds can be used for medicine. The stems/stalks are used to make clothes, paper, oils, lotions, and much more. This plant has never directly killed anyone. It is less intoxicating than alcohol. Why is it illegal?
How would marijuana solve the economic woes of the country you ask? First, it would get rid of all the non-violent marijuana “criminals” behind bars. Second, it would stop the paying of federal agencies to hunt down innocent civilians. Third, it could be grown as a crop creating many more jobs in the farming sector. Fourth, it would create jobs in the pulp/paper industry. New businesses would crop up to create marijuana processing machines. Operators would be employed to run these machines. Distributors would sell and market the items. Fifth, new industries would be created for legal hemp lotions, oils, clothes, wallets, handbags, flags, etc. Sixth, medical marijuana would be used for a great variety of ailments including insomnia, glucoma, pain. This would free up doctors, because patients would self medicate. All of these things would be taxable, meaning instead of money being spent by the government, money would be coming in to the government. Most importantly this plant grows in 30-60 days and can be grown year round indoor or outdoor making it renewable.
The most important thing though is that it would get rid of the violence that stems from the illegal drug trade of marijuana, effectively cutting off the money supply of drug dealers. If it was regulated and taxed like cigarettes or alcohol, the country would be much richer and the people much happier.
Tags: marijuana collective, medical marijuana
Medical Marijuana Tinctures
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Many medical marijuana patients are happy to learn about tinctures of cannabis. A tincture is an alcohol-based liquid mixture. It is like a concentrated extract. Currently there are tinctures of cannabis made with alcohol, oil or glycerin. It is a very effective way to use medical cannabis.
If you told your Grandmother to smoke a joint for her glaucoma she would likely say “No Way!” That is probably because she grew up in the 1930's when everyone thought marijuana would turn you stark raving mad. And that was after marijuana and its derivatives were used in tinctures and tonics. Let me explain. In the 1800's tonics and medicines were widely available over the counter which often contained THC. They were for everything from migraines to stomach aches. After the marijuana tax act in 1937, marijuana was forgotten as anything medicinal.
What Grandma doesn't realize is that marijuana would reduce the ocular pressure inside her eyes. It is often used for this exact purpose. Marijuana has been used as a medicinal herb for over 12,000 years! Twelve of the fifty states has laws regulating the use of medical marijuana. California was the first state to legalize its use in 1996 along with Washington. The other states that followed are Oregon, Maine, Alaska, Nevada, Colorado, Hawaii, Vermont, Montana, Rhode Island and New Mexico. All states have different laws concerning its use for medicinal purposes but, all have decriminalized it for patients with a prescription. There are clubs and buyers clubs that are licensed in these states for the sales of medical marijuana. They have restrictions and have a maximum amount they are allowed to have in their business. Many of these clubs are still raided by the DEA and people taken to jail. These laws are all local government laws. Marijuana is illegal in any use or form under federal law. For example, California has enacted proposition 215 which allows medical access to the herb, but federal officials have threatened prosecution to any doctors who prescribe it. Thus it is in a gray area of the law and will likely stay that way for some time to come.
In 1999, the Institute of Medicine conducted a report thats findings concluded ” The accumulated data indicate a potential therapeutic value for cannabis drugs, particularly for symptoms such as pain relief, control of nausea and vomiting, and appetite stimulation.”
If Grandma is still appalled by the idea, tell her that many people who have cancer find it very helpful with nausea and vomiting due to chemotherapy and other drugs. Some anticancer drugs affect the parts of the brain that control vomiting. Other treatments irritate the lining of the stomach. Marijuana calms the stomach and gives back appetite. It has also been used for anorexic patients to help them eat more.Believe it or not has even been given to children with ADHD and ADD. AIDS is another disease that marijuana can calm the effects of. Some people find that instead of taking powerful man made drugs for the side effects of treatments for disease, they can ingest or smoke marijuana, and feel it more a natural approach. It is often ingested in teas or baked goods made with cannabis oils. Cannabis has been found effective for nerve pain when opiate drugs did nothing. And unlike with powerful prescriptions, some of these people say they don't feel high and out of it, they just feel better. Marijuana has been found very useful to people with the crippling disease, multiple sclerosis.
In 2003, Montel Williams told his audience that he uses marijuana to ease the symptoms of his multiple sclerosis. He has said he eats baked goods and smokes marijuana after being on the brink of suicide from the pain he suffers. He has spoken to the U.S. Congress about the valuable effects the herb has on patients with debilitating diseases and pain. Williams says he uses it for tremors, pain and depression in lieu of powerful, addictive narcotics often prescribed. Montel is a powerful activist in getting medical marijuana legalized everywhere in the U.S.
Some groups believe that the pharmaceutical companies are helping stop the decriminalization of medical marijuana. They want their drugs to be bought and used even though they know that a lot of their drugs are highly addictive and each only work for a few medical conditions. Marijuana is known to be helpful for hundreds and hundreds of symptoms and diseases. These companies have tried to duplicate the THC found in marijuana and have made synthetic THC. It is found in pill form known as marinol. Users say that the drug does not compare to the real thing and does not work as well as cannabis.
As the government tries to stop patients from exercising their right to choose what medicines they use, we are stopping the people of this free country from being well and living prosperously.
Tags: cannabis card, cannabis club, Marijuana Doctor
Medical Marijuana and Cancer
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Dr. Donald Tashkin, Emeritus Professor of Medicine and Medical Director of the Pulmonary Function Laboratory at the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, has been studying the effects of marijuana smoke since the 1970’s. He was the lead investigator on the initial studies that identified the toxic components in marijuana smoke. He also reported the the studies that showed that there is damage from the smoke to the cells that line the upper airways of the lungs. His findings have also found that marijuana smokers are more likely than non-smokers to have cough, sputum production, and wheezing.
The Obama administration has decided not to prosecute medical marijuana users, in addition to medical marijuana dealers. Some political pundits believe that this is a move towards legalizing marijuana, however given the serious impact that the tobacco industry has had on the health of people in this country, what would the legalization of marijuana mean for Americans?
Specifically, what are the health effects of smoking marijuana?
While the media often portrays marijuana as a “soft drug”, marijuana can have devastating health effects on the casual user, despite legitimate medicinal uses of marijuana, such as for cancer and AIDS patients who have lost their appetite. Marijuana can have powerful psychoactive effects, due to the presence of Δ9-tetrahydrocannabinol, a psychoactive compound. The psychoactive effects of marijuana which include changes in perception, in addition to impairment in psychomotor coordination, can lead to motor vehicle accidents.
The long-term effects of marijuana may be devastating in a habitual user. While some studies have shown an increased rate of lung cancer among marijuana users who vaporize their marijuana, perhaps as high as 5.7 times the risk of lung cancer compared to people who do not smoke marijuana, other studies have not found an association. Surprisingly, marijuana contains some of the cancer causing compounds containing tobacco. Given the serious concerns, more studies need to evaluate the effect of marijuana on the human lung, and whether marijuana it increases the incidence of cancer.
However, the inhalation of any vaporized organic material over a long period of time made likely lead to significant lung disease, such as asthma, chronic bronchitis, and a higher number of chest colds. Some studies showed that chronic marijuana users have higher rates of respiratory illness.
Marijuana use has been found to be associated with anxiety, psychosis, and depression. However, it is still controversy over whether marijuana leads to the psychological disorders, or whether marijuana users are attempting to self medicate themselves for these disorders which developed before they began using marijuana. Because marijuana is a psychoactive substance, the long-term effects of marijuana on the brain could alter a person's ability to think. Clearly, more studies are needed on a long-term effects of marijuana on both a person's physical and mental health, given the possibility that marijuana use may be decriminalized in the United States.
Sources:
Legalized marijuana? We may already be on the way
http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/legalized-marijuana/story?id=8912772
Cannabis (drug)
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cannabis_%28drug%29
What Are The Long-term Effects Of Marijuana?
http://alcoholism.about.com/cs/pot/f/mjp_faq14.htm
Tags: Medical Marijuana and Cancer
Medical Cannabis Vs. Un-united States
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As California gets ready to address the outright legalization of Cannabis in November 2010. L.A.'s D.A. Steve Cooley has decided to take a slightly different approach regarding the medical marijuana clubs. Mr. Cooley would like to close down every and all legal medical marijuana collectives in the greater L.A. county area. Despite the fact that 74% of the voting public are fine with the current system.
Cannabis is a plant that has a recorded history of medical use that can be dated back to 4,000 years ago. It has been used for its various medicinal exercises all over the world, in places such as China, the Middle East, and India. People in China used cannabis to treat ailments like malaria (a disease that kills more than a million people a year (WHO)). Not a single case of overdosing on marijuana has occurred since its noted history, making it one of the safest known drugs. However, back in the 1930s, the U.S. government saw marijuana as a major national threat, and made it illegal. Even with its criminalization, almost half of America has tried marijuana at least once. The outlawing of marijuana was a process that was driven by yellow journalism, ignorance, and bigotry, and it's obvious that these laws need to change.
The two main people that drove marijuana to its criminalization were Harry Anslinger and William Randolph Hearst. Anslinger was the first Commissioner of the U.S. Bureau of Narcotics back in 1930. Hearst was a corporate tycoon who owned newspapers all over the country. Anslinger knew that the department he just became head of wouldn't survive on the seizures of opium and cocaine alone, so he started rallying against marijuana, a drug that he knew came from Indians, blacks, and Hispanics. William Hearst helped him in his campaigns, because hemp (which is commonly associated with marijuana) was a major competitor to paper mills, a big part of Hearst's newspapers. Harry Anslinger approached Congress several times, where he made such statements as, “reefer makes darkies think they're as good as white men,” and, “there are 100,000 total marijuana smokers in the US, and most are Negroes, Hispanics, Filipinos, and entertainers. Their Satanic music, jazz, and swing, result from marijuana use. This marijuana causes white women to seek sexual relations with Negroes, entertainers, and any others”. William Hearst's statements were no better, as he launched nationwide ads in his papers, making statements like, “marijuana influences Negroes to look at white people in the eye, step on white men's shadows and look at a white woman twice”. These statements of racism, along with countless other lies helped make marijuana illegal in 1937, despite its vast medical uses.
