Richard Rotman

I remember the time and place I smoked my first joint: the summer of 1966, when I was 15. The Yardbirds’ “Over Under Sideways Down” on the radio. A Glencoe friend had moved to the city and said if I came down to the North Side, I could try what was then called Pot.

We lit up and after I coughed profusely, I felt something, not sure what. In those days, it wasn’t very good, had seeds (meaning its potency had been reduced due to fertilization) (or was oregano) and unlike today had neither a strain name (White Widow, etc.) or a type: Sativa, Indica. It had to be hand rolled and consumed carefully, hidden from parents and the police. There were dozens of places around Glencoe and New Trier High School where we indulged, all giddy and laughing and silly. Now there are dispensaries in Evanston, Northbrook and Highland Park, selling much more powerful weed. Is Glencoe next?

When Illinois legalized it, Gov. J.B. Pritzker pardoned more than 11,000 people; there was a terrible and unjust downside. In Canada, where I live, it is on sale everywhere.

My reason for using it today with a vape is exclusively for romantic purposes. There are wonderful, sense-enhancing strains for that: Strawberry Cough, Blueberry Cheesecake, Lemon Sour Diesel and several others. I never thought it would be legal in my lifetime,

but 50 years later, it is part of a growing movement that will result in in federal cannabis legalization. All of the dire predictions of what would happen if cannabis was permitted never came to pass. I believe it is a positive force, adding to the enjoyment of life. I am proud to have been a Pothead.