My Pops

I have enjoyed smoking weed with my Dad from time to time. He was a long time, low key recreational smoker for as long as I can remember. He tried to keep that a secret from his kids, but I found his secret stash of flower hidden in his van way back when I was a teenager. (And yeah, I pinched some off for myself! He wasn’t going to ask me about it.)

Throughout the years, my Dad’s house parties always featured a few joints, a lighter and an ashtray hidden away in one of the upstairs baths. When you got the signal from him, you knew he had you covered and it was ok to sneak off and enjoy a little of his weed. The Karaoke machine would came out. Engelbert Humperdink was sung. Smiles and laughter were abundant at Dad’s gatherings, whether on Christmas Eve with the fam, or in the funky little tiki hut out on his patio. The man knew how to enjoy living and no doubt, toking on a little weed was part of that formula.

My father passed away from brain cancer, at 84 on December 23rd. Prior to his diagnosis, he was fit as a fiddle and left us far too soon. Before he passed, I found his smoking paraphernalia and removed it from the house. I felt I needed to cover for him, should hospice care find it, as well as for his own safety. While he was still up and around, he had eaten a Rice Krispie Treat I had given to him last Christmas. He must have stashed it away and found it. He supposedly got really wasted that day! And as much as I bet he enjoyed it, it was no longer safe for him to imbibe. At least my Dad’s last cannabis high while on this planet, was from my homegrown, homemade product.

Now that he’s up there partying with the ancestors in the Afterlife, these are the only momentos I have of his. It seems fitting though. I had given him the stash box with the inlaid wood as a souvenir from my trip to Amsterdam. There were two hand rolled joints inside. Each one had been lit. A few tokes had been taken. A smile. A song. I hope he was happy every time he smoked as we should all be.

See ya on the other side, Pops. You’ll let me know where you hid the joints when I get there. xo