One primary reason marijuana should be at least nationally decriminalized is the fact that there is a long list of diseases and health problems that could be treated through cannabis, and the list grows larger every day. Cannabis can be used to prevent blindness for glaucoma patients. It is a very utilizable drug for muscle relaxation. Many studies show that people with rheumatism could benefit from taking marijuana. Another role for cannabis as a medicine is its use for cancer and AIDS patients. Chronic loss of appetite associated with chemotherapy and AIDS have been proven to be successfully countered by marijuana use. Nausea, which is also associated as a side effect with chemotherapy, has also been proven to be offset due to taking cannabis medicinally. Marijuana is the best known bronchial dilator, helping asthma patients (cannabis has been recorded to even completely stop asthma attacks). These are just a few examples of cannabis' countless medicinal purposes.
Another reason marijuana laws needs to change is the fact that they are one of, if not the most commonly broken laws in the United States. This might sound like a somewhat outlandish reason, but the Office of National Drug Control Policy says that almost 95 percent of American ages 12 and older have tried marijuana at least once of their lifetime. This accounts for 40 percent of America's total population. It doesn't need to be said that 40 percent of America isn't criminal. Neither is the 64 percent of people ages 19-28 who say they smoke marijuana on a regular basis. For the most part marijuana users are good, upstanding citizens. Still, more than 829,000 people were arrested for marijuana related crimes in 2006 (NORML), which exceeded the number of people that went to jail for all violent crimes combined, including murder, manslaughter, forcible rape, robbery and aggravated assault. People who get their driver's licenses taken away for marijuana related crimes are far less likely to receive a workers license (saying you can drive for working purposes) than those convicted of DUIs (even if a motor vehicle wasn't involved when caught with cannabis).
Marijuana has been around for a long time, and it has only been illegal for less than one percent of it's tenure of use. It's a drug that can be used for a variety of ailments, and it is even safer to use than all the drugs approved by the FDA. These laws that were established on racism and corporate greed seventy years ago are still affecting the lives of good people today, who are forced into prisons with murderers and rapists. The consequences of being caught with marijuana are far worse than the consequences of actually taking the drug, and that is why marijuana laws need some serious revising.
Works Cited
The Office of National Drug Control Policy:
Drug War Rant:
The National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws:
Jack Herer.com
Tags: Medical Marijuana Cards, Medical_Marijuana_Doctors
Medical Marijuana … Controversial ?
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Are you one of the millions of Americans that is suffering from sleeplessness or insomnia? It is estimated that one-third of all adults have insomnia.
Medical marijuana patients usually find that sleep is a wonderful benefit of cannabis. Many chronic pain patients experience insomnia due to their pain and find excellent relief and sleep when using cannabis.
While many people are finding relief from terrible diseases by smoking marijuana, there are also many people who believe that legislators should allow researchers more freedom to research this drug for legal medicinal usage. To date, 13 states have declared medical marijuana legal to use. The Supreme Court recently ruled that the federal government can continue to ban the use of medical marijuana. Justice Scalia writes that the federal government also has, under the commerce clause, the power to prohibit interstate commerce of this drug. Personal use of marijuana may not be commerce, but if our drug laws were working correctly, they would be perfectly enforced. Even as evidence mounts concerning the benefits of marijuana as a medicine, federal officials and agencies continue to bury their heads in the sand.
Written records on medicinal marijuana stretch back over 2000 years. It was first discovered in print in the 2nd century in a Chinese book of medicine. As far back as 1611, this plant was cultivated for its fiber in Jamestown, Virginia. In the 19th century, it was used to treat such ailments as spastic conditions, labor pains, insomnia, and even helped with appetite. It is still used as a medicine in the Middle East and Asia. Although modern technology medicine does not refer back to the medical practices of ancient civilizations, this only confirms that marijuana has had a significant medical history, and claims of its medicinal use were not just pulled out of nowhere.
Marijuana is a drug that comes from the dried, cut leaves of the hemp plant known as “cannabis sativa”. It goes by a number of street names such as “grass”, “Mary Jane”, “pot”, “reefer”, “herb”, and “weed”. The active ingredient in marijuana is delta tetrahydrocannabinol (THC). This ingredient targets Cannabinoid receptors that have been proven to cut tumor growth in half in common lung cancer. It has also been tested and researchers at Harvard University say it also significantly reduces the cancer's ability to spread. Cannabinoids are chemical substances in cannabis, or marijuana. Endocannabinoids are cannabinoids that are produced naturally in the body.
Montel Williams is a huge activist for legalizing medicinal marijuana since he was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis in 1999. He has debilitating knee and foot pain and has tried Oxycontin and a variety of other drugs with no relief. Then a doctor suggested he smoke pot and “immediately I slept through the night.” Williams is a registered medical marijuana user in California. He began pushing for medical marijuana laws after being stopped at a Detroit airport by an Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms officer for carrying drug paraphernalia. His charges were later dropped.
Williams told a Senate panel about his chronic pain and urged New Jersey to join 12 other states that have enacted these laws. The states that have currently legalized medical marijuana are: California, Washington, Oregon, Alaska, Maine, Colorado, Hawaii, Nevada, Montana, Vermont, and Rhode Island. New Mexico is planning on signing a bill in 2008. Williams will speak at two events in Trenton; a Drug Policy Alliance-sponsored news conference and a Senate hearing. Governor Jon S. Corzine of New Jersey said last year that he would sign a medical marijuana bill into law. “I break the law every day and I'll continue to break the law.” (Montel Williams)
This bill, sponsored by Sen. Nicholas Scutari (D-Union) lists cancer, HIV and AIDS, chronic pain, severe nausea, persistent muscle spasms and even glaucoma as conditions eligible for medical marijuana use. The legislation has never received a hearing, even though it has long been proposed. A 2002 poll found that 82 percent of the people in New Jersey supported allowing access to medical marijuana. Terrance P. Farley, an Ocean County assistant prosecutor told the Associated Press that the bill is only an attempt to legalize drugs. “This is how they're trying to get marijuana legalized”, he said.
Marijuana is listed in Schedule 1 of the Controlled Substances Act (CSA), the most restrictive schedule. The Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) supports that placement because marijuana met the 3 criteria about this drug: 1) marijuana has high potential for abuse, 2) the drug has no currently accepted medical use in treatment, and 3) it has a lack of accepted safe use under medical supervision. The Federal government should, at the very least, possibly downgrade it to a Schedule II, since it has been accepted for medical use in the United States. A past evaluation by several agencies, including the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), concluded that supported use of medical marijuana has no sound scientific studies and no human or animal data supported the safety or efficacy for general use.
During the Prohibition of Alcohol period (1920-1933), psychoactive properties of marijuana were left to criticism by the same forces that opposed the consumption of alcohol. Congress passed the Marijuana Tax Act in 1937, which made continual use of marijuana a criminal act. During hearings held before this act, a lone opponent, a representative of the American Medical Association (AMA), argued that banning marijuana should exempt it for medical purposes, at least. His testimony included the following:
There is positively no evidence to indicate the abuse of
cannabis (marijuana) as a medicinal agent or to show that
its medicinal use is leading to the development of cannabis
addiction. Cannabis at the present time is slightly used for
medicinal purposes, but it would seem worthwhile to main-
tain its status as a medicinal agent…. There is a possibility
that a re-study of the drug by modern means may show
other advantages to be derived from its medicinal use.
Marijuana was removed from the American pharmacopoeia in 1941, over AMA objections, and hope for further research or legal medical use came to a halt. In 1970, Congress restructured the drug laws with the Controlled Substances Act, which kept marijuana banned for medical use.
Marijuana has many substitutes, such as Marinol. Swallowing this substance, however, takes longer to work, has more adverse side effects and is more expensive. A year's supply can cost up to $15,000; too much, some said, for a flawed version of a weed that can be grown in any backyard. One reason many prefer to smoke marijuana rather than swallow Marinol is that it allows them to regulate the amount of THC that goes into their systems. Smoking allows an instant transmission of this ingredient to sites in the brain that control nausea, so when the anti-nausea effect wears off, they only need to smoke a little more if needed. Individual patients respond differently to different doses, and they can avoid taking too much, which is not possible with Marinol.
On the other hand, although several states have passed legal drug laws making smoked marijuana available for various medical conditions, the FDA, the DEA and the Office of National Drug Control Policy do not support the use of smoked marijuana for medicinal purposes. These measures go against their efforts to ensure that medications are proven safe and effective under the standards of the FD&C Act. Gov. Jon S. Corzine's proposal would allow chronically ill patients to medicinally smoke, eat or take marijuana in tablets. The program would be monitored by the State Health Department. The amount of marijuana would be capped at 1 ounce and the patients would be issued registered medical marijuana user cards. Bertha Madras, deputy director for demand reduction at the Office of National Drug Control Policy, said in a telephone interview: “We cannot base medical decisions on anecdotes.”
Researchers do not know why THC inhibits tumor growth; they say it is possible the substance activates molecules that arrest cell cycles. It may also interfere with angiogenesis and vascularization, which promotes the growth of cancer. Anju Preet, Ph.D., a researcher in the Division of Experimental Medicine says much work is needed to pave the pathway by which THC functions. “The beauty of this study is that we are showing that a substance of abuse, if used prudently, may offer a new road to therapy against lung cancer.” People hope that the federal courts and legislators will be allowed to take a closer look at the benefits, examine the evidence and conclude that we only want safe pain relief for the people who need it the most.
Tags: Marijuana Collectives, medical marijuana
Medical Cannabis Vs. Western Medicine
Posted by admin | Filed under Uncategorized
Marijuana Medicine has a long history of helping. Marijuana is not physically addictive despite what many anti-marijuana people want us to believe|Marijuana users can use it regularly, even multiple times daily, without any problem giving it up} A very small minority of people (heavy chronic users)| Since most people who use marijuana are not heavy chronic users this is not common at all. If you are concerned about any possibility of psychological addiction it is very easily avoided by taking time off from regular use. For instance, if you use medical Cannabis every day, you should take one day off per week or take one week off every three months.
