Cannabis-ness

 

The other night, I was flipping through the channels…oh, all right, I was watching the Bravo Network, I confess.   What with The Real Housewives of Blah-Blah, Salon Makeover with Tabatha Coffey and Millionaire Matchmaker, I have survived the most horrendous winter in recent memory and still managed to keep my sanity intact.

Shows like these are the perfect antidote to what’s REALLY going on the world, i.e., Egypt, man’s inhumanity to man and beast, natural disasters, and Glenn Beck.

One night I cam across a show that I hadn’t seen before and that I will most likely not watch again due to its predictability.  It’s called Million Dollar Listing.  Basically, it’s three or four upscale Realtors trying to list and sell multimillion dollar homes in California’s toniest neighborhoods.  Sellers don’t want to come down in price, buyers don’t want to come up—you get the picture.  Just like real life but with a lot more dough involved.

This show is not the focus of this blog entry, however.  No, my attention was drawn to a man, about mid-30s, who was looking to purchase a home in the Hollywood Hills.  A big, expensive home.  Was this man in the entertainment business? An actor, a writer, a producer? No.  Was he a plastic surgeon? A high-priced attorney? No.  What was this man’s occupation you ask?

He sells pot—legally.  That’s right.  Mr. Hollywood Hills owns a medical marijuana dispensary located in a neighborhood suburb of Los Angeles.  And he was more than happy to give the Realtor a tour of his shop.

The Realtor was dumbfounded.  Never before had he seen pot in such quantities, each type individually wrapped in plastic and identified as to type and which ailments it is designed to alleviate.  He joked that the smell alone was getting him high.

Then there were the fancy pipes and bongs, the cookies and brownies, and a menu of sorts, featuring, unsurprisingly, astronomical prices for other foodstuffs containing weed.

I support the use of medical marijuana.  It has been shown to reduce or relieve the symptoms of some illnesses, particularly cancer.  Many cancer patients who have lost their appetite for food due the side effects of chemotherapy swear by it, as do those in chronic pain.

Medical marijuana should be treated like any other controlled substance, naturally.  You need a doctor’s scrip to partake and it’s kept under lock and as are other controlled substances, for example,  Oxycontin, otherwise known as “hillbilly heroin.”

But really, what other drug is sold under such conditions, in a cozy lounge setting, baked into cookies and brownies, with colorful pipes and bongs lining the shelves?  Do they have similar lounges for Oxycontin, Adderall, Percocet or Xanax?  Is there a lounge for Ambien, compete with a comfy bed and a nurse to pour you some warm milk and read you a bedtime story?

I sort of understand the reasoning behind the lounges and why they don’t allow you take it home and smoke it there (they do make exceptions for people in hospice).  They don’t want you sharing it with your friends or worse, selling it to make a profit.  I know that it would be just as easy to do this with pills but for some reason, it’s easier to share a drug that you smoke or bake into food.

Still, it just struck me funny that the managers of such dispensaries go out of their way to make the place as friendly and cozy as possible, like your best friend’s basement in high school.  It made me wonder what one needs to do to become a licensed dispenser of medical marijuana. (No, I am not considering it, thanks for asking).

 I did a little research: www.mahalo.com/how-to-sell-marijuana-legally

State Laws Vary

Currently, there are 14 states that have legalized the medicinal use of marijuana for patients with terminal and/or painful illnesses. Each state has its own regimen for the distribution of marijuana, and the legalization is only recognized on the state level.  It is still considered a Federal crime to sell or buy marijuana in the United States, despite individual state policies and laws regarding

The states that currently have designed a system for patients to obtain medical marijuana are Alaska, California, Colorado, Hawaii, Maine, Michigan, Montana, Nevada, New Jersey, New Mexico, Oregon, Rhode Island, Vermont, and Washington.

Licensing Process

Marijuana dispensaries and distributors in participating states must apply for and undergo a licensing process with their respective state. Currently, 9 of the 14 states with an established medical marijuana policy have removed criminal implications at the state level from the sale and use of marijuana, imposed conditions (namely specific medical conditions confirmed by a physicians) around the eligibility for medical marijuana use, and created state programs for the purpose of registration and licensee.

The remaining states have decriminalized medical marijuana use and distribution and are either in the process of developing a medical marijuana registration program, or opting to forgo requiring registration. Guidelines, fees and requirements vary from state to state and are typically exhibited on official state websites.

 While most states that require a license don’t recognize licenses from other states, some will honor a registration from another state provided that requirements are met for obtaining a license or the approved medical conditions such as cancer, glaucoma, HIV/AIDS, Hepatitis C, cachexia or wasting syndrome, severe or debilitating chronic pain, severe nausea, seizures, epilepsy, muscle spasms, Crohn’s disease and Alzheimer’s Disease.  

