The Weed War

  Harley jumps to her feet, "Oh no. You can’t do that." She hurries over and holds out her hand, "Mine please."

  Mr. Borinski hands her a book. She can’t believe it. In her hands is a book, something that changed the world, but then was lost. She thinks to herself, between the pages is a world of the unknown. She brings it up to her nose and inhales the dark musky smell that lends to its mystery. She examines the title.

  The Diary of Renee de Garcias, A Weed War Tale

  “Huh.” She feels the embossed green leaf on the cover, its seven points protruding out like fingers on a hand. "What is this leaf?" she asks, looking up at Mr. Borinski.

  "That is the leaf of the Cannabis plant, sometimes called weed."

  "That’s the plant that destroyed a country?" One boy asks as he takes his book.

  Mr. Borinski smiles, but shakes his head. "It wasn't the plant as much as the principles that it represented."

  "What do you mean?" another boy asks.

  Mr. Borinski looks up, and sees everyone in the classroom is hooked. "I can't tell you. We’ll have to read this, and find out what each of you thinks; only then will you understand."

  The boy steps forward and sticks out his hand. "All right then, give me a book."

  Harley’s best friend Olga rushes over to Harley to compare books. “Can you believe it?”

  “No.” Harley shakes her head as she stares at the cover of the book and runs her fingers over the leaf. “I never could have imagined,” she said, her smile glowing with excitement.

  After a brief discussion about how to treat the books, the bell rings, and Mr. Borinski hands out the last book. The students scramble to pack up and move the desks back. Mr. Borinski yells over the commotion, "Read the forward and the first entry tonight and be prepared to discuss it tomorrow."

  Chapter 2

  Olga walks into the apartment her family lives in, places her jacket on an old wooden coat rack, and steps over her little sister, who at nine months old is a crawling machine, bouncing from one object to the next. "I'm home,” she says as she walks into the kitchen.

  "Holamija." her mom responds, smiling.

  "Mole and chicken again?" Olga rolls her eyes and sticks out her tongue, "Yuck."

  "You should be thankful, mija, this is the same recipe your great-grandma learned before the fall." Her face becomes stoic and her eyelids drop.

  "Don’t be sad." Olga leans in and hugs her mom. "They’re in a better place now. Right?" She taps on the cross that dangles on a chain around her neck.

  Trying to hold back the tears, her mother turns around and changes the subject. "How was school today?"

  Olga shakes her head. "You can't just ignore your feelings. You have to face them."

  "What do you know? You’re only a kid."

  "I'm 19, so I'm not a kid any longer, and I know if some government guy came and killed you like he did your mom I’d..."

  Her mom swings around and slaps Olga. "Don't you speak about that."

  "Fine!" she turns around, and scurries away holding her face, crying. "Be that way." She walks into her bedroom and slams the door.

  Olga can't understand why people would allow the killing of anyone over 75. Sure, it saved money, but to her it was genocide even if it was voluntary. She throws herself down on the bed and looks at her backpack. "Let’s check out this book." She opens it and begins to read.

  The Diary of Renee de Garcias, A Weed War Tale, Forward and Entry 1.

  Forward

  “It is said, that even the mightiest waterfall starts with one drop of rain. My sister understood this and lived her life by it. The following is her account of the passing of legalized marijuana and the chaos that followed.

  Entry 1

  My name is Renee de Garcias, I am a 18 year old college student at Denver University. I haven't decided what my major should be, but I'm not sure it will matter. I was born with the ability to see connections in things. What you see as coincidence is a web of connections that always points to some major event. I have to admit, I'm often wrong about the end result, but I am never wrong about there being something that will happen. Yesterday, I believe the pin was pulled on the grenade, and it's just a matter of time before it explodes. Let me explain, the legalization of marijuana was passed by popular vote in two states, Washington and here in Colorado. The year is 2012.