Over the past twenty-seven years there has been much debate in America about medicinal marijuana and its effects on the human body. Many people argue that marijuana is an effective treatment for those suffering from Parkinson's or Alzheimer's disease. While marijuana may work well for these patients, it is not a remedy for all.
Marijuana has many soothing effects, that can ease the pain of a chronic illness, or a severe injury. A friend of mine, named “Gary”, used prescribed medical marijuana pills to help his suffering from pancreatic cancer. He told me on many occasions how the pills turned the degree of his pain down, and allowed him to function throughout a day without too much trouble. He also revealed that the pills increased his appetite, which had been severely degraded as a result of his chemo treatments. They were specially manufactured pills that did not contain the element, THC .
THC is a hallucinogen that produces a sense of euphoria, with a heightened stress on the five major senses. It can, however, cause many people under its effect to experience a heightened paranoia, or fear of things around them. With all of these fun, but somewhat dangerous effects, marijuana in medical form has to be altered.
The benefits of medical marijuana are great, but the negative influences on one's psychology are a concern. Long term use of the drug can lead to memory loss, both short term and long term. It also creates a sense of complacency, or lack of will. Science has not proven if marijuana, when smoked, causes lung cancer, but many report experiencing shortness of breath and other breathing problems associated with smoking it.
The original ban on marijuana in the United States began in 1937 when the Roosevelt administration crafted the first national US law making cannabis possession illegal in the US. This was enforced by waging an un-payable tax. Since being made illegal, thousands of American citizens have been sent to jail or hit with huge fines for the possession and cultivation of Marijuana. Recent studies have shed light on the fact that marijuana is currently the number one cash crop in the United States.
In conclusion, medical marijuana can be a viable alternative to mainstream medicine for those who can benefit from its effects. People must use caution however, as marijuana can lead to a devastating end if used in the wrong manner. The fact of the matter is, if you are incoherent you shouldn't operate machinery, or do anything potentially dangerous to yourself or others. It is my personal hope that marijuana can be used to help those who need it most.
DLP
Tags: ailments, chronic users, irritability, marijuana medicine, marijuana users, medical marijuana, medicine, moodiness, multiple times, psychological addiction, small minority, taking time, three months
Marijuana as Medicine
Posted by admin | Filed under Uncategorized
Marijuana Medicine can help with many ailments. With the recent death of Heath Ledger due to prescription drugs| more and more patients are examining their pill bottles and cannot help but be curious as to what their future holds. Doctors are so swift to write prescriptions for anti-depressants, painkillers, sleeping pills and tranquilizers. Most medical cannabis patients feel that they cannot function on the medications that they have been prescribed for pain, insomnia, depression, etc. and find that they function very well on medical marijuana.
“Um, is there something I can help you with, hon?” a little old lady at the front administration desk inquired, as she quit typing something with her keyboard for a couple of seconds.
“Um…yeah…for starters, don't call me hon!” Cade thought in the back of his mind. “I need a withdraw signature form so that I may get the ball rollin,” was all he opted to say out loud, however.
“Withdraw forms? What for? You're not thinking about an equivalency degree, are you? Not everyone accepts those, you know! It's much smarter just to stick it out and get your diploma!”
“Equivalency degree? What are you talking about? Do you ask this to everybody that comes in for a withdraw form; and why the hell do I actually have to stoop to your level to explain myself? My dad got a new job up in Spokane. The new company that just hired him is gonna pay to move us up there, and I'm transferring to a school up there to finish my diploma!”
“Oh? Well, at least it's a relief that you're gonna finish. Do you know what you gotta do to complete this form?”
“Not really. What, do you think this is, like, a routine procedure for me? What do I have to do to complete it?”
“You first have to take it to the library to make sure that you don't have any outstanding charges, and check in any books that you might have checked out on your account. Then, you gotta take it to the secretary and lunch ladies to make sure you're all clear there. Second to last, you're gonna take it over to the counselor and get her approval for your transfer. Finally, you must get this signed off by all of your teachers and turn in your textbooks. Once this is has been signed off by everyone, the last steps are for you and one of your parents to sign it, and to bring it back here before you take off. You got that?”
“Yeah, I do. I'll do it as soon as possible if it means not having to deal with bitches like you anymore. I'll have it back to you by the end of tomorrow, since, of course, that's my last day of class, and we're leaving two days from now.”
“Okay. And Cade, I wish you all the best of luck, wherever you're going to finish school.”
“Thanks. I realize that that was extremely forced, and you've rehearsed that for all of the dropouts and this school's outcasts that just happen to transfer elsewhere, but thanks.”
Walking out of the office, the six foot-tall Junior with short blonde hair, and donning a simple pair of blue jeans, well used Converse high tops and plaid button down shirt was well more than eager to get this all over with, and begin the new life he had in store; big city life, new people, new things to see, and most importantly at that point in time, a whole new high school with a new set of classmates. Being that this was his free period, Cade decided to begin the process immediately. One building over from administration stood a small office building which housed, amongst others, the offices of the Principal, Vice Principal, and the person he was on his way to see; his guidance counselor for the last two years and one quarter. Having the form ready to be checked off and approved, Cade prayed that he would be getting in and out as quickly as possible, with minimal cliché comments and remarks in between. However, he had braced himself for the worst.
“Um…yes, Cade; what can I do for you?” the woman with long black hair asked in a cheerful tone, peering over from an email that she was typing to another fellow staff member.
“I've got one of these, and you're the first person I am coming to in order to get this all figured out.” He handed her the form. Right then, Cade observed his counselor's facial expression going from jovial, to that of someone looking puzzled or worried about something.
“Withdraw form? You mean, we're gonna lose you, kid?”
“Uh…yeah! It seems that way doesn't it? But, it's for the better; my dad got a new job with a really reputable and well paying firm. It's the first time he's excited to be working for a company. And best of all, we get a moving company to do all the really hard work for us, and the company is paying for all of it!”
“Well, that's great to hear that things are looking up for you and your family, Cade. But, before I sign off and give you the okay to withdraw from Columbia High School, it's my job to talk with you about your intentions for your future after this.”
“Okay. For the last fucking time, I am NOT dropping out of high school. Go ahead.”
“Alright. First, for confirmation's sake, you're leaving Columbia with an intention of finishing your diploma. Is that correct?”
“Of course I'm gonna finish my diploma! All I'm doing is relocating with my family!”
“Okay, okay, Cade. I am sorry I asked this; you're not the first one to take that question the wrong way. But, where did you say you're moving to again?”
“Spokane.”
“Really? That's gonna be quite different than living here in Richland. Do you think you're gonna adjust well to living in the big city?”
“Yeah, I think so. I've lived here in Richland nearly all my life, but then a couple of times I went to Spokane and really liked the atmosphere and all of that. I am pretty sure that I'm gonna love living there.”
“Well, that's good. Do you know what part of the city you're gonna be living in?”
“I don't know anything about the area yet, though my dad told me that him and my mom just closed a deal and bought a house in a neighborhood called Hillyard. And I was told that as soon as we get there, I'll be transferring to Hillyard High School, which is really close to where we're going to live.”
“Hillyard? Did I ever mention to you that I just happened to not only get all of my schooling done at Eastern Washington University, but I lived in Spokane and taught in almost all of the schools in the Spokane Public district over the course of fifteen years?”
“No, I didn't know what, but what does that have to do with me going to Hillyard High and living in the Hillyard neighborhood?”
“All I can warn you about, Cade, is to be very careful when you're walking home when it's dark out. Compared to all of the others, Hillyard is probably one of the worst parts of the city in the terms of crime, gangs, and the abundance of drugs. And as for Hillyard High, let's just say that the term “school of hard knocks” is an understatement.”
“Well, it's a big city; what do you expect? How can this school be any worse than any of the others in Spokane. And probably what you mean by it being a bad school is that there are a lot of poor people and ethnic minorities that go there; generally anything but pretty rich white kids. I am sure that there are just as many drug, violence, and gang problems at the high schools everyone says are really good, as there are at Hillyard.”
“Oh, no, Cade. They all might have some problems with those things, but it's been proven that Hillyard not only is worst for these things, but even had the lowest academic performance records. Would you like me to pull up the statistics for you?”
“Uh…no, thanks; I'll take your word for it, Mrs. Carroll. But you know what? It's the closest one to my house, which means that it's the school I've been assigned to go to, so it looks as if I am going to just have to stick it out for the remaining year and a half I have left of high school. And hell, I might even make friends with someone who has something else to talk about besides their overpriced sports car their parents bought them, the sound system in the car, their new jeans they just shelled out a thousand dollars for, getting shit-faced at a party, or their latest conquests.”
“Well, I am really glad to hear that at least you've kept with you the concept of always trying to look on the bright side of life. But, do you have any plans to go to college when you finally do get your diploma at the end of next year?”
“Yeah. I'm gonna go the first couple of years at one of the community colleges in Spokane, and then I am going to look into either one of the colleges around here, or I might do online classes for the last couple of years, so that I'll be able to work full time.”
“Do you know what you wanna do with your life after high school?”
“Something not involving hustling, telemarketing, or the preparation of burgers and fries. Actually, as of recently, I have been giving that a lot of forethought, and I came to a conclusion that my calling is to become a music teacher. The study of theory, playing music, and getting to know artists old and new always has been my passion. I've even made a goal to start or join a band when I get to Spokane, but I know I need something to pay the bills.”
“Music? Why is it that I've never known that about you, Cade? It's my job to get to know every student that takes classes and works towards a diploma here at Columbia High. Why is it that I've never known this about you? That's, like, a hidden talent could take you really far!”
“Well, for starters, when I get started talking about something I know a whole lot about, it's really hard to shut me up. Therefore, because I know the potential, I keep it to myself at the risk of boring or annoying somebody that doesn't want to talk about it. And second, it's not really a hidden talent; I've jammed with some of the teachers here. And I even played in the orchestra and jazz band, and have spent a lot of time studying music of all kinds. And what's this all of a sudden with you actually pretending to give a shit?”
