In 1968, a few joints I gave away left me facing the possibility of decades in prison. More than half a century later, I walked into a legal dispensary and paid for cannabis at the counter.
My attorney peered at me from behind his imposing oak desk that night in January 1968 and told me what I faced: one felony charge that carried a maximum sentence of 10 years in prison and four that could each earn me another 15 years behind bars.
I didn’t know much about the law, but I knew enough math to be terrified. Four times 15 equals 60, plus 10 is 70. I was 19 at the time, so I figured I might get out of prison at age 89.
An Unexpected Visit
Stretched out on my bed in my mother’s house one night about five months earlier, I was pondering options for my first semester at Suffolk County Community College on Long Island, New York, that fall. Should I take the courses that sounded like fun or the ones that my guidance counselor advised would be most helpful in getting me accepted into a four-year school? I was still vacillating when the phone rang.
When I picked up the receiver and said hello, I heard, “Hey, Jeff, it’s Noel!”
I recognized the name and voice of one of the most high-profile kids in my high school class.
“Sorry I’ve kind of been out of touch,” he said. “A lot going on.”
“Been out of touch”? I thought. We’d never really been in touch. We’d had a few quick conversations, and he’d written a couple of witty lines in my yearbook before graduation, but we weren’t friends and had never even seen each other outside of school.
“I’m in the neighborhood with a couple of guys,” …
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Author: Jeff Burger / High Times
