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Let me take you back to the days of yore, to a time when some of the things I did were done under the cover of darkness and a bit of subterfuge was in order.

Things sure have changed over the years. I remember way back in the early 70’s and smoking pot was definitely something you wanted to keep hidden from your parents. After all, if you were to believe them, the next thing on the agenda was LSD and after that you’d become a full blown heroin addict. It wouldn’t be long before you’d be seen begging for change on the streets or, worse yet, stealing grandma’s jewelry and hocking it just to get your next fix. After that, it was life as a career criminal with stints in and out of jail and rehab.

We went to great lengths to keep our actions hidden from our parents. We’d smoke dope at our local park during the warmer month’s listening to a primitive ghetto blaster or tossing around a Frisbee. When the weather got colder we’d cram our asses into one of my friend's beat up rusted out orange Ford Maverick and just cruise around the neighborhood listening to FM radio thinking we were cooler than shit. I think gas was about fifty cents a gallon and we’d chip in a couple of bucks apiece to fill her up and then use the rest to cop a nickel or dime bag and off we’d go. If one our buddies was short on cash it was usually never a problem. Fuck, these were my lifelong friends and we knew that they’d be good for it and even if they weren’t, we knew where they lived.

After a couple of hours it was time to go home and I’d sneak in the door hoping my parents had already passed out in front of the tube. From there I’d raid the freezer and help myself to a heaping mound of Breyers ice cream and retire to my room. As not to disturb the peace, I’d flip on my headphones and let the music carry me to faraway places.

I remember one time when I got a bit clumsy and my mother found some rolling papers stashed away in the back pocket of my jeans. Maybe it was a sign of her ignorance or maybe it was just because she didn’t want to know but when she asked me what they were I was able to convince her that they were flash paper and that me and my friends were trying to put together a magic act. Hey, at least I was trying to be creative!

I quit smoking dope sometime in the early 80’s, the paranoia just got to be too much so in my twisted logic I figured it was time to move on to cocaine. What a dick!

Anyway, over the ensuing years I was able to kick that stuff and only played around with pot a couple of times. I don’t know what they put in that shit these days or how they reengineered it but it seemed much more potent than the rag weed we were used to do. Where back in my heyday it would take a couple of joints to get me high, now it only took a hit or two and the sense of paranoia I experienced was also intensified. I think I took my last hit about seven to ten years ago and that was probably because I was drunk already and did it on a dare.

Christmas Eve , 2012

After doing some last minute shopping and stopping off at my local watering hole to have a friend of mine's wife wrap the presents I got for borgette it was time to go home and start getting ready for her arrival. I threw a ham in the oven along with an apple pie and sure enough around 8:30 her boyfriend dropped her off at casa borgo and we sat down to dinner and afterwards opened presents. After that we sat around the kitchen table and just began bullshitting the night away.

What started out as something straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting would soon turn into something Salvador Dali would be proud of. Allow me to explain.

borgette:”Hey dad, when you were my age, did you used to smoke pot?”

borgo:”Uhm, yeah honey, well, it was the 70’s and like, everybody was doing that shit back then.”

borgette:”Would you be mad if I did it?”

borgo:”Oh, I don’t know sweetie. I guess everybody or just about everybody tries it at least once."

And then a smile crossed her face and she dug in her backpack. She pulled out a small bag of weed along with a one-hitter that she’d lovingly given the name "The Magician's Nephew" after a book in the Narnia series by C.S. Lewis.

borgette:”Do you want to try some?”

borgo:”Aw Jeez honey, it’s been years since I did that shit, I dunno”.

To make a long story short, your resident idiot succumbed to peer pressure from his eighteen year old daughter and partook of the evil weed.

I think I managed to take two hits before I started to feel anything. Oh boy, this was not cool, not cool at all. The paranoia kicked in mighty hard and I had to go lay down on the couch and close my eyes. To top it off, my kid thought it was pretty funny watching her dad get stoned out of his gourd and trying to wolf down what was left of the baked ham and apple pie. It wasn’t long before I passed out and she headed upstairs to bed.

The next morning we kinda laughed about it but I made her make some promises about her use of pot. Among them were, never while driving, never at school and never in a public place. Last but not least and probably most importantly:

Never again with Dad.

Christmas will never be the same.

A belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to each and every one of you.

(I struggled a bit before writing this little tale but after speaking to borgette last night she said she had no problem with it. It seems like it's been such a short time ago that I was making those little marks on the wall and telling her to go feel the rain and now it'll be off to college in less than a year. Where does the time go?)

Note:

This show originally aired on January 3, 2013 when it was almost a year before she was due to go to college and still in high school. Although greeted by critical acclaim by the viewing public, the censors decided that it was not appropriate material and it was taken down the next day. Since much time has passed between now and then and she's leaving in a week or two for the University of Cincinnati, the author has had a change of heart and reposted it.

Let the chips fall where they may.

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