“Yeah, I know that, Cade. Every quarter, I receive your grades, and I see that you've never even gone so low as an A minus in those classes, or in your English classes for that matter. I just didn't know if that was not just because you always make good grades, or if it was something you really enjoy. What do you play? Do you compose songs, or do you write lyrics, too?”
“Yes. It seems as if every week, I produce at least a couple of new poems, which could be just verse, but a lot of times are lyrical. I go through musical autobiographies and magazines like water…at my own free will, and I spend a lot on CDs. Not to mention, I am usually am up into the wee hours of the morning writing on either reading something to do with music, or sometimes playing one of the instruments I play.”
“Oh? What do you play?”
“Or should you have given me the 'and you actually think I care' option? I have been playing the bass for about ten years, the drums for three years, and the saxophone for about five and a half.”
“That's kinda cool, Cade. You gotta keep on that! Follow your destiny, and that will come in great handy when you start teaching in a few years down the road.”
“Yeah? Well, that's the plan anyways!”
“Good. But, I guess I won't keep you for too long. It's just my routine procedure, when I get a student coming to me with a withdraw form, that I ask them such questions. However, given that you've now supplied me with good responses, I feel very comfortable signing off these forms and sending you on your way.” It was at that moment that Cade handed over the forms, and Mrs. Carroll finally signed on the line in her designated space. “Here you are, Mr. Wolenski. And remember what I said, keep your head up, keep working hard, and follow your dreams and aspirations.”
“Yes, ma'am. Thank you very much. Okay; one down, umpteen more steps to go!”
By the time the conversation with Mrs. Carroll came to an end, Cade's free third period was almost over, which meant that the all school lunch break was just a few minutes away. Getting mighty sick of about ninety nine percent of the same mundane federally funded food that was served in the school cafeteria on a daily basis, he yearned for something a little tastier. Nevertheless, he still did have to make his rounds to the cafeteria and get his form signed off by one of the lunch ladies. Much to his surprise, the visit with Geri, the school's friendliest and most seasoned lunch lady, was very brief; not because she wasn't in the mood to chat, but because there were a lot more finishing touches to be applied before lunch could be served to all the students.
Walking out of the lunch room, Cade produced a set of keys from one of the front pockets of his jeans, and checked his watch. As he unlocked the driver's side door of his older dark blue Ranger pickup and set his backpack on the passenger seat, he had forty five minutes to drive wherever he desired, get his food, eat it, and get to his favorite fourth period American Literature class. Turning the key in the ignition, Cade deactivated the emergency brake, shifted to first gear, and proceeded to drive off campus and towards George Washington Way; probably one of Richland's busiest streets at any given time.
Coldplay's Parachutes album hummed out of the speakers on the doors and the dashboard of the truck. As he breezed down the street at school zone speeds, en route to Subway, his chosen destination, Cade kept on thinking of the fact that in a few short days, the passenger side of his cab, would have a few small things inside, possibly his younger brother, Quentin, currently a seventh grader, and the trunk would be full up with various musical instruments, amplifiers, and other accessories. He kept on thinking of the fact that he had never driven such a long distance before; not to mention, while carrying so much extra cargo. However, after living in the small city all of his life, and after getting to know what the city had to offer and what a lot of the people were all about, Cade was eager to pack it up and drive the nearly two hundred miles up north to the big city. It was then that Mrs. Carroll's remarks about him moving into the Hillyard neighborhood and especially the ones about him being assigned to go to Hillyard High began to play back on repeat in the back of his head. At that moment, he also pondered all of the possible outcomes that could be in store; after all, according to Mrs. Carroll and a few of his mom's co-workers who also once lived in Spokane, everything about going to Hillyard was the complete opposite of the “good” schools like Columbia.
“Is it more like a war zone? Should I be careful not to look at someone the wrong way in fear of getting my ass kicked? Is it a lot like those schools you hear about on the news where the kids have been caught bringing guns and have sometimes shot it up? What exactly makes it so bad compared to the others?” By the time that he parked in the parking lot and walked into the restaurant, countless hypothetical questions arose in Cade's train of thought. Then again, the instinct he harbored to think outside of the box kicked in at just the right time. Time and time again, Cade remembered hearing a lot of people rant and rave, describing a school like Columbia as one of the absolute best around, in respect to its test scores, the minimal violence, drug problems, and gang activity; not to mention, the fact that the school had the best looking student body and atmosphere. On the other hand, in putting all of these positive attributes together, in Cade's mental observations, it made for an uppity student body, a thick cloud of smug wafting through the hallways and seeping into the classrooms, and the fact that if one was not in whose who, and could not afford all of the things that the “in-crowd” had, one was seen as nothing. It was at that moment that, while he had the typical jitters about making a transition to not only a new school but in a whole new landscape and environment, Cade was growing more and more excited about seeing what was waiting for him. He might've been transferring to the “school of the hard knocks,” as Mrs. Carroll so aptly put it, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about inhaling copious amounts of smug, like he had been for the last two years and one quarter.
“And would you like to make that a meal today?” the young girl in the green uniform and visor inquired, as she stuck a few napkins and Cade's freshly-made foot long Italian on white into a clear cellophane bag.
“Um…I don't want to make it a combo, but could I just get a medium drink with that?” Cade answered back, reaching in his front pocket for his wallet containing a few bills. Wanting to be able to just sit in peace before he had to make his way to American Literature, of which he loved everything about except for some of the classmates he had to work with, Cade then handed the cashier a ten dollar bill, and stuffed the change into his pants' opposite front pocket. After the journey down George Washington Way, Cade found himself worked up over the events and his ponderings of the day. With a little more than 25 minutes left before he was due back to class, Cade returned to the cab of the truck, lunch in tow, and shut the door. Needing to alleviate a little bit of his stress, Cade reached into the Ranger's passenger side glove compartment and produced a little slice of his favorite occasional indulgence; a pack of Marlboro Light 100s. Opening the pack, he took one of the all white cigarettes out and pursed the filter between his top and bottom lips. Returning the half full pack to the glove compartment, Cade punched the lighter in the instrument panel. Once it was ready for him, he lit up, and took a couple of drags as he once again started the ignition and drove off back to the campus.
Cade returned to the Columbia High underclassmen student parking lot, just as he took the last drag of the cigarette and extinguished it in the truck's ash tray. Still with twenty minutes to spare and no desire to mingle with his other fellow classmates, Cade locked his doors, and switched discs as he began to eat his sub briskly, but still slow enough so that he could actually taste it. With Zoso now blasting out of the speakers, Cade savored every bite of his favorite sub, and every sip of his cup of iced tea. Finally, with fifteen minutes to spare before he would have to be in his seat and ready to go in his next class, Cade turned off the truck, set the emergency brake, locked everything up, and made his way back to the campus' main building.
Needing to exchange his two books from first and third period (he had gym class second period), Cade entered the main building on his way to the foyer of which his, amongst other juniors' lockers were housed. Simply wanting to get over to his locker, make the exchange, and make his way over to his next class, Cade turned the corner to the right row where his locker was, only to discover one more hurdle too many to jump over; Megan and Alli, two well-adored and well-off daddy's girls were carrying on a seemingly endless conversation about a party from the weekend before, their latest shopping trips, and some other things that he never really could comprehend. Cade couldn't really care less about ninety nine percent of what came out of the mouths of any particular member of that very exclusive clique; however, for the fact that Alli was situated against his locker, hindering him from being able to open it up and do what he had to, it temporarily changed everything.
“Um, Alli; I don't mean to butt in on the story you're telling, but you're on my locker, and I gotta get in to grab my books and go to my next class!” Cade requested, defiantly. While this was said in a friendly manner, Cade sort of could predict, but never expected how the next few minutes played out.
“Uh, no; you're rude, you fuckin' creep!” Alli blurted out at a volume that was quite possibly within the earshot of anyone within a half-mile radius. “You don't interrupt someone when they're speaking; and last time I checked, it was a free country, so that means I can be here whenever I damn well please!”
“Could you just step aside for a minute? I need to get my books, and I've gotta get to class! Is it that hard of a concept to wrap your head around?”
“No, it's not; you're just bein' fuckin' rude!”
“Whatever; can't you quit thinking of yourself for a minute so I can do what I need to? Then, I'll get out of your way, and you can flap your gums to your heart's content!” And then, to add insult to injury, one more person entered the scene of whom Cade surely would not miss once he relocated; wearing jersey number sixty six, and adored as the school's star quarterback, it was Alli's boyfriend, Aaron Davis.
“Uh, what'chu doin' here ya fuckin' faggot?” Aaron exclaimed, once again loud enough to wake the dead. “Not only is she way outta your league, she's mine; so quit hittin' on her!”
“Seriously, what in the hell have you been smoking? I know she's out of my league; hell, I wouldn't even touch her with a ten foot pole; why would I hit on her? Hitting on her? Dude; I walked over here to get my books for my next class, she's leaning against my locker, preventing me from doing that. I asked her to move off of it so I can do what I gotta do and go, and she creates a big stink. It's not really my bag.” At that precise second, the last thing that Cade needed was for Alli to throw in her two cents yet again.
“I was gonna move for him; but he's really being rude. He's a creep, baby!” Alli cried, as “her man” proceeded to put his arms around her, and planted the first of many kisses for that session on her metallic-looking glossy lips. Right then, Cade began to grow quite nervous about getting to class on time. Still without making the book exchange, the five minute warning bell sounded off, now with Megan gone, and with Alli now completely blocking his locker, engaged in a full on make out session with Aaron. That is, until Alli looked over, seeking out the last laugh.
“Um, what the hell are you doing standing there, you fucking pervert? Why are you watching.” With Cade not saying anymore, Alli and Aaron then decided to finally move over a couple of inches, now leaning against some other poor sap's locker. Trying not to look at the side show attraction to his right, Cade cracked his combination, made his exchange, then ran off to American Literature, taught by his favorite teacher, Mrs. Warden.
