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by
Bill Ellison
I am "dressed to stone," marijuana-related
clothing on, a red bandana tied in place atop my skull. I hop on
my bicycle and pedal to Montrose Park on the lakefront with a container
full of white wine and a Frisbee loaded in my backpack. How big
will the Windy City Hemp Fest be this year? I roll into the scene
and can hear a familiar voice on the stage singing the final verse
of a song, ending each line with words like "fucked-up"
and "shit." It's a fellow performer from some of the local
dinge joints, Rocky. We exchange greetings near the roped-off area
behind the stage, before I go off to find my wife and friends who
are seated somewhere amidst the patches of partiers.
I check out the tables along the perimeter of the grounds. What
is on display this year is not different from years past; there's
just a little less of it. There are small sheets of paper stacked
under little stones. Some are wrapped in rubber bands and are printed
with proclamations for Independent Political Action and Stopping
the Political Right.
The Fourth Amendment, stating the right of the people to be
secure in their persons, houses, effects, against unreasonable searches,
blah blah blah, no warrant, blah
blah blah, probable cause, blah
blah blah...The Cannabis
Act: Contact your representatives today to support house bill
4868 -Illinois' Medical Cannabis Act, blah
blah blah...
A middle-aged woman stands next to a table stretching out her
T-shirt, which is covered with buttons for sale, on which are emblazoned
sayings like "Thank you for Pot smoking," There
are a few T-shirts, hemp necklaces, hemp wristbands, and screen
walls covered with articles about legalizing marijuana and how its
use can help remedy some of the ills of our society. They are all
on display in a melancholy way, with only a few people stopping
to look.
Yeah sure, there's a fair turnout-bands playing and advocates who
seem as if they stepped out of a time machine saying their peace
(er...piece), but the enthusiasm of the past has dissipated over
time. Poor old Mary Jane. She's no more than a harmless weed that
lets you smile, laugh and forget about the bullshit that eventually
creeps into your life. I don't even see her friend, the familiar
Drum Circle, with strangers sitting and jamming together, symbolizing
unity of the human spirit, sharing themselves through their beat
- like a joint shared at a party or the peace pipe of the Native
Americans.
It's all for a good cause, but as the years go by the whole legalization
scene seems to be fading into obscurity. The legalization of marijuana,
even for medical use, is hardly being fought for by the younger
generation, let alone the baby boomers who are in more of a position
to have it legalized now than they ever were before. Nope, everyone's
traded in their hash pipes for cell phones. As my buzz wears off
and my beard begins to gray, I sip my wine and toss my Frisbee across
the sand to my wife one more time. Aloha.
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