Collective Dispensaries

Dispensaries are small clinics that are designed to aid patients who suffer from painful and/or terminal illnesses by providing access to medical grade marijuana as well as food and paraphernalia. In these clinics, patients receive alternative treatment and relief through the supervised use of marijuana. In certain states, dispensaries must be not-for-profit outfits, and require patients or customers to furnish a state identification card to gain access. In order to qualify for a registration or a license, an individual must provide proof of residency in the state in which (s)he wishes to grow, sell or buy marijuana.

www.cdphe.state.co.us/hs/medicalmarijuana/fullpacket.pdf

If you are interested in working with terminally ill patients, as well as patients with chronic pain as a marijuana grower or dispenser, your best bet would be working in a collective dispensary clinic. Right now, just California, Colorado, Hawaii, Vermont and Maine distribute marijuana through collective dispensaries.

Dispensaries typically obtain medical marijuana from local growers who are also impacted by state medical marijuana laws with respect to quantities and licensing. While the sale of marijuana is not permitted outside of the dispensary, employees of a dispensary become an integral part of the medical marijuana process. Becoming politically or socially active in the medical marijuana community may result in a network of equally minded individuals and potential job offers.

www.cannabiscareerinstitute.com/cannabis-school/how-to-market-yourself

The Man I Never Knew

A couple of weeks ago, I attended a memorial service for a man I knew casually when I lived in Montclair.  His death was sudden, shocking (he hadn’t been ill), and especially sad because he died during a joyful occasion,  his son’s wedding. 

In fact, he was out on the floor dancing when he dropped dead of a heart attack, which many people who knew him well said was a metaphor for his life, a life he always lived to the fullest.

As I mentioned, I knew him casually.  I would run into him mostly at the various bars around town.  He was always extremely friendly towards me, always offered to buy me a drink, and always made me laugh about something or other.  I never saw him in a bad mood, never knew him not to be generous, with me or with other people.  But for all the years I knew him, I knew very little about him.  I knew he was married, had grown kids, practiced law, was born in Mexico, but that was about it.  I imagined he didn’t know much about my life, either.  It was nobody’s “fault,”  it’s just the way that this particular relationship evolved.

On occasion, we did get into heated arguments about religion for some strange reason.  Strange, because I don’t practice religion and rarely talk about it with others.  I also never considered him a particularly religious man.  I think he just liked to push my buttons.

At the memorial service, various family members and close friends spoke at the church podium to remember his life.  The most moving speech, in my opinion, was one given by his best friend and old Army buddy.  He spoke of the time they met in the Army as young men, the bigotry they encountered together (this man was part Mexican and the Army buddy is Jewish), and how their friendship developed over time into one where they felt more like blood brothers than mere friends.

I learned that the man who died spoke several languages, traveled all over the world, loved the arts and all kinds of music, acted as a mentor to so many people, pushed the envelope in a lot of situations but usually for a “good cause,” and was extremely proud of how his kids turned out. And, I learned that one of his favorite pieces of music was Ave Maria, which they played at the end of the service. 

I felt sad.  Sad, of course, because he died too young in my opinion, but sad because I didn’t get to know him as others did.  I would have loved to discuss art and literature with him, rather than who was doing what or who in Montclair.  Rather than argue about religion (arguments, as I have learned in my short life, are never won or lost), I would have liked to have learned about all the exotic locales he visited.  I felt cheated that he never shared this side of himself with me.

If I’ve gained anything from this experience, it’s to not pigeonhole people into compartments. “Oh, I see that So-and-So is here.  Guess I am going to be discussing (fill in the blank) Liberal/Conservative/Libertarian politics tonight.”  No, I want to shake things up a bit, go outside the comfort zone of what we always talk about when we meet.  People are complex beings, made up of many different facets.  If you’re lucky, they will surprise you, as you will them. 

I would prefer learning these wonderful, interesting things about people before they are gone.

The candy with the “crack” is back!

No, it’s not what you think!   I’m talking about  a childhood favorite of mine and scores of other kids who grew up in the 50s and 60s: Bonomo Turkish Taffy!

Not only was it delectable, with its vanilla, chocolate, strawberry and banana (my fave) flavors that would melt in your mouth after being chewed for what seemed like an eternity– it was fun.  You would stick it in the freezer for a couple of hours and take it out and SMASH it with a rock or hammer and voila, you had a dozen or so pieces of taffy that would last for hours.  The only ones not too thrilled with this delightful confection were dentists.

A few years ago, I did a search online for Bonomo Turkish Taffy and discovered that it was no more, that they stopped making it around the early 1970s.  Bummer.  Another vestige if my childhood gone forever.