The class was just as normal as he expected; in the back of the class, there sat the a few members of the group known for scoring high on drug and breathalyzer tests, but not on their report cards. On the side of the class were a few more of the “holier than thou” popular types; the kind that only picked up books to make the grade, and only would do, see, buy, or listen to something if it was trendy. And then there was the circle on the opposite side that made up the rest of the twenty four students in that class that period; those who either loved to read, were passionate about books, writing, or other forms of art and/or something to do with computers, and would much rather spend the night at a Shakespeare play or book circle, or all night LAN party instead of a keg party. Many others lumped all of these folks under the “Geek” umbrella. However, despite some differences in interest, all of these said people always had cohabitated peacefully; many times they would work together during group discussions, and some from, say, the computers camp would hang out with the “book huggers” as they so aptly dubbed themselves, outside of class and were good friends. Now, Cade, while a self-proclaimed book worm, never really hung out with many of them, because spent a lot of time practicing and playing music, but he had respect for all of the rest, and even had gotten to know some of them a little bit.
“Mrs. Warden, I've got a little something to hand to you before class starts. I'll need it before I leave to go to my next class,” Cade mentioned as he set the very partially completed form down on her desk.
“What is this, Cade? Wait…withdraw form? I thought you were going to leave when the semester ended! This means that tomorrow's your last day?”
“Well, tomorrow's the end of the first quarter, isn't it?
“Yes. But, this breaks my heart to see you going so soon! You've always had the one of the best grades in all three of the classes you've had with me. Whose going to bridge the class when it gets dead, and kill the curve when we have tests?”
“Well, there are plenty of people in this class that really like the stuff we read and study, so I am sure somebody will take my place in no time flat.”
“True. But, this means I gotta jot down your grades and you gotta turn in your books. But I'm only gonna do this on one condition, Cade?”
“And what is that, Mrs. Warden?”
“You have to promise me that no matter how busy you are, no matter what you find yourself up to, or whatever, you must keep in touch with me? Deal?”
“Of course it's a deal. But before I forget, here's my books that I had checked out from you. This means that you can check off that I did that, too.”
“Yes. Yes I can. And on the final note in this regard, I am looking at your grade to jot it down, and you're leaving my class with a ninety six point four percent, which is well above the line for a solid A from me. Nicely done, Mister Wolenski!”
“Thank you very much. But hey, between you and me, of all the people that I've met here while going to Columbia, I never made any true friends besides you; you're the only one I am genuinely going to miss.”
“Well, that feels really good to hear that. However, in that regards, I really hope that the people in Spokane, and the big city will be a lot kinder to you, and that you will deservingly expand your circle and build yourself a good support system. You are one great musician, and I know that in teaching, composing, and everything else, you'll go very far because you give everything one hundred and ten percent. Don't ever let anything stand in your way.”
“Yeah; that's the plan anyways. But, I think I should take my seat now. But oh yeah…one more thing.”
“What's that?”
“Well, I was really looking forward to reading the Hemingway shorts and the book A Farewell to Arms that you had on the syllabus. But I promise you that when I get to Spokane, I'll read it and email you back to tell you how I liked it.”
“Ah. Good. I am pretty confident you'll like it. However, if you really want a good one, you gotta try The Sun Also Rises.”
“I'll make a note of that.”
At the tail end of that conversation, the beginning of period bell sounded off yet again, and class got under way. This was the ideal time for Cade to leave the class anyways, as they had just finished reading their second novel of the year, Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn. Although his true passion lied in music and everything about it, Cade also was a closet classic literature enthusiast, spending a lot more of his late nights, when not composing music, with his nose in something from generations past. On that token, Cade also not only made good friends with Mrs. Warden because she was very open minded and a true friend and mentor to him, but also because the conversations that she lead in the class about classic literature, controversies around certain pieces, and anything else in between, never failed to be thought provoking and daring. Just recently, as a matter of fact, the class, in light of something that, surprisingly, made the national news, and all of the debate talk radio and cable television shows, the class just, a couple of days ago, had one of the most lengthy, lively, bold, and thought provoking conversations that Cade had ever helped carry on in a group.
A few weeks back, the story surfaced in every newspaper in Washington, Idaho, and Oregon, of Huckleberry Finn being recently banned from yet another school district's curriculum and libraries. The premise? Because the book served as being anything but sensitive in the treatment of the touchy issue of racism, especially in the use of “that dirty N-word” as Mrs. Warden called it, that flowed liberally out of the mouths of southerners back in that time. Some people in the class agreed with the ban of the book, because they saw clearly that the book was very brash and insensitive towards the African American community on a lot of levels. Cade, with the assistance of a few other fellow “nerds” did their best to play devil's advocate by countering with the concept that the book was not intended to promote racism, or just to be as vulgar as possible with the use of such horrendous words, but rather to blow the racism epidemic so out of proportion in a satirical sense, coupled with the use of irony and a protagonist that was obviously uneducated in several respects, that people would see how stupid the segregation and bigotry of the time really was. Quite a few people, including Mrs. Warden bought it, including one of Cade's group members, who just happened to be African American, and actually had enjoyed reading the novel. However, some people gave Cade the classic eye-roll, or tried to split hairs with his logic. On the other hand, most of them who begged to differ didn't know what they were talking about, and only took the content of the novel at face value.
“Alright class; remember to please have the book finished by tomorrow. We'll talk about it in class, and then when we come back after the weekend, I'll be assigning the paper on it, and you'll be taking the test. Have a good rest of the day everyone!” Packing up his things, Cade, now with his back pack one book lighter, walked out of the classroom, off to finish his other two classes, get his needed signatures and turn in his books. Two hours later, he had done just that, and informed both his Geometry and Chemistry teachers that tomorrow would be his last day at Columbia High School. Neither one seemed horribly heart broken, though both did give him the form letter “I wish you the best of luck” blurb as he prepared to leave following the day's lesson. Now, with all of his books from the second half of his day turned in, and with two more signatures and grades; a C+ in Geometry and B in Chemistry less to worry about, Cade weaved through the crowd of students of various ages, out the door, and toward the parking lot where his truck sat waiting for him.
Stepping off of the sidewalk and onto the asphalt of the underclassmen's parking lot, the scenery all around him was relatively typical; students in groups climbing into each other's cars, bound for fast food places, or sometimes each other's houses. Some of the more popular kids popped their hoods and trunks, showing off new features inside their cars, especially upgrades to the sound system. And of course, what high school parking lot wouldn't be complete without young (heterosexual) couples showing some flashy public displays of affection in the beds of pickup trucks, in the driver and passenger side seats, and sometimes in the backseats of parked cars? Nevertheless, as always, Cade dodged it all, ready to get home and continue to pack up some of his stuff, and get it ready to be put in one of the trucks.
A few yards away, Cade took his set of keys out of his pocket, approaching his Ranger yet again. But as he made it to the door, he noticed somebody beat him there with the keys, and the evidence was painfully obvious. Sometime between when Cade drove back from Subway and had gotten out of his sixth period Chemistry class, somebody had come along and deeply gouged the words “COCKSUCKING FUCKING FAGGOT” into the paint job of the driver's side door and part of the panel of the truck's bed. Infuriated, and now realizing that it would cost him a pretty penny to get it fixed, there still wasn't much else he could do about it. After all, if he was to call the police, there would be absolutely nothing they could do, and the chances of whether they would care were slim and none. Calling the insurance company might get him a little help in getting it done, but there would be way too many hoops to jump through, and his rate would skyrocket. And worst of all, Cade had a very good idea of about three or four people, based on their disposition and unwarranted animosity against him, that just might've done something so vile and vindictive. Though trying to take things as a mature adult, he could not jump to conclusions, and was forced to bite the bullet. Still seething with anger, though, Cade got in once again and drove off, this time bound for West Richland, the little tiny Tri Cities offshoot that he and his family had called home for well more than even the duration of his life.
Going the now reduced speed down George Washington Way, en route to the turnoff that would take him to West Richland, Cade made a stop at a red light, waiting to make a right turn. As he waited for traffic to clear up before making the turn, Cade felt the need to relax yet again, pulled another cigarette from his glove compartment, then opened the window, lit up, and took drags as he steered with his left hand and shifted with his right. Being what time of the day it was, it was never possible to expect to hit a green light, but rather have to stop behind a line of cars every few yards or so. Now having made a turn on Van Giesen street, one that was also the main road in West Richland, Cade stopped at yet another red light, shifted to neutral, and took a few more hits off of his cigarette. Just at that moment, Cade overheard a very loud engine, which sounded like it was approaching the light in the lane opposite to him. The engine yet again revved and a loud horn honked. Cade thought nothing of it until he peered over and had a look at what just pulled up next to him. It was an older black lifted Chevrolet pick up truck with giant filthy monster truck-style tires and with dried mud adorning about half of the body. Cade still couldn't piece together who it was, until he noticed a Columbia High parking permit hanging from the rear view mirror, confederate flags waving atop, a decal declaring “REDNECK” across the top of the wind, and a young, unshaven male wearing a camouflage hat and donning a white sleeveless shirt in the driver's side and a similarly dressed companion on the passenger side. It was then that Cade now had a very good idea who added the new decorations to his truck.
“Hey, cocksucker, nice paint job!” the passenger, who was a puppet of the driver, screamed out the window. “It's really fitting for a faggot like you!”
“Yeah, it's great, you fucking creep! Still, what kind of man are you that you've gotta speak for your little buddy whose driving the truck. If it wasn't for him, you'd be totally different, and you sure as hell wouldn't be talking to me like that; mark my words.”
“Yeah, I would, 'cuz everyone knows you're a fuckin' cocksuckin' faggot! Why else did me and Daniel here take the time to let everyone know it!”
“'Me and Daniel?' Seriously, Clay; I know you might not really care about school and all, but how in the hell did you end up passing middle school English. Your grammar is uncannily horrible!”
“Whatever. Well, enjoy sucking dicks and taking it up the ass tonight, ya fuckin' faggot!”
