Now getting dark, I started walking faster and faster to Westlake ~ a neighborhood north of our home in St. Francis Heights, hoping to catch the last bus home. Missing it by ten minutes, I pulled another 5 miler.
Finally arriving home ~ still starved, eyes blood red and swollen by the weed, Lita asked me why I was so late and why my peepers were inflamed.
Lying that I was doing extra credit homework after school, she shook her head in total disbelief and trudged back to the stove ~ thank God.
Earning a generous weekly allowance of $10.00 in 1966 ($80.00 today) for mowing our lawn, sweeping & mopping the garage, and cleaning the backyard, as well as still apprenticing with Lito on Saturdays, weed was relatively cheap.
A “lid” (plastic baggie) of mid-grade quality was $20.00 and one of primo was $30.00.
Even though a lid should have been a full ounce or 28 grams, most every dealer “pinched” and cheated on some grams.
Still feeling the effects of my very 1st high, I thought that that dinner was the best ever and that playing afterwards with my Jack-In-The-Box was greatly enhanced by the weed.
This then was the birth of my 45 year entropic mental construct like the Everly Brother’s 1960’s Coca-Cola jingle, “Things Go Better With Coke.”
Well with me, it was everything goes better with weed: sex; food; movies; rock concerts; driving; working ~ you name it, I had to do it stoned to the bone.
Wanting that same high again, I was already hooked by that 1st puff.
Asking Tyke the next day if I could buy 10 grams, he said that he only had just a small stash at home and gave me a ½ smoked pin-head (skinny joint) to hold me over until he scored again.
Tyke’s marijuana variety was Guerrero Gold from Mexico; eventually backed-up in America by Panama Red, Maui Waui, Acapulco Gold, Jamaican Red, Colombian Gold and thanks to our Vietnam Veterans ~ holy Thai Stick.
Pray to The Holy Spirit constantly and simply from your heart, just as earnestly as He was your very best friend.
+ through Divine Intimacy ~ He IS!