Visited by Rastas II

     So, cannabis quickly became an important part of my every day (or nearly so).  A trait that I have shared with the Rastas from day zero to the present (though they were unknown to me at the time).
     Fast-forward to day 1180. "I know, a few days more than three and a half years". San Jose behind us along with our old selves; our new selves now comfortably ensconsed in a large Victorian on Divisadero St. where we had originally planned to use a 2500 square foot, street level space as a store/shop for things we crafted from various re-cycled materials. Two seven-room flats on the top floor of the building provided residence for those of us working there. On the same street, within a couple of blocks of us, were probably a half-dozen or more gift shops and second-hand stores, including the famous "Third Hand Store"  doing, according to their owners, quite well. so, we expected we could possibly do the same.  Maybe " same" isn't quite the right word.
     We were in the very-early part of preparing our street-level space for its exciting new life as a trendy little money-catcher just two flights down from our pretty scrumptous digs, which we had just re-finished, when we became aware that we new-comers to San Francisco were among a huge influx of people coming from all over the country and from many places abroad. The summer before had, after all, been the  "summer of love" in  "The City" and, the media had covered it well and often and apparantly had convinced thousands to check  it out in person.
     Our first day working at street level was an eye-opener.  A couple of dozen curious passers-by came in to inquire about job possibilities, places to stay, the nature of our business, etc. A couple asked if they could crash there for a night or two and leave their stuff with us during the day,while they found their place. At that point, the street-level space was unheated, not weather-secure and the floor was bare concrete.  We put the couple in the spare bedroom in our flat upstairs. A very comfortable room for two which we arranged for a time when family might visit. Our guests were happy with it and we were happy to make it available. In the next few days we talked to many new-comers, mostly young adults and teens, living out of their backpacks and often sleeping under the stars. People who, for one reason or another, have left some home somewhere in America or abroad to get together with others who want to make love; not war.  And everything else that that implies. None of this was a surprise to me.  I just hadn't thought about a great number of folks suddenly moving to the City at the same time as I.  Or that so many of them would be in my neighborhood and in such need. In about two weeks after we started work at street level, we decided to abandon the trendy store plan and adopt a plan that would have us making stuff from re-cycled materials (mostly  high quality, commercial grade carpet remnants) which we'd sell to support the operation of our place as a sort-of transient aid station;supplying food, shelter, base of operation (address, telephone, laundry, workspace). Services supplied at rates affordable to clients even if they can afford nothing.
     Please excuse another pause while I consult my notes.

Visited by Rastas

In this case, Rasta refers to members of the Jamaican Rastafarian organization.(say  rahs tah fah RYan).Google "Haile Selassie"  and"Marcus Garvey"for details. 
     For me, the story starts in the summer of '67.  My work was in San Jose, Ca. then, as a industrial distributor's represenative. Probably the most interesting and certainly the most lucrative of my many different experiences in the workplace. Much as I  consciously liked pretty much every aspect of my position then,  something that I couldn't seem to put my finger on, that I don't understand to this day, was often causing periods of deep dread and very discomforting and alarming thoughts to invade my otherwise happy self.  One day, when I had arranged for our company's hydraulic products expert to accompany me to visit a client who needed his best advise on a hydraulics application his company was then installing.  Our company's expert  and I had also become friends; having worked together a couple or so days a month for about a year, by then.
     In recent months, he had begun to offer me marijuana to smoke.  Being an especially law-abiding citizen (that's a whole 'nother story) I always declined. At least up to that day. But now my demons talked to me in my own voice and they were suggesting stuff I didn't like but felt I might have to follow eventually. To discomfort and depression, add fear.
     After we finished our last client visit of the day, my friend offered the "Boo" as he called it, and this time I accepted. I had no idea what to expect, even though I had by then , known many regular cannabis smokers and had listened to their discriptions. Actually, I guess you could say I expected some kind of mild euphoria or at least a pleasant experience.  He rolled a "joint", just a little smaller than a regular cigarette and we shared it; each having 3 or 4 puffs  before putting it down for a rest. I remember for a moment thinking that it might not work on me or maybe it wouldn't work the first time. That thought was almost immediately crushed by this giant wave of well-being washing over me and as it passed away from me it seemed to "paint" everything it passed over with their own, natural colors, effectively restoring my color vision a moment before I realized that it had been missing for some time. In the few days that followed, I rediscovered much of the joy involved in human life on planet  Earth.  Though only 29 at the time, somehow the life I had lead up to then had apparently  caused me to block much of the best parts of life. Suddenly, I was seeing color  all of the time; was really struck by how many shades of green there are. The sounds!  Music, people's voices,even the noise of traffic., All delightful. Family, friends and neighbors were suddenly so dear, life so sweet. By the end of that first day I was well on my way to a whole new way to live. Considering how all those beautiful changes took place in my mind beginning only moments after my very first experience smoking cannabis, it seems only right for it to get the credit. It does, and that's just the beginning.
         But now, owing to scheduling and limited available time I need to break off here to return in a couple of days with this story's conclusion.       cheerio!