Right then the Van Giesen light turned green, just as Daniel began to rev his engine yet again. Being smart, and a little bit afraid of what he would do to him should he get too close to him while in motion, Cade let him pass, flying down Van Giesen, weaving through lanes at freeway speeds. As he pressed on the gas and began to drive, progressively shifting to fifth as he gained speed, Cade drove within the speed limit as he turned up the volume of John Coltrane's My Favorite Things, an album that always managed to stay inside of the truck's glove compartment.
Daniel, of whom had always loathed Cade since early middle school, and Clay, as of the eighth grade, were two people Cade had grown accustomed to being abused by; mentally, and on a couple of occasions, physically. In a nutshell, the two were best friends, and in their free time, they would drive out a distance to go hunting with big guns for whatever was in season at the time. Both took the label of “Redneck” in stride, and held sacred all of the things that gave southerners a bad name; being racist, staunchly homophobic, and holding true to the ideal that women were not mates, but rather property. There were very few African American and Hispanic students that went to Columbia High. Though of the few that did go there, both always had gotten away with and were never even reprimanded for referring to said students not by name, but rather with “filthy wetback” and “lazy nigger,” amongst others. Daniel, especially, held very firm what was manly and feminine, and believed that men and women should only adhere to these guidelines, respectively. For men, the right interests were football, hunting, four by four racing and mud play, and the occasional fishing trip. In every case that Daniel met another male who, say, didn't like sports, listened to the wrong music, or didn't dress like him, automatically would find themselves on his bad list right next to anyone of African or Spanish-speaking descent. But while the former would be called “wetback,” “spick,” “beaner,” “border jumper,” or “nigger,” the latter would have to withstand the labels of “faggot,” “homo,” “cocksucker,” “fudge packer,” and be informed on countless occasions that they would be “burning in the deepest pits of hell in no time flat, only after dying of AIDS,” as he would so often put it. Certainly, this was not someone who Cade had ever acquired a taste for, and was counting his blessings that they would never come in that close of proximity of each other ever again after tomorrow.
Tonight marked the second to last night that would be referring to his final destination, the Beaten Path Trailer Park, as his home. Aforementioned younger brother Quentin, his mom, Kimberly, and his father, Paul, had lived there for a very long time. The neighbors had never really been that nice, and a couple of houses down, there lived a middle aged man of whom Cade's family knew used and sold marijuana. Several of those along his street, at least a couple of nights a week would be throwing loud, alcohol-fueled parties deep into the night, though the local police never really seemed to care less. But on a different token, Quentin and Cade were routinely ridiculed by their peers, and in some cases looked down upon by teachers because they not only lived in a trailer park, but because the family didn't have even half of the money of other kids that went to Columbia High or Lincoln Middle School, where Quentin attended. Kimberly and Paul alike had been praying for the last few weeks that all went through smoothly in all the transitions, all of the moving, and especially that the students, teachers, and the environment would be a much more positive one for their sons.
Still thinking about all of this in the back of his mind, Cade finally made it all the way down the street to his family's mid 80's blue and white double wide. Knowing exactly what to expect, Cade didn't even ask questions in the back of his mind about the full size Dodge truck that was parked in his normal space on the side of the road. He had been informed the night prior that two guys from the van line would be coming to start wrapping up the first items, and getting them ready to be put in boxes and loaded into the 18 wheeled moving truck. Early in the morning after Quentin and Cade's last day at Richland schools, the family would be packing into their vehicles and making the two to three hour journey up to Spokane. However, the moving truck would not be making it to their new house until the day after that. Not to mention, Paul and Kimberly still had to sign the last forms for their new house and mortgage loan, and would be spending that entire day taking care of such business. Therefore, they would not be moving into the house that day, and the boys wouldn't be registering at their new schools yet, but rather would be staying at a hotel for the night. That day they would be arriving in Spokane and staying in the hotel, Cade and Quentin planned to go exploring a little bit, and actually spend some long overdue quality time with one another. The family of four was very close, but quality time with one another was very rare, and was done at different designated times.
“Hey, Ma, I'm home!” Cade exclaimed as he turned the key in the lock and cracked open the front entrance. Almost like clockwork, the family Beagle, Todd, came running over, very excited, rolling over for his always expected belly rub. Cade set down his things and, like always, bent down to satiate this request that Todd had come to expect.
“Hey, honey!” his mom began, in pretty good spirits. “How was your second to last day at Columbia?”
“The class part was decent, but there's now one more place I'll be going when we get to Spokane that I didn't expect.”
“What's that?”
“The paint and body shop.”
“What? Did something happen to your truck?”
“Nothing happened that I did. But I parked it in the student parking lot after lunch and went to my last three classes. When I came back, that little redneck bastard that beat the living crap out of me last year and got away with it saw fit to key into the driver's side door and part of the bed, very deep into my paint job nonetheless, 'COCKSUCKING FUCKING FAGGOT.'”
“That is bullshit, Cade! Did you tell anyone?”
“It was at the end of the day, and I know that the principal and everyone else I would have to go to would've been gone. And frankly, what would they do; they'd just tell me I didn't see with my own two eyes who did it, so I can't make assumptions. And the same thing would've happened if I called the cops.”
“I never thought of it that way, but still, how do you know for sure it was that little fucker Daniel? And frankly, how on God's green earth does he get away with doing shit like this?”
“I don't know. But I know for sure that it was him, because as I was driving home, he pulled up right beside me, and his little friend admitted that they did it, amidst several times of calling me a 'fucking faggot' and a 'cocksucker,' then telling me to 'have fun tonight sucking dick and taking it up the ass.'”
“Oh, that's just beautiful. Great words coming out of his mouth; his parents must be so proud of his much extended vocabulary. But even if he hates you for no good reason, what he did was totally uncalled for. Maybe your dad will be able to help you out. Paul! Paul; could you come here a minute?”
Out of the master bedroom, where knick knacks and things were being wrapped in paper and bubble wrap, a six foot tall man with dark hair, gold-rimmed bifocals, and still in his work clothes, stepped out into the living room, noticing that his son was home. “What? What's going on? I'm helping wrap up the little figurines on the shelf in here!”
“Your son has been the victim of somebody else's shit yet again at that fucking school!”
“Why? What happened?”
“Well, you remember that little bastard, Daniel, who last year beat the shit out of Cade, unprovoked, and incessantly saw fit to call him the filthiest of names, all without any discipline?”
“Yeah? What did he do now? You didn't provoke him or try to throw a punch at him, did you Cade?”
“No, this time it wasn't physical abuse. After Cade parked when he came back from lunch, Daniel took a key to Cade's truck and carved the words 'COCKSUCKING FUCKING FAGGOT' into the driver's side door and part of the bed, which is really visible and obvious.”
“Oh, that's nice! What kind of fucking school is this, where this kind of crap is not only ignored, but is seen as perfectly okay. We're gonna have to take that to the body shop to get it repainted, it looks like. It'll have to wait a little bit, though. I mean, how bad is it?”
“Cade will show you.”
With that, Cade and Paul walked out of the house, so that Paul could see just how bad the damage was. After this was seen, both came back in, so that everyone could get a little bit more packing done, as the start of the big move was only a couple of mornings away. Paul kept the door open of their bedroom, so that he might talk to his wife, who was relaxing, and half heartedly watching CNN. Cade stepped out of their living room, and down in the hallway where three doors led to three different rooms. To the right of him was he and his brother's bathroom. Straight down the hall was their dad's office. Then, on the left of him was he and Quentin's room, of which was open, and hip hop music at a moderate volume permeated out of. Cade walked in and set his things down, only to find his little brother in the midst of packing up some essentials.
“Hey, Cade! How was your day?”
“Um…positively shitty! Did you just hear what happened to me today?”
“Not really; I was in here putting stuff in boxes. What's up?”
“Remember that little bastard that beat the shit out of me last year? Daniel?”
“How can I forget? Daniel's brother and sister both go to Lincoln, and their both major bigots with violent tendencies; quite sickening.”
“Yeah, well, while I was in class, he and this other little fucker named Clay saw fit to key into my truck 'COCKSUCKING FUCKING FAGGOT.' Looks like you and me will just have to put a tarp over everything over the bed, and hope nobody gives us any dirty looks as we drive up to Spokane.”
“How in the hell does the little bastard get away with it? If I did something like that, they'd throw me out faster than he could scream 'Hail Hitler!'”
“Beats me, man. But hey, how was your second to last day at your own respective shithole?”
“Just like you described it, bro; same old crap, different day. I think you and I are most definitely in the same boat in hoping that our new schools are a lot better.”
“Well, you especially better hope Hillyard's a lot better than Columbia, because from the sounds of it, I believe that's the one you'll be going to when you're ready for high school.”
“Yeah. Mom called the school district up in Spokane today, and she found out which middle school I'm gonna be going to.”
“Oh yeah? Which one?”
“Garrett Junior High.”
“I haven't heard anything about it. But did your counselor have anything to say about it when you talked to him and got your withdraw form?”
“Actually not. I really have no idea what to expect. All I can hope for is that people are more accepting in the city.”
“Ah. I have an idea of what to expect…at least from somebody's really slanted perspective.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Today when I went to go get my withdraw form during my break, the first person I went to go talk to and to sign my form was Mrs. Carroll, my counselor. Apparently, she taught in Spokane for a few years, so she thinks that she's like this all knowing expert about the school system there, including which schools are good, and what ones to avoid. For the bulk of our conversation, she went on this huge diatribe of how not only Hillyard High is so horrible because of the drugs, the bad kids, the gangs and the fights, but of how the neighborhood that we're moving into is, in so many words, 'ghetto.'”
“Wow; she actually told you this, point blank?”
“Yes. Almost verbatim, nonetheless. So, with her review, I am expecting that it's not going to be anything like going to Columbia. However, even though there might be a lot more stoners and gangsters, I have this sneaking suspicion that I'm really gonna like Hillyard.”
“I'm kinda thinking the same thing, man! I mean, it sounds like there are gonna be a lot fewer preppies that go to Hillyard, which means quite possibly, that money and looks will not be a deciding factor in someone's status; people may actually be accepted for the people they are. It would be a culture shock, but for the better!”
