A Valid Case Against Marijuana

This topic may be controversial, but I just have to speak out. First, let me offer congratulations to the voters of Ohio who last week rejected a proposal to legalize recreational use of marijuana. I couldn't be prouder of our neighboring state.

The subject of drugs seems to have recently become front and center as a topic of news and discussions. Not too long ago I met a retired judge, and in the course of our conversation he asked what I thought about legalizing marijuana for recreational use. I vigorously shook my head. “An absolutely bad idea,” I said. "Why?" he asked.

I told him about the 20 years I spent as a staff member at Teen Challenge, a residential-care program for people with life-controlling problems--mostly alcoholics and drug addicts. Our staff heard countless stories from students who admitted that their journey to hard drugs all too often began with the seemingly "innocent" marijuana.They told us that very few people only smoke marijuana. A majority of marijuana users also pop pills, drink booze, shoot heroin or snort cocaine.

One woman, who had been addicted to heroin for 15 years, described her first encounter with marijuana: "When I smoked my first marijuana cigarette, I felt like someone had undressed me inside. I didn't care what I did or who I did it with. It wasn't long before I was using harder drugs." 

Someone else said, "When I was smoking marijuana, I became so mellow--almost care-free. Now that I'm completely off drugs, I'm at the top of my game. I have a lot of energy and drive, and I have the work responsibilities to go with it. If I were still smoking pot, I'd be so laid back that I wouldn't care about anything. I wouldn't even be able to keep my job."

Another long-time drug addict was asked what he considered the most dangerous drug. "Marijuana," he responded without hesitation. "The problem is that people just don't want to admit that it is definitely a gateway drug."

  

If the very individuals who enter a rehabilitation program in order to free themselves of their addiction declare that marijuana is a gateway drug, who am I to argue?

Even the National Institute of Drug Abuse cautions that marijuana use causes . . . 

• altered senses (for example, seeing brighter colors)
• altered sense of time
• changes in mood
• impaired body movement
• difficulty with thinking and problem-solving
• impaired memory

When I shared this information with my judge friend, he called it all a "theory." "Look at it from a business point of view," he argued. "One man in Denver said the first day marijuana was legalized, he profited over $35,000. That’s pretty impressive. I think legalizing marijuana is a good business proposition, even if it is for recreational use."

I bit my tongue because of the irony in his comment. This same judge had told me earlier that he had  sentenced drug addicts to the Teen Challenge program in lieu of jail time. A high percentage of those individuals began their tumultuous lifestyles using the very drug he wants to see legalized because of the savvy business benefit.

His Honor isn't the only person who wants to make a little profit. Actor / musician Nick Lachey, Ohio native, saw a great business opportunity for himself and a handful of other marijuana moguls if Ohio voted yes to pot. For weeks prior to the election, Nick appeared on television ads encouraging Ohioans to approve recreational use of marijuana because it would benefit the state. In reality, it would have actually benefited Nick and his cronies. If Ohio had said "yes," Nick & Co. would have a monopoly on the profits realized from the sale of marijuana.

With every financial profit, there is a cost. Someone pays so someone else can profit. What is happening in our nation that so many people view opportunities through the lens of money without considering the cost to those who are making them rich? It's a heavy price to pay, don't you think?   

Thanks, Ohio. Your message came through loud and clear. Hopefully other states will follow your lead before our entire country goes to pot.

Don't Neglect Your Mess

 Not far from our home is a dentist office that advertises the latest in dental technology. The building is beautiful and modern. The fancy sign on the roof includes the time and temperature, as if to say, "We set trends in the dental world." Driving by the office gives a person the impression that if you were in the market for a new dentist, you'd be crazy not to go there. Walking by, however, is another story.

The building has two large front windows minus blinds or shades. One window gives a person a view of the waiting room. From the outside it looks neat and welcoming with neatly-arranged magazines and comfortable chairs. The other window gives a clear view of the administrator's office. I don't know how else to say this except that it's an absolutely disastrous mess. Sloppy files are piled along the window. Papers are stacked on the counter, the desk and the floor. It looks like someone tossed their unfinished work into a room and shut the door, forgetting the mess they left behind. Out of sight, out of mind. What they fail to realize is that there's a large uncovered window through which the rest of the world can view the mess.

