The Things That Brought Me Here: Reefer Saneness

I am so thankful for this long, strange and liberating trip -- despite the cost.

Good early morning, all y'all. I love waking up every dawn minus two hours here on top of the world in a state that is ranked first for election integrity and one that has implemented the best cannabis-related laws in this country. When people have asked me why I made the move from my Tennessee deep holler home for more than a half century to this New Mexico high slopes one, I mention three reasons: Jicarita Peak, acequia culture and reefer saneness.

In this state, every household is allowed to grow twelve cannabis plants without having to obtain a permit or pay any fees. We are allowed to obtain cannabis production licenses that allow us to grow for the commercial market as few as 200 plants up to 2,500 plants. We are allowed to obtain manufacturer's licenses that not only allows us to produce cannabis-infused products but also allows us to market directly to consumers. AND we are allowed to give our cannabis away for free without any fear of drug worrier weasels harshing our buzz or taking away our freedoms. Muy, muy bueno.

As those of you who have followed me since I made the move (and before), reefer madness has had a major impact on the trajectory of my life, destroying my quite productive and meaningful career as a public health epidemiologist, restricting my freedom, putting my Tennessee farm at risk and (finally) awakening in me the desire to live the remainder of my life in a better place. Believe me, there is no better place than this Enchanted Land.

Two years ago, I obtained my cannabis micro-producer license allowing me to grow 200 plants for the dispensary market. I invested heavily in building a latilla-fenced enclosure as my grow space, in improving the soil to a level that spared no expense and in purchasing the seedlings of twenty cannabis cultivars (which also weren't cheap). I really enjoyed growing those plants out in the open, waving nonchalantly at the occasional helicopter, watering the plants from my acequias and well, tending them lovingly and when they were harvested having them trimmed by four quite experienced women who joined me every day in the warmth of my great room to prepare my buds for market. To cap it all off, when I took samples of my bud to be tested for potency and cleanliness, I was quite pleased to have the lab techs tell me that my flowers were among the nicest they had ever tested, looking like they had been grown indoors instead of under our gran cielo (big sky).

And then, and then, the amoral avarice of unbridled capitalism reared its putrid head. The first dispensary I took my flowers to offered me $700/pound for the three most potent strains, $600/pound for the next two and NOTHING for the rest. That dispensary owner then had the gall and arrogance to admit that he intended to sell my buds for $4,500/pound to his retail customers. My response? "The hell you say." I wrote an op-ed piece about that encounter that was published in both the Taos and Santa Fe papers. Sadly, however, those would be the best prices I would be offered. Last week, in a very flooded market, I was offered $300/pound by as yet another arrogant dispensary manager, a local dispensary who my neighbors tell me specializes in sub-par schwag instead of kind high quality sinsemilla.

As you can imagine, this has been an eye-opening and quite frustrating experience, one that has been so disappointing that I did not grow another crop this year. I did however re-up my $1,000 license so that I could sell that first crop. However, that license expires in two weeks and so I am faced with the prospect of possessing about twenty five pounds of high quality cannabis with no legal recourse to sell it when my license expires. I have been fretting over what to do and went to bed last night thinking my options were almost nonexistent.

But in the early morning, I awoke with the realization that "almost" does not mean "none". I went online to check the New Mexico cannabis regs again and confirmed that I can GIVE AWAY up to two ounces of cannabis per adult per day without risk or penalty. And so that is precisely what I intend to do. I sent out an email to my four trimmers to ask for their help in bagging up my buds into two ounce packages. When that's done, I will get their help harvesting the last of my cabbages, turnips, potatoes and rutabagas and then I will show up at several local food banks over the next several weeks, park my truck and put up a sign where the food bank recipients can see it with the words:

"Free potatoes, turnips, cabbages and cannabis"

With what I have, I should be able to provide free cannabis to more than 200 adults before it is all gone. And with that, I will end my cannabis career with one last thumb-of-the-nose to the feds and to everyone else who tried their damnedest to ruin my life. All's well that ends well, he who laughs last ... and all that.

I wish those of you who are back in Tennessee or in other states besides New Mexico were close enough to get your own free ganja gift from me. You're welcome to head this way and if you do, send me a shout-out so I can save some for you. Pretty soon, my kind -- like those nine kind and loving pups I rescued who now all have forever homes -- will be gone and I will still be here and I will still be STANDING. With a huge grin on my face, another story to tell and the appreciation of another 200 neighbors, soon to be friends. All's well, indeed.

As Buckaroo Bonzai once said, "No matter where you go, there you are." So make the best of it. I am so thankful that I am and will continue to be the best person I can be, here on the high slopes of the Hidden Valley where I are. Have a good day. Do right and risk the consequences. After all, you ARE the man (and I mean you women too.)

Y'all come. Your favorite (ex) felon.