“That's true. But just curious; are you riding with me up to Spokane, or are you gonna ride in the van with Mom and Dad.”
“I was hoping to ride with you; as long as you aren't gonna have a lot of crap in the cab.”
“I won't. So, should I take that as a yes, you're riding in the truck with me.”
“Yeah; of course.”
The conversation carried on, as both brothers proceeded to pack up the little things that they wanted to carry themselves, rather than leave for the moving men to handle. With both being musicians, a lot of space in their bedroom had been taken up by various musical instruments and amplifiers. And now, the bulk of what would be packed in the back of the truck would be these such things. Being especially careful, Cade unplugged his bass amp, wrapped up his cables and secured his prized Honey Sunburst Music Man Sting Ray and silver Ibanez Sound Gear in their proper cases. The same was done for his well used Yamaha saxophone and its own accessories, and every piece of his matching cherry red Tama and Zildjian drum kit, of which he carefully disassembled. Meanwhile, Quentin rounded up all of the pieces of his acoustic and electric guitars and trumpet.
Both brothers had picked up music on their own accord at a young age, and grew very passionate about it soon thereafter. Cade began playing on a rented upright bass in his elementary school orchestra, but then opted to switch over to bass guitar as he became more skilled. This love increased when he found a used Ibanez four string under the Christmas tree when he was ten. Later on, a member of their extended family passed away; besides some money for all, Cade inherited their drum kit, and Quentin his Epiphone acoustic guitar. Both taught themselves how to play with the use of books from the library and in playing favorite songs by ear. Cade, of course, now had become fluent in two instruments, while Quentin had begun to compose his own songs for the acoustic guitar. A year or so later, he began integrating power chords and distortion into his songs when his parents gave him his now cherished teal Epiphone Les Paul for his eleventh birthday.
As both “did their time,” as per the boys' personal descriptions, at Lincoln Middle School, there grew the desire to learn how to play brass instruments, in order to play in the only band their school funded; the all school brass and wind ensemble. Both with a deep affection for jazz, both Quentin and Cade sought to play instruments that were prominent in many variations of jazz. Over one summer, each, both brothers selected their instrument, took lessons, and practiced relentlessly in order to get good by the start of the school year. Quentin, inspired by one of his true musical role models, Miles Davis, opted to pick up the trumpet. Then Cade, who always had studied the compositions of the likes of Sonny Rollins, and loved albums such as Saxophone Colossus, made the decision to pick up the saxophone.
Even in hopes and dreams for the future, both Cade and Quentin knew that it would all revolve around music. As he mentioned to Mrs. Carroll, Cade was working to become a high school music teacher somewhere down the road. Quentin, on the other hand, planned to major in business and minor in music as an undergrad, then achieve an MBA thereafter. His goal was to someday open up his own record store.
“Cade! Quentin! Wash up and come out here; dinner's here!” both overheard their mother's familiar voice coming from the dining room through the door their soon to be former bedroom, as they had just barely taken the last posters down from the walls. The siblings, for the last few years, slept in bunk beds, which preserved space for their instruments, amongst other things. Moving into the new house, which only had two proper bedrooms upstairs, had a carpeted one thousand square-foot basement, complete with climate controls and cable hookups. Naturally, this was the much bigger space that Cade and Quentin would be sharing yet again. However, this time, both were ecstatic when they learned that with all of the extra space to share, they would be getting their own separate full size beds out of the deal. “Alright boys, if you're so busy getting ready to move, your dad and I can eat your share of the pizza. And boy, it sure is good tonight!” With that, Cade and Quentin knew that this was a good time to stop, not because they thought their mom was serious, but because they had both worked up quite an appetite for the two large pepperoni pizzas and breadsticks that had just been delivered a few minutes prior.
*****
“Dear Journal:
I write to you at approximately three thirty in the morning. Seriously, neither Quentin nor I can sleep, even though both of us should; especially me. After all, in a matter of about four or five hours from now, Quentin and I will be packing our instruments and other things into both the family van and in the back of my truck and be making the journey up to Spokane. Quentin's at his computer, chatting with a couple of online friends and getting wired on a glass of Mountain Dew. And I am up here, writing to you, during probably the final night that I will be sleeping in this bunk bed. Turns out that after so many years, with all the new room we're going to have in the basement, Quentin and I will have our own beds…although we still will be sharing the space downstairs in our new house. It just feels so funny, because it is now officially all over for both of us within the ass backwards Tri Cities school system. It just felt so funny walking into our bedroom, only to find nearly everything in boxes, ready to be packed, except for two duffle bags containing our respective changes of clothes, our toiletries, a reading book, and a couple of movies to watch tomorrow night when we're staying in the hotel. All of our instruments are in their cases, and are going to be packed in the back of my truck, and covered with a tarp; not just for extra protection just in case it gets nasty as we're driving, but also because I am trying to do all that I can to avoid getting dirty looks or unwanted attention in wake of having said obscene statements gouged into the driver's side, of which I won't be able to fix for a little bit of time. Still, now that it happened, and now that the whole horrendous ordeal that was going to Columbia High is water under the bridge, I will just say that that's going to be one hell of a story to tell, should any of my new classmates ask me what happened when they see it in the student parking lot. All I can do now is laugh about it, not get pissed, and brush any bad thoughts off my shoulder. All in all, though, I not only think, but know that going to Hillyard is going to be a much better experience, even if I really don't end up making a lot of good friends; at least people are going to talk to me and probably be friends with me, and my teachers will treat me like a person. But in regards to the last day going to school in Richland, the day was nearly how I completely expected It to go; as was for Quentin, as per the conversation we all had at the dinner table earlier this evening. Quentin got a lot less fanfare than he actually expected, especially since, as he described it, generally anyone who is seen as acceptable in his classes were very fake, shallow, and insincere in every possible way. Hell, according to Quentin, the only people that actually acted halfway upset, or even said anything to him about the fact that it was his last day and that they would miss him, even though most of them were quite possibly full of shit, were five of his six teachers. All of them remembered that he was leaving, and gave him the form letter, 'we wish you the best of luck' bullshit, and sent him on his way as they signed off of his withdraw form and took his textbooks off of his hands. However, he had a particular Earth Science teacher of who had a very obvious preference of which students he respected. And certainly, for the reason that he did not partake in any of the school's sports programs or have a big full rack that look nice peeking out of a low cut shirt, Quentin was generally scum in his eyes. Therefore, he was indifferent to the idea of Quentin requesting his permission to withdraw from the school; hell, in the back of my mind, from what I've been told, I'm pretty sure that the bastard was happy to see Quentin leaving. None of his classmates actually said anything as he finished out his last day there; Quentin quietly turned everything in and made his way out virtually undetected on their radar. And then, come to think of what went down on my last day at 'good ole' Columbia High, I was seriously hoping for the kind of day that Quentin had, except with none of the fanfare from teachers; except, of course, for Mrs. Warden. It is pretty dead obvious to the naked eye that most all of the rest of the teachers that I was taking classes from loathed me so much that in some cases, it looked as if some were holding back tears of joy as they signed off my form and checked off the box saying I returned my textbook in acceptable condition. Nevertheless, ALL FOUR OF THEM gave me the “well, we hate to see you go, and it's been a pleasure to have you in our classes,” line. In every single one of these cases, it took everything I had not to either completely tell them off or puke right then and there. And then, if that wasn't bad enough, amidst several of my classes having small end of the quarter class parties, my 'darling' classmates made me want to get the day over with more and more by the second. It's not bad enough that for the last two and one quarter years (and of course in some cases the last five and a quarter, and even last eleven and a quarter, as I went to middle school and/or elementary school with some of them) that on a day to day basis I have withstood their filthy names, ridicule, spreading of rumors about me (including the one about me being gay and having a thing for a particular well loved popular male classmate), humiliation in some cases, and overall treated as if I am some disgusting piece of garbage that they just throw away. However, just to add more wood to the fire, these same exact people, who have managed to make my life a living hell over the last few years and managed to keep my blood pressure way above normal as well, actually acted…I shit you not…as if they were sad to see me go, and as if they had really gotten to know me and were going to miss me! Seriously, what the hell, man? In trying to actually act halfway interested, they were sickeningly sweet in asking soon to be very cliché questions such as “Where are you going?” “Why are you moving to Spokane, when you've lived here for so long?” and my personal favorite, which was, surprisingly, asked of me quite a few times, “Do you ever plan on coming back to visit your friends in Tri Cities?” Once again, it took everything I had not to completely lose it, and fall into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. However, while I wanted to be the vindictive shit and let out all of the horrible, vulgar thoughts floating around in my head at the moment, my conscience kicked in right at the last moment and told me that it wouldn't exactly be the best idea to stoop down to their level. After all, for all of my life, I have never had to insult, belittle, or humiliate others to feel better about myself; and damn it, I wasn't about to start now. I have so many hurtful memories from going to Columbia, and you probably can't imagine how much I was praying and kissing God's feet when my dad came home that night with the surprise news that he just happened to get the job in the city, of which we had all made the conclusion about that there was no way in hell that he would be getting it. All I do know is that, like I said, nothing can be as bad as spending your high school career at Columbia High School; even if the school was built in the heart of the ghetto, or if it just happens to house a lot of kids my age in gangs and girls who are currently pregnant with their second or third children. Even if, on a daily basis, I stood witness to people snorting lines of coke in the locker rooms before gym class, I am damn near positive that it would still be better than the Nazi camp-like shit hole that everyone says is so good. And hey, if they say this is such a great school, I sure as hell would go to what they call a “bad” school any day. All I can say is, bottom line, everyone in my family has needed a fresh start for a while; and not just the fact that the atmosphere and school system has not been good to either Quentin nor I. For the last few years, my dad has had a hell of a time holding down a job for very long; not because he does a piss poor job, but because every single one of them has seen fit to lay him off right before he would be planning to get tenure and/or climb the ladder within the company. Back in the day, my dad always has sort of had this problem, sort of like Quentin and I, of being able to make friends, and be social. On the other hand, it wasn't for the same default reasons as Quentin and I, but being that