One day when I was out for my morning walk, the administrator pulled into the parking lot at the side of the building where the entrance is. Since the windows are situated at the front of the building, she doesn't see what the office looks like to people on the outside. I'll wager the dentist isn't aware of it either. A quick walk around the building would show them that what they think is safely hidden inside is in full view of everyone else.

I almost said something to the administrator about the outside-to-inside view, but I just quickened my pace and finished my walk. "It's their problem," I thought to myself. Now that I think about it, I might have done them a tremendous favor by pointing out the inconsistency. 

I hope people will tell me if they see something "messy" in me that I don't see. Sometimes I'm like the administrator who parks in one spot and sees things only from one view, when a quick 360 walk-around of my life would make me aware of things that need to be changed and fixed.

So, before I point out all of the flaws at the dental office, maybe I should step back and look through  my own windows to see what things I've neglected by carelessly throwing them into a room, locking the door and hoping no one else will notice.

Sigh . . . Another thing on my emotional to-do list. But I always feel better when I straighten out a mess. It'll be worth it.

A Case for Abstinence

It takes a lot to get my ire up, but this guy came very close. Around three years ago, he introduced me to his pregnant girlfriend. "This is my baby mama," he bragged. "Baby's due in six months." I smiled at the young girl who shyly smiled back.

A few months later he informed me, "Hey--I have a six-month-old baby." I was a stunned. "Did your girlfriend have her baby already?" I asked, wondering if maybe she was more than three months pregnant when I met her.

"Oh, no," he said. "That baby mama not due until June. My six-month-old baby was one I didn't know I had until last week." Before I could stop myself, I responded, "You know, when God said to populate the earth, I think He meant to get married first."

A couple of months ago I ran into the same guy. Puffing out his chest he said, "Hey! Guess how many kids I have now. Five! And the oldest one is two." I silently tried to digest this mathematical conundrum. "What do you mean? How can you have five children ages two and under?"

"Three baby mamas. Three baby mamas and five babies," he boasted like he was waiting for me to give him an Emmy or an Oscar or whatever award would be given to reward such behavior. I blurted out, "Look . . . You gotta close this thing up. That's too many babies with too many women."  I know. It was a bit blunt, but someone had to say it. Once he realized I wasn't going to sing accolades about his exploits, he turned and walked away. I haven't seen him since.

When does it stop? I'm not just talking about this young guy who thinks making babies is his life's mission. I'm talking about the loss of morality that is culminating in unfathomable decisions with often serious consequences.

Did you know that 78% of abortions in the United States are performed on unmarried women? (see www.abortionfacts.com) Freedom of choice? Couples make their choice when they decide to sleep together without fully considering the end results.

While the family unit disintegrates and the percentage of single-mother pregnancies soars, the so-called experts beat around the bush by offering ineffective solutions such as "shotgun weddings" (where you immediately marry the girl you get pregnant), readily-available contraceptives, or government-funded abortions.

One contributor posted on the Dads' Rights Newsgroup blog site, "Since the decision to have the child is solely up to the mother, I don't see how both parents have responsibility to that child."
Whatever happened to taking responsibility for one's actions?

The wedding night used to be sacred. Now it seems there is no such thing because the anticipated "wedding night activity" occurs long before the marriage takes place. Even King Solomon knew the importance of waiting when he said three different times, "Do not arouse or awaken love until it so desires."

At the risk of sounding outdated, why not take the safest, sanest route--wait until marriage to have sex. Good Ol' Fashioned Abstinence. What if parents educated their kids about moral values instead of wimpy reasoning like, "Well, they're gonna have sex anyway, so they might as well have it here at home instead of in the back seat of a car"? What if teens grew a spine instead of surrendering to peer pressure by compromising, "Everyone is doing it. I want to be accepted"? What if  self control was once again respected instead of rejected?

So, here's my old-fashioned advice: Guys, respect your woman by showing enough self-control to insist that you both wait until after marriage to express your love in a physical manner. Gals, don't you dare lower your standards by letting any guy anywhere call you his "baby mama" until he makes you his wife first. It's the proper and healthy order of things.

I hope someone out there agrees with me.  Can I get an Amen?

Learning contentment from a 7-year-old

This past week my husband and I attended a birthday party for the seven-year-old son of some friends. We tucked seven crisp one-dollar bills in a Superman card and, when the birthday boy met us on the driveway of his home, I handed him the card. He glanced at it briefly and said sweetly, "No thank you."

