Realizing that I’ve been taking something for granted — one grain of infinity — is never an abstraction. It generally happens by whack and wallop.

Oh yeah, the knee. The knee. It’s kind of important.

A crucial part of the realization process is acknowledgment. Maybe even learning something. So, pardon the details I’m about to reveal, but I’m trying to figure out what I may have just learned these past few days, even as I call out to the universe: “Enough!” I don’t want any more life lessons for a while. (Come on, I’m only 77.)

So what happened was, my long-time buddy, Malcolm — we’ve been best friends since 1967 — came to town for a visit last week. Wow, cool. Two long-time-ago hippies on their own in Chicago. The world felt wide open. And I was host. However, the day of his arrival — as I lay in bed that morning — my right knee woke me up with a piercing poke in my consciousness. No, not again!

It’s been a long circuitous journey. From 2011 to 2016, the word “medical” prefaced all submitted, rejected, or certified marijuana-related ballot initiatives in Ohio. All were proposed as constitutional amendments. Then, in March 2020, during the pandemic, the concept of regulating marijuana like alcohol emerged in an amendment that the Ohio Attorney General (OAG) rejected. A year and a half later in August 2021, the OAG did certify the Act to Control and Regulate Adult Use Cannabis (a resubmission) for signature gathering as – for the very first time – a citizen initiated statute. That meant game on for adult use cannabis in Ohio.

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,

With conquering limbs astride from land to land;

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame

Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name

Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand

Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command

The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she

With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”