  At face value it seems like a pretty simple issue: the people have decided that the prohibition of a natural plant was not in the best interest of those states. It is one of the few issues that people on both sides of the political divide agree on, yet something has kept it from happening in the past. That something isn’t just going to roll over and let weed just take all that they have away. Who is “they”? They are any entity that profits from the plant being illegal: private corrections, big oil, electric, big chemical companies, and a host of others. These companies control commodity markets that produce products that hemp, a direct relative of marijuana, can easily replace.

  Despite the millions of dollars spent annually on negative propaganda, somehow the momentum has switched, and like a slow methodical tsunami, it is spreading out across the country. This type of spreading is scary to those in charge; they could lose the grip they have on the neck of this great nation. My dad was a conservative and a professor of history so I have a pretty good grasp on the subject. Never in history have those with the power willingly given up their power without a fight, and that's what scares me.

  I saw all of my friends running around like it was Christmas yesterday, and I couldn’t help but join in. They smoked hundreds of joints, passing them up and down the halls of the dorms as if the law had also overturned the school rules. My friend Vince kept rolling them up and passing them out. I thought back to Dec 5, 1933, the day the 21st amendment was ratified, ending the prohibition of alcohol. How they must have celebrated, with drinks in the halls and parties all night. The situation was different for them, because prohibition of alcohol was lifted by the federal government and alcohol can't replace any of the commodities that make hemp so dangerous.

  Four years ago, if anyone would have asked someone in my family about legalization of marijuana they would have scoffed at them. We were brought up to believe that drugs were bad and they were all painted with the same brush. That was before cancer, the ugliest word in the dictionary. I remember sitting in the doctor’s office, watching the doctor’s lips move but no sound coming out. My dad just hung his head and my mom wept. No one wants to hear they only have six months to live, but that’s what they told him: my dad was dying of cancer and had six months left.

  He had no intentions of just giving up, so he dove into the most aggressive treatments he could find. The problem is, every treatment had the same effect on his stomach, and he couldn’t keep any food down. An alternative doctor we found online suggested that he try medical marijuana. He had already lost over 50 pounds, and he needed nutrition, but when we asked his primary care doctor about using medical marijuana, she dropped him as a patient.

  I was flabbergasted. How could a doctor drop him just for asking a question about a plant. I soon found out that surrounding the little sticky plant was a host of negative associations, planted by a systematic and continued campaign against it. Still skeptical, we researched every aspect of marijuana we could find and as a family we decided to give it a try. Within minutes he was able to eat, and after a week he had gained nearly ten pounds back. To us it was a miracle. To be fair, my father still died at the six month mark, just like the doctor said, but over the last three months one thing gave him more relief than any other, weed.

  No one from my family is a regular pot smoker, but after our experience with cancer we all became advocates for medical marijuana. To be honest, I'm still not sure it should be used for anything other than medicine, and just like any other prescribed drug it shouldn't be abused. I'm obviously not in the majority, at least here in Colorado,
but I'm OK with the outcome.

  The outcome is new, different than anything we have ever seen before. Sure, slavery and prohibition of alcohol were both changed despite the strong historical significance. They both nearly destroyed the Union and that was before the Internet, before TV, before Facebook. The world is different now, and the Feds know it. Already this morning there is talk of federal interference into Amendment 64. I have a funny feeling about this so I sat down and decided to add it to this journal; hopefully it can serve as an unbiased look into the weed issue.”

  Chapter 3

  Harley closes the book and looks up at her empty cold room. She leans over, presses a button on the wall and says, "Call Olga." A dial tone is heard, and a strange ring begins. Olga answers, and a 3D image of her head pops up.

  "Hey, chica," Olga says.

  "Did you read the first entry?"

  Olga’s eyes get big, "OMG, yes... it's... so, exciting."

  "I know, right, and this Renee, she’s our age."

  "Can you imagine, living in a world where you could paint, or write, or sing, a world where..."

  Harley cut her off, "You could choose who you get to marry."

  Olga rolls her eyes, "Now you’re talking crazy talk." She busts up laughing.