"Honey, this is your birthday gift," I urged, surprised at his response. "It has money in it. Don't you want it?"

"No thank you," he repeated.

We were a little taken back. What normal kid doesn't want a gift--especially money? Meanwhile, his young friends surrounded us, clamoring, "I want it! I'll take the money!" I held the card high in the air so his "normal" friends couldn't extricate it from my hands. Then I headed toward the birthday boy's parents and gave them the gift, commenting on their son's refusal to accept it. The mother explained that he's always been like that, wondering why people give him gifts if he hasn't asked for anything. He's simply content and creative with what he has.

Personally, I find the young boy's attitude extremely refreshing. Think of how many times you've attended children's parties and, while the guest of honor is opening his/her gifts, other kids are crying, "What about me? Where's my gift?" Where do kids learn this stuff?

I was in a store check-out line while the cashier and the customer in front of me lamented how unfair it was that some famous person had received an enormous inheritance. "He's so greedy," the cashier complained. "The least he could do is share his wealth with other people."

"I know," opined the customer. "It's not fair that some people have so much and others have so little." He grabbed his bags and walked off. I stepped up in line, smiled at the cashier and said, "So, if you receive a large inheritance will you share it with me? It just wouldn't be fair if you kept it all yourself."  If looks could kill . . .

Isn't human nature funny. When we don't have much, we despise those who do. (I think that's called envy.)  But when we DO enjoy abundance, greed can cause us to keep it all to ourselves. (I think that's called jealousy.) Where do we learn this stuff?


I know a seven-year-old kid who could teach us a thing or two about contentment. He obviously learned it somewhere. Hats off to his parents.

Closing the Relationship Gap

The "six degrees of separation" theory -- the idea that everyone in the world is separated from everyone else by only six links -- has been around since the early 1960's. A few years ago ABC's Primetime reported on an experiment conducted by Columbia University professor Duncan Watts to see who could connect themselves to a random third individual the fastest.

Each participant, or "searcher," was assigned a random "target," one of 18 people around the world. Their job was to link to this person via e-mail by creating a human chain. First, the participants e-mailed someone they knew. Then they asked that person to continue the links by e-mailing someone else they knew. The hope was to eventually send an e-mail to someone who knew the "target" personally, completing the chain. 

Around 60,000 people from 170 countries took part in the experiment. Of the hundreds of chains that were completed, they discovered that the average number of links was six, supporting the six degrees of separation theory. (To read the full report, visit abcnews.go.com/Primetime/story?id=2717038.)

Funny. I've always thought the separation between people was greater than six degrees. Maybe I learned it from living in a less-than-friendly Detroit suburb. When we moved here twelve years ago, I was eager to meet our neighbors, build relationships and just enjoy new friends. Shortly after moving in, my husband saw the elderly woman who lives next door and told her how eager I was to meet her. Her chilly response was, "Well, winter's coming soon. Tell your wife I'll meet her next spring." After all these years, I still haven't had a conversation with the woman.

I experienced the exact opposite a few weeks ago on a visit with our daughter and son-in-law, who live in Edgewood, New Mexico, a small town east of Albuquerque. While our next-door neighbor in Michigan is separated from us by a mere stone's throw, my daughter's next-door neighbor lives on the other side of their five-acre ranch. We walked the equivalent of a couple of city blocks to get to the nearest house.

The neighbors were thrilled for our company. They warmly invited us in, offered something to drink and spent a couple of hours just chewing the fat. Two other neighbors gave us freshly-laid eggs from their chickens and offered their horses and mules for us to ride. One of them said they were going to visit Michigan soon and asked if we could meet them for dinner. Another neighbor paid our way and served as our personal tour guide at a local wildlife rescue zoo.

In the five days I spent in New Mexico, I learned more about my kids' neighbors than I know about my own neighbors after living here for more than a decade. Our kids have lived in Edgewood for only five months. My son-in-law has already added all of his distant neighbors to the contact list on his phone. I have a few neighbors' names and numbers jotted down on pieces of paper sloppily tacked to a bulletin board in my laundry room. My son-in-law gets calls like, "Do you have a minute to come and help me bury a dead rattlesnake?" (He was out the door in a flash, by the way.) I observe from the window of our kitchen as an ambulance pulls up and whisks the neighbor whose name I don't know to the hospital.