my dad's been laid off about five different construction companies around here. But maybe since I've never really spilled too much about the rest of my family, maybe I should fill some of the blind spots in for you. Anyways, ever since he was twenty one, shortly after he and my mom got married, my dad, originally thinking about going the traditional route and doing the slow moving college thing, opted to go the other route and learn the trade of construction and carpentry. After jumping through all of the hoops and graduating, my dad went to work in his trade, building houses, doing general contracting, and whatnot for firms, which built stuff in not only Tri Cities, but also in other places in the vicinity. The thing was with these companies, though, that the pay wasn't half what he was originally promised, and the fact that shortly down the road, the firms actually began to cut hours, so he would never bring home a steady amount that we all could plan on, or whatever. But when I tell the other part of the whole story, people immediately assume it was because my dad did a piss poor job, or that he was antisocial. My dad always did a very good job; hell, he even loves the work that he does within the construction field. However, while Quentin and I would at least attempt to be friends with people that went to our schools, only to be shot down, my dad never really tried to do this at all. It wasn't that people loathed my dad at his work, and it wasn't that he didn't work well with a lot of these people. It was only that my dad really had no desire to hobnob with the vast majority of his co-workers, because he knew that a lot of them were into some bad things, partied way too much, and even some had some lengthy criminal records. Therefore, while he didn't judge or keep his distance, my dad would work with them, but would generally keep to himself the vast majority of the time. While he saw nothing wrong with this, and despite the fact that he did get along with his co-workers when he had to, his bosses always gave him the same lame ass excuse; 'You're not a team player.' This, of course, was followed by being informed that the company had become low on work, and that his position had been eliminated. As a result, while he took the idea with a little bit of hostility at first when my mom brought it up, my dad began to come to terms with the fact that possibly some people could convey his refusal to really put himself out there and make friends with his co-workers as being anti social. So, now that he not only scored a kick ass position, working for a company that gets hired to build state and huge federally funded projects like schools, city halls, amongst other additional public and private projects, and that we will be starting anew in a whole new town and a whole new atmosphere, my dad made a vow that he, too, will be turning over a whole new leaf, becoming the personable, social butterfly that he's always wanted to be. And then, there's my mom, who will be starting out doing what she has been doing for a long time now; cashiering at a department store. However, when we get all things settled, and my dad starts making the really good money, she's either going to go down to working part time or quit all together, then go back to school. Contrary to popular belief, if was not my mom's choice, or lack of judgment in making her choices in life that brought her to this point; that is, being in her late forties and working the front end at a shitty department store. Actually, my mom finished, out of approximately five hundred people in her graduating class, number eight; in other words, pretty damn good. Based exclusively on her hard work, my mom scored a full ride scholarship to go to school to become a nurse. However, while she was ecstatic, she learned that the position involved a lot of heavy lifting and running around. And, since cerebral palsy limits somebody's ability to do these things, and it gets much worse as a person with it gets older, my mom, unfortunately, had to give it up. My mom has been working since the age of seventeen; and has never even backed down ever since. Hell, in the roughest time of their marriage, before my dad got his first job working in construction and was flipping hamburgers to make ends meet, my mom, while pregnant and taking care of Quentin and I before we were old enough to go to school, was selling Avon cosmetics and things out of the house. My mom sure as hell doesn't want to quit work; she just wants to do something where she can actually sit down, because standing like she does for long periods at a time really does take a toll on her body. She doesn't know exactly what she wants to do, but she does know that very soon after my dad begins his job, and it's secure, she will be eager to tell her boss the good news. So yes, a new leaf turned over for all of us; I just hope nobody's will turn brown anywhere down the road anytime soon. BUT HEY…it's now almost five in the morning, and I really must at least rest and take it easy before I get behind the wheel later on. All I can say is, thank God for caffeine! The next time I write, it will be either tonight in the hotel, or maybe in a couple of nights when we get into the new house. Until then, take care!”
When Cade finally finished penning everything that was on his mind, he peered over to the clock on the nightstand to see that it read 5:01 am. It always was a thing that never failed to relax him, especially when it was too early or late to play an instrument. Also, whenever he couldn't sleep, Cade always had, ever since he got his first fancy hardcover journal for his eleventh birthday, used it as an effective most of the time sleep aid. This time, however, effectiveness was not the case. Given the circumstances; in being so excited, and eager to wake up, pack into the vehicles and start driving, neither one of the boys could fall asleep. Quentin poked around on some online forums, reading, replying, and leaving messages for people that had incited flame wars, expressing hostile thoughts about one of Quentin's favorite rappers. Both brothers then quietly carried on a conversation about this.
It always had annoyed both brothers, and even their parents, when other people would express ideas such as it being somewhat weird that both Quentin and Cade shared not only very similar interests, but also tastes. After all, both listened to every music under the sun, studied music extensively, and immersed themselves into different cultures surrounding respective genres. And as mentioned before, both also wanted to make music their lives; Cade, going to school to become a music teacher, while Quentin already planned to go to school, with the end result being him opening up his own record store. Both shared these tastes, religious beliefs, and could easily hold down long, stimulating conversations, along side the typical brother to brother subject matter. On the other hand, while both had a lot of similar tastes, Quentin had a little more hip hop and rhythm and blues in his collection, and Cade had a little more of a fancy to alternative and independent rock music of all shades. This also could be evident in taking a look in their bedroom closet and walls. The posters on the walls touted scenes from movies about hip hop culture, color photos of various rappers, groups from different sides of the spectrum under the alternative rock umbrella, and those advertising movies like The Wall and Empire Records. Then to the closet, Quentin's side housed a lot of button downs and jeans, but then also a couple of baseball caps, and several tops and bottoms from brands like Fubu, Enyce, Rocawear, and South Pole. Cade's side also had jeans and button downs, but blended in were flannels, rock band shirts, and his favorite corduroy jacket (that he was told he could not wear to Columbia because it posed a safety threat to others), which had been adorned with not only patches of his favorite groups, but also with metal spikes and studs, as kids had begun doing during the early days of punk.
“Quentin! Cade! Are you guys up?” followed a loud knocking on the opposite side of the door, right as the clock hit 7:36. Quentin came to the door. “Hey, hun! Are you guys ready to start packing it up? We gotta hurry, 'cuz we're leaving at about 9:30. Our appointment with the title company is at two thirty in Spokane, so we really gotta get a move on. Both brothers predicted the morning would be hellish. Without wasting any time, both of them started bringing instruments out of the room, and gently setting them in the bed of Cade's truck. Soon enough, all of the things that everyone intended to pack and bring to Spokane themselves was packed either in the bed of the Ranger and under a tarp, or in the back of the minivan. Cade's watch then hit 9:02.
“Hey, Mom; do you think I'd have the time to make some coffee and get it in my system before the moving men get here and we take off?”
“Cade, honey; the coffee pot is packed; we can stop somewhere in town before we get on the freeway and leave this town for good. And hey, it's not my fault that you two stayed up all night, and you now feel dead inside!”
“Ma; we couldn't sleep. Both of us were so excited. That happens when I'm eager to do something.
“I know, I know. But I still don't get it; your dad and I slept just fine, and we're just as excited as you guys are!”
“Alright; you made your point!”
Finally, at 9:18 am, a smaller box truck, but not the 18-wheeler that would be carrying the contents of their former home to the new home in Spokane, parked on the side of the road. Out of the cab poured three younger, bulky men in matching white van line uniforms and baseball caps. Everyone shook hands and made acquaintances, but knew full well that everyone that day had work they had to do. As the three men began bringing in brown boxes and packing tape, all members of the Wolenski family filed out of what was their home for nearly all of their sons' lives. A lot of memories clung themselves onto the walls of that house. In a way, while nobody in the family was going to miss the Tri Cities in any respect, they would miss this house. After all, it was, amongst other things, the first place that Paul and Kimberly purchased together as a married couple. It was the place where both boys grew up not only as people, but also learned everything they knew in playing and getting as good as they were at that point on all of the instruments they played. It was where Todd lived all of his life thus far; except for the first five weeks when he was too small and immature to be weaned away from his mother. Most of all, it is the place where the entire family went on their roller coaster ride of ups, downs, triumphs, tribulations, extreme highs, and rock bottom lows. Still, no matter what, this had been home for nearly seventeen years (Cade would be turning seventeen ten days thereafter), and it would be sorely missed. Then again, in moving to the big city, all of them knew that there was a lot more to look forward to than just making a much bigger and more spacious house into a home.
“Paul, just make sure that Todd's on a leash and he's got his collar on. And don't forget a blanket so he can be comfortable!”
“Don't worry, Kimberly; I got a blanket, and I've got him right here.
A few things were packed into the trunk section of the van. The backseat, however, would serve as a temporary palace fit for a king; or at least in this case, a Beagle. Everyone bid their final farewell to the place that each member had sufficiently out grown over time, in more ways than one. Cade then helped his mother into the passenger side of the van, while Quentin brought a basket of toys and water dish and set them in back for Todd.
“By the way, boys,” Kimberly began, in addressing both of her sons.
“What is it, ma?” Quentin questioned.
“Just wanted to let you know that you are not to panic when we get to the new house. I found a buyer for you guys' bunk beds. They gave me the money, and, while the moving men are doing their thing, they're coming to pick it up. The first thing we're doing when we get there and get to the house is find you two beds.”
“Excellent! Are we both getting full sizes?”
“Of course; you two are nearly grown men; there's no way in hell that I'd get you little twin ones.”
“Sweet!”
Everything was finally packed, and the family was ready to roll. While Paul had made the drive several times, Cade, on the other hand, had never driven such a long distance in the year that he had his driver's license. Paul, trying to alleviate some of this anxiety, simply instructed his son to follow them in the van, but just be careful driving up the highways, which had speed limits of seventy miles per hour the vast majority of the time. With that, everyone was in their vehicles, ignition was on, and they were rolling, for the last time, out of the Beaten Path Trailer Park. Moment by moment, the van and truck inched closer to the freeway entrance, ready to blast off into a whole new land…that is, after some well-needed caffeine.
Tags: medical marijuana