  Harley drops her shoulders, "I'm serious, look at our lives, everything is predetermined by Selection. Maybe I don't want to marry a guy with the same IQ as me."

  Olga laughs again, "You want one of the huge brutes we see swinging sledge hammers on the maglev tracks."

  Harley turns red. "Have you seen the muscles on them?"

  Olga flashes a sheepish grin, "You know I have."

  A loud bang in the background draws Harley’s attention. "Uh oh, my mom is home…got to go…see you tomorrow." She presses the button, Olga disappears, and she pulls the grey blanket over her head as her mom opens the door to check on her. "Goodnight, Harley."

  "Goodnight, Mom."

  Chapter 4

  The class of students sits quietly waiting. Mr. Borinski comes through the door and looks down at the digital clock built into his sleeve, "Is my suit's clock off?" he asks the class.

  One of the tall boys in the front named Mark says, "No sir, we’re all here early."

  He smiles and places a box on his desk, walks up to the board and writes down, “Forward” and “Entry 1.”

  "So, the Forward and the first Entry, can I get a show of hands of those who finished reading these sections?”

  All the students in the class raise their hands. "That’s everyone. Wow, that's pretty impressive! How did what you read make you feel?" He walks over, turns a seat around and sits on it backward, crossing his arms and resting them on the chair.

  Olga, a stellar student, raises her hand. “It made me mad.”

  "Why?" Borinski asks.

  "Because I thought, how could they let some plant destroy democracy?"

  Mark Pena, the tall boy from earlier, is an opinionated young man with a chip on his shoulder. He doesn’t raise his hand, but he wants his opinion to be heard, so he cuts in before the teacher can respond. "Damn sister, you know what democracy led to, everyone knows that."

  "What’s that? What did it lead to? “Harley asks defiantly.

  Mark is delighted by the challenge. "Democracy led to debauchery and greed, "he states, as if by rote. He smiles as if he had just thrown a knockout blow.

  Harley laughs out loud and looks at Olga. "You believe this guy?" She turns back to Mark. "You may have a hard time understanding this, but democracy led to freedom and liberty."

  Mark rolls his eyes. "Freedom and liberty are illusions."

  Mr. Borinski interrupts them. "Ah, freedom and liberty! Can I get a show of hands of those who believe that those words are negative." All but two students, Olga and Harley, raise their hands. "Wow, OK, so who can tell me why you think that freedom and liberty are negative concepts?"

  Zack, a blond motorcycle rider, raises his hand and Mr. Borinski nods at him to answer. "It's negative because, like Thomas Hobbes said, people can’t be trusted to make the right decisions, and every time in human history, when given this so-called freedom or liberty, humans go wild.”

  "How do you know?" Olga asks.

  "It's in every history book I've ever read," Zack replies.

  Mr. Borinski continues, "OK, so let me ask this question: what does the saying ‘history is written by the victor’ mean?"

  Harley turns to Zack and Mark and raises one eyebrow. "Well?"

  A girl in the back who usually doesn’t say much raises her hand.

  "Yes, Tanya?"

  "Well, it's just…" She looks up and her deep brown eyes are a stark contrast to her pale white skin.

  Zack cuts her off, "Spit it out... stu...pid."

  "Give her a chance," Harley interjects.

  "What class rule did Zack just break?" Mr. Borinski asks. He doesn't wait for an answer, he points his laser pointer at rule number two. "Respect others. Now where were we? Tanya was answering the question. OK, Tanya."

  Her nervousness begins to waiver. "I think it means that it would be foolish to think that our history books are anything more than propaganda for the winning side." She throws Zack a crooked smile causing her right cheek to dimple swallowing her beauty mark.

  "Are you listening to this?" Zack asks Mark angrily. "So what are you saying, Mr. B?"

  Mr. Borinski raises his shoulders and holds out his hands. "I'm not; I'm asking the questions. The answers are yours."

