Today

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When I was 15, I came to Toronto from small-town Ontario with a group of friends in the back of a red van. It was Sunday, June 28, 1978. We were going to the Marijuana Mardi Gras at City Hall, hosted by the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws in Canada.

You can tell from the photo how stoned I was taking the picture—the guy on the roof is forever headless. 

One of those men looking into the camera liked me an awful lot.
 
We found out about the Mardi Gras from a poster nailed to a wooden hydro pole in our town. Those were the days.

Two years later, at 17, I chose my preferred substance and let the rest go.
 
I've been fighting for causes when it feels right since 1978. It only took another 40 years for legalization to happen. This year I've been grateful for that progress. 
 
I used THC after my recent knee replacement. Some of the smartest women I know work in cannabis. Happily, they shared their knowledge. I talked about it with the surgeon and anesthesiologist, my mom, trusted friends in recovery, and close friends who love me. I asked if there was research being done in orthopaedics. There isn't. 

My goals were to cut opiate use post-surgery—I walked half of the vile pills back to the pharmacy after two weeks—and reduce pain during the early days of physiotherapy. It worked. But that's just me. 
 
We stopped at Sam's on Yonge Street before we left Toronto that day. Cute guys with long hair wearing Rush t-shirts and girls poured into Sergio Valente jeans, their lips varnished with cheap cherry flavoured lip gloss, spilt out the entrance onto the sidewalk. 
 
I bought my first British Import LP—$17 in 1978. It made all the hours I spent sweating in an orange polyester uniform working the grill on a lunch counter worth it. 
 
 I still love this song.

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Soundtrack - 1970