Edgewood might be a small town, but they're big on time, genuine concern for each other and availability to develop relationships. If there are degrees of separation in our relationships, we have created them ourselves.

Maybe I'll try burying a dead rattlesnake in the yard, right on the property line. It may not build a relationship with my elderly neighbor, but it certainly would get her attention. That's a good way to start, don't you think?

Talk like a woman. Think like a man

 The other day my husband and I had a little disagreement. Nothing major. It was just enough to annoy me into verbalizing more than I should have. After a few minutes, I could tell my husband had lost interest in our discussion. He picked up the remote, turned on the TV and relaxed on the couch. I was very tempted to say, "Excuse me, but I'm not finished with our conversation." But that would have been futile. Obviously, he was finished.

I sat on the far side of our curvy couch and fought the temptation to talk over the TV. Then I stole a look at him. He had moved on from our little discussion and was totally engrossed in the TV program. "How does he do that?" I asked myself. I was fighting the urge to argue. He had no urge to fight. My blood pressure was rising. He was stable and calm.

Finally, the cool hand of reason brought me to my senses: Why make a big deal out of something that doesn't need to be dealt with? You talked like a woman. Now think like a man!

It has been said that a woman's brain is like spaghetti--her thoughts, feelings and emotions are all intertwined and difficult to separate. Everything is scrambled with no easy exit. A man's brain, on the other hand, is like a waffle. His thoughts are separated into neat little compartments and he can easily move from one to another with no overlap. Men can turn on and off as quickly as they can jump from one little box to another without looking back. They don't need an exit. They just escape to the next compartment. Men have a definite advantage. It's almost not fair.

The night of our disagreement, I decided to intentionally try to think like a man. Imagine turning spaghetti into a waffle. Messy! Plus, the flavor and texture are worlds apart. I suppose if everything is mixed, mashed and remolded, the compartmental concept can be created. I shoved the disagreement into a little mental box and forced myself to jump to a new topic of conversation. My husband never missed a beat. We engaged in pleasant banter for a while and shortly after, I headed for bed amazed at how easy it was to think manly thoughts. We have not discussed the "off-limits" topic since. Apparently the waffle compartments also have extremely tight lids.

My fellow females, try it. You'll appreciate how good it feels to let things go. Although I have noticed an increased craving for spaghetti and I can't imagine why.

Insight from Blight

Around a year ago I drove by my old elementary school in Detroit's inner city. Back in the day, it was one of the best schools in the city. It's where I learned to read, write, add and spell. The teachers were stern but dedicated, and they helped shape and challenge my young mind.

Today the school is closed. Not only is it closed. The building is in horrible disrepair with broken windows, unkempt grounds and a naked flagpole signifying neglect and loss of interest.

A few months ago, my husband and I drove by my alma mater where I spent four years of my young adult life and received my degree. The school recently merged with another university and my old campus that at one time bustled with life now stood cold and vacant. It was pretty depressing, and I'm glad we didn't stop for a lingering look.

Both schools are situated along busy interstates. I didn't step foot on either campus, but viewed them from the safety of the car as we slowed our speed to get a better look. The elementary school is located in a bleak, unsafe, crime-ridden area of Detroit. The college stands by itself on a quiet, lonely corner. Ironically, life swirls at a fast pace around the two lifeless campuses.

I'm usually pretty good about handling change. In fact sometimes I like to implement change just for the sake of change itself. But when it meddles with my nostalgic memories, I tend to put up an emotional resistance.

I suppose I could sit by the schools and mourn over what once was and is no more. But, just because someone has permanently locked the doors and boarded the windows, nothing can stifle the investment of learning, counsel and guidance I received over the accumulated ten years I spent at those two institutions.The campuses may have died, but the experiences and knowledge I received will remain for the rest of my life.While nostalgia draws me back, reality keeps me grounded. I can live and thrive in my reality. I can't thrive in nostalgia.

Change is inevitable, whether we like it or not. However, we don't have to change with the change. We will witness transitions in our families, friendships, employment, municipalities, states, federal government and laws, many of them unraveling the moral fiber to which we cling. It can be unsettling, to say the least.

When everything around us is shaken, we can remain unshaken by not staring at the moral blight and nostalgia of what once was. Instead, let's focus on the truth of our convictions and create change from a reality of morality.

God knows the world needs it.