Then my husband and I were in the famous Holsten’s in Bloomfield and he was excited to  find some Bonomo on top of the candy display case.  I worried that they might have been left over from the 60s but I was wrong, thanks to a man named Ken Wiesen.

Through some legal wrangling and clever marketing acumen, Wiesen, a 53-year-old attorney and his business partner Jerry Sweeney, have resurrected the Boomer favorite and now it can be found in about 10,000 stores in bar form and bite-sized pieces.

Some interesting factoids about Bonomo Turkish Taffy:

* It’s nearly 100 years old.

*  It was invented by accident when a man named Herman Herer accidentally put too many egg whites in the marshmallow batter he was making for a Newark, NJ, candy company called M. Schwarz and Son.  Not wanting to be wasteful, he cooked and baked it as is and ended up a with a new confection.

*  Herer eventually sold his confection to the Bonomo Candy Company in 1936, owned by Victor Bonomo who had emigrated to the U.S. from Turkey in 1897.

*  The production of the candy was temporarily suspended during World War II due to sugar rationing.

*  Victor Bonomo’s grandson, Tico, created his own children’s television show in 1949 for the express purpose of marketing Bonomo Turkish Taffy.  It featured clowns, puppets and a rowdy audience of fez-wearing kids and was one of the earliest infomercials.

*  Turkish Taffy rose in popularity and by the late 60s, it was selling more than 110 million bars a year.  Eventually, it ended up in the hands of the Tootsie Roll folks who fiddled with the recipe, making it into a softer texture, which went over like a lead balloon with the public.  By 1973, it was history–until now.

Thank you Ken Wiesen and Jerry Sweeney!

Watch out for Goofus

 

OK, so the Jets will not be going to the Superbowl. Not that I am the biggest football fan in the world but it would have been nice to see a New York team play in the Superbowl. We need a lift here in the Northeast, what with the winter from Hell, with it’s sub-zero temps and the snow that just will not go away.

So we have Pittsburgh (couldn’t care less) and Green Bay, in which I have a mild interest that has nothing to do with football.

You see, about 20 or so years ago, a friend of mine (Hi Kathy!) turned me on to a local Michigan band called Da Yoopers. Their name refers to Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, affectionally known as the U.P. So if you’re from the U.P., you are known as a Yooper, get it?

Personally, I think they are greatest thing since pasteurized milk. My husband can’t stand them but he also doesn’t like Family Guy. You can see who the cultured one in the family is.

Da Yoopers’s songs can best be described as songs about drinking beer, deer hunting, beer drinking, fishing, beer drinking, and rusty old Chevys.  You might think that songs about drinking beer get tiresome after awhile. You are greatly mistaken as there are songs about where to find beer, songs about being out of beer while being snowed in at hunting camp, songs about driving all over the state of Michigan after closing time in pursuit of beer, and, of course, free beer:

Free beer, free beer, that’s my favorite brand,

If I didn’t have to buy it, it’s the best beer in the land.

Warm, cold, funky, it don’t matter to me,

The greatest beer in this whole world is the one you buy for me!

Anyway, there’s a guy who sometimes performs with Da Yoopers named Goofus Maki. Goofus plays a homemade instrument called a polka-cello, which is a combination drum, tambourine, bicycle horn, among other things.  In addition to jamming with Da Yoopers, Goofus can be found at Negaunee High School sporting events, local Fourth of July celebrations and Green Bay Packers games.  He is to Michigan sporting events what the late Freddie the Fan was to the Yankees and Fordham U. baskteball games.

So when you’re watching the Packers trounce Pittsburgh on Superbowl Sunday, look in the stands for Goofus.  I know that’s what I’ll be doing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jnwi8MpvAVI&NR=1

Greetings!

Welcome to my blog! I hope you like it here.

I agonized over what direction this blog will take, what to call it, my target audience, and then one of my brilliant Facebook friends suggested I just write and see what direction it takes by itself. Since I am an expert at procrastinating, I figured I could spend the next 10 years trying to come up with a theme and meanwhile, not a word would get typed.

No, this time, I am serious about exercising my writing muscles. I am going to make every effort to blog on a regular basis and will try to make every post somewhat interesting.

As for my title, I have yet another Facebook friend to thank for that.  He challenged his Facebook friends to explain the meaning behind the phrase, “See you in Madrid.”  Now I have heard this phrase before, in old war movies and I believe it to be an aviation expression.  It refers to the pilot losing contact with a signal on the ground and being that he is not sure when he will again obtain a signal, he says, “See you in Madrid!”

That is kind of like the theme of this blog.  I am not sure where it will take me so to you I say, “See you in Madrid!”

Oh, and Bob B., you owe me a drink!