|
Hester Wright was an old social worker trying to coast into
her retirement years. If only she could hold on to her job
for three more years: then she could quit, and collect
her pension. She could travel to Europe, read paperback novels,
and take up oil painting. Suddenly, Hester was aware of the
red light before her. She stepped on the brakes of her old
gasoline-propelled car, a relic from the year 2015. Once
again, Hester had been daydreaming about her golden
years....in Her Social Worker Zone.
Hester drove
into the parking lot of the substance abuse clinic where she
worked. Her old compact car could nearly park itself, she had
parked it in the same spot for so many years. She walked to
the clinic door. The walkway was dotted with the stubs of
marijuana cigarettes, not more than a quarter inch long each.
She tried not to step on them. She hated even getting the
bottoms of her shoes soiled with them.
Ever since
marijuana had been legalized by every state, these little
stubs were more common than tobacco cigarette butts.
Somehow, though, filter tips had not caught on. Marijuana
cigarettes could now be bought in supermarkets and vending
machines. Marijuana was sold in bulk as well. You could buy
it in different grades and in artificial flavors. Some of the
old-timers, those who could remember back when marijuana was
illegal, still preferred to grow and roll their own.
The problem for
Hester was the way legalization had changed her career. There
was no longer any concept of marijuana abuse or marijuana
addiction. Everyone nowadays talked about marijuana
use. How much an individual used depended on how
much was needed to relax or to reduce pain. And everyone
seemed to have a need to reduce pain these days.
Around 11:00
a.m., Hester's supervisor rang her on the phone. The
supervisor, Mary Jane Fulbright, ordered Hester to come to her
office on an urgent matter. Hester felt her pension slipping
away. She knew that tone in Mary Jane's voice. It meant
trouble. Hester was old. She had a preference for the old
days when she was able to help people recover from marijuana
addiction. This irritated her supervisor. Hester knew that
behind her back the supervisor referred to her as a throwback,
a drug czar, a Prohibitionist, an uptight old lady who could
use a few tokes herself.
"There has
been a complaint about you," Mary Jane said crossly.
Hester sat quietly, waiting to be fired. "One of your
patients said he gave you a pack of marijuana cigarettes for
Christmas and that you refused it. What do have to say for
yourself?"
"Well, um,
the clinic has a policy on not accepting gifts from patients.
I didn't want it to appear that I had accepted a bribe, or
that I was having an inappropriate relationship with a
patient."
"Don't
quote policy to me, Hester. If it had been a box of cookies,
I know you would have accepted it. Your behavior was an act
of discrimination. Your patient is suffering from feelings
of rejection over this."
Hester started
coughing. "What's the matter?!" demanded the
supervisor. "There's some marijuana smoke coming in
through your window. There must be some patients outside
smoking," Hester meekly replied.
Mary Jane rang
the secretary and scowled, "Are there any patients
outside smoking?" Hester could overhear the secretary
saying that Joe Blunt, one of the counsellors, was outside
taking his break. Mary Jane slammed the phone. "What
did she say?" asked Hester. "Nevermind!"
retorted Mary Jane.
The supervisor
regained composure and coolness. "Hester, you have got
to get over this old-fashioned view on marijuana. It's legal
and many people find it beneficial. It is no longer a
diagnosis. The marijuana issue is no longer an issue.
Therefore, I'm placing you on report. And, I'm recommending
that you enter psychotherapy as a condition for maintaining
your job. If you do not show improvement in your attitude
after eight weeks of therapy, you will be suspended without
pay."
Hester hung her
head and walked out of the supervisor's office. It was going
to be a long three years. Hester thought to herself, Now
they're trying to make me look like I'm crazy! Just because I
don't want to get high on marijuana. Just because I want
others to have the option of a completely sober life.
She could see that marijuana had the potential to be her
gateway to an old age of doom. On that day, she had a
spiritual awakening. Hester made a vow to herself that from
now on she would be cognizant of each and every red light.
(Written 01/06/03 - Revised 12/01/03)
Until we meet
again....... .......stay sane.
|