  Harley comes to Mr. Borinski's defense, "What are you scared of?" She asks Zack.

  Zack responds, "Scared? I'm not scared."

  Olga pipes in."Sounds to me like your greatest fear is freedom."

  "Girls, I think you need to back off and remember it isn't Zack that we are discussing but rather the issues," Mr. Borinski admonishes. He raises his arm and twists his wrist band counter clockwise twice, and clockwise once, activating his suit watch. He stares down at the digital numbers, shakes his head.

  "We’re running low on time, so why don't we try to come up with a couple of prediction questions for tomorrow. You have thirty seconds." He stands up, walks over to the board and writes down in the assignment section, “Entry 2”. He turns and watches the seconds tick down on the sleeve he is using as a stopwatch. "OK, give me some questions."

  Harley has her hand up first and he calls on her. "Why was a plant so dangerous that it needed to be illegal?”

  "Good question," Mr. Borinski says, as he writes it down. "One more?"

  Mark raises his hand and is called on. "How can a plant bring down a superpower?"

  The bell rings as Mr. Borinski concludes the class. "Read entry two, and come prepared for a quiz on the two new questions, as well as what you’ve read."

  Chapter 5

  The Diary of Renee de Garcias, A Weed War Tale,

  Entry 2

  It's been one year, three months and twenty-one days since the passing of amendment 64, here in Colorado. The first year was uneventful and I actually thought for a brief moment that I may be wrong about the law. In October 2014, a provision of house bill HB-1317 became official, and the flood gates opened, an economic boom the likes of which are unheard of, exploded.

  In the first week alone, over two thousand new coffee shops were opened across the state, and it was estimated that over two million pot tourists poured into colorful Colorado. It was crazy, with lines of people coming out of every door, everyone smiling, hugging, an energy that was lost after 9-11. I went to a pot parade at the Pearl Street mall in Boulder and more than ten thousand people lit up at 4:20 P.M. to celebrate. Sources in the Rocky Mountain News were quoted saying, “It was the largest crowd in the popular shopping area since the infamous Halloween mall crawls in the late 80's.”

  The cities who accepted the new businesses brought in more tax money in the first quarter this year than they did in the last two years combined. The economic
boom has prompted mayors to draw their own lines in the sand; one mayor has gone as far as to warn the federal government that they would be seen as an invading enemy if they tried to keep weed illegal in Colorado and that his citizens are ready for a fight. I’m hoping for a more peaceful resolution, and wish we could strive for a more evolved way of interacting. All the posturing and puffing up about the new law is not that much different from how our closest relative the great ape acts. The only difference is the ape doesn’t force someone else to fight his battle for him. We as humans believe ourselves to be so much higher than other animals yet we can’t seem to shake our most undesirable traits, and we are fighting over the use of a plant. Why?

  Chapter 6

  Mr. Borinski writes on the board, “Economic Bubble” and joins the circle. "Any thoughts about these words today?" He points back at the board.

  Harley waves her hand back and forth, but Mr. Borinski is trying to find someone new to answer. In the back of the room, just outside the circle is a young man with his head down on his desk. "Spencer." Everyone in the room turns to look at the sandy blond head, as Mr. Borinski says his name again, "Spencer."

  Spencer raises his head and drool drips down his cheek. "Huh… yeah… what was the question?"

  "What do you think about economic bubbles?" Olga whispered to him.

  "Oh... yeah...economic bubbles are the artificial inflation of perceived value in a specific commodity that is a direct result of the economic system called capitalism," he says, smiling as he waits approval.

  "That most certainly is what an economic bubble is, but what do you think about them?" Mr. Borinski inquires.

  Spencer tilts his head to the side and closes one eye. "Not sure what you mean?"

  "Look, I know you’re smart enough to regurgitate definitions, but what I want is critical thinking outside of the box you call your own perception. First, we must work on building opinions, then work on understanding that our opinions are not real and have very little to do with reality. I'll ask again. What do you think about economic bubbles? There are no wrong answers."