The Slice: Hey bud, this ‘Mr. Green’ is dope
It’s time to crack the marijuana code.
“I’d love to know what euphemisms other people have used for acquiring a bag of weed during the last 40 years that we have had to operate on the sly,” wrote Sandy Tarbox.
She remembers one friend who spoke of picking up a couple new “albums.”
Another referred to having a meeting with “Mr. Green.”
Life as an afterthought: A reader who asked that I not print her name had a question.
When people say that they have not called because they have been so busy, does that tell you all you need to know about where you stand as a priority?
If you had a charitable foundation: Lorrie McLaughlin would see to it that everyone under 18 could swim free at public pools in Spokane.
Then there was this from Michaél Elaine Alegria. “I’m actually looking into starting a scholarship fund in memory of my nephew, Mitchell, who tragically drowned July 6. He was to go to Camp Reed July 14 but instead we buried him the day before,” she wrote.
“I plan to have a charitable organization to send a 14-year-old boy to Camp Reed each year in honor or my nephew who felt so at home there and looked forward to it every year.”
Slice answer: “I was sent to the principal’s office once,” wrote Jim McCall, who grew up in Seattle. “I was in kindergarten in ’50-’51 at a school above the north end of Boeing Field.”
One day during recess, young Jim heard the loudest roar he had ever encountered. He knew where it was coming from. But there was a problem.
His only chance to get a look at what was creating that man-made thunder involved crossing a muddy field that the kids had been strictly ordered to avoid. But sometimes a little boy has to do what a little boy has to do.
“I ran for the fence overlooking the field.”
The adults overseeing recess all but aimed a spotlight and released the hounds. “Never made it but sure got muddy.”
McCall still wonders about that roar. Had he heard a test of an early B-52 engine? Was it a rocket thruster?
“Maybe somebody can tell me someday.”
Today’s Slice question: Ever hear snoring from another campsite?
Write The Slice at P.O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210; call (509) 459-5470; email firstname.lastname@example.org. Please don’t say “methinks.”