The Lucky Ones

JCD with Kristi Willsey Sutton -- my best friend since we were 7 years old

So tonight is the night I set the clocks forward an hour for Daylight Saving Time. 

Changing my clocks has me thinking about the concept of time, dates and such – something I never do.

As we move well into 2011, I’m preparing to cross some milestones in my life, as well as a few from history.  I’ve never really understood why dates hold such relevance in my memory. 

Well, one of those dates was yesterday – Saturday 12 March 2011.  Twenty-five years ago yesterday is just one of those days stamped in my warped memory.  Nah, it wasn’t the day I got deflowered, nor did I get my driver’s license. 

As I recall, it was a pretty average day for me as a sophomore at Center Grove High School.  At least, as normal as circumstances would allow at that point.  My condition, which I was still being told was TMJ would not be properly diagnosed for another five weeks.  So, in early March, keeping pain at arms length for more than an hour, if at all, was rare. 

Like so many of my significant memories, the friend I was with that day was Kristi Willsey Sutton.  Kris is my oldest friend in the world – we’ve known one another since December 1976 – and she has been a pillar with me through so many of my days of pain and uncertainty.  And it should come as no surprise that she was also usually there through any days of mischief … or perhaps days of “discovery” sounds less menacing.  I might as well put a better PR spin on it.  It’s been 25 years, after all. 

After school, I left with Kristi and four of her friends – all good broads who had always run around together.  The destination was Market Square Arena and the purpose was a concert.  Which concert, you wonder.  Well, keep in mind it was the 1980s and we were dyed-in-the-wool kids of the ‘80s.  I’m guessing a few, if not all of the broads in the harem I was traveling with were sporting mall hair, held in place by 1.5 gallons each of Final Net.  So, we were off to see the 80s quintessential band Loverboy and opening for them were The Hooters. 

After stopping at McDonald’s to get something to eat, several of the young ladies in the car were compelled to light cigarettes, which I found repulsive.  So I just tended to my cheeseburger and fries and listened to the amusing conversation of these five 16- and 17-year-old ladies as we headed for downtown Indianapolis. 

The girl on one side of me tapped my knee and said “sit back for just a second, Jimmy.”  I did so and continued to listen as she passed her cigarette to the girl on the other side of me.  “Do you want some of this, Jimmy?” asked the girl as she passed it back.  “Um, no.  Cigarettes repulse me.”  They giggled.  “Just wait a few minutes, honey,” uttered one of them. 

Perhaps five or ten minutes later, we were stopped at a light and I was looking out the window and I began to laugh hysterically for apparently no reason.  The girls began laughing and one exclaimed “I knew it would get to him.” 

What would? I thought to myself.

Yes, I was stoned.  This was a new experience for me, and by the time we got to the concert, I had no headache.  I think that bears repeating.  I had no headache. 

It was a great night and a great concert and I continued without my usual headache for perhaps 6-8 hours.  That was the only eight hour period I didn’t have a headache in months. 

Anyone who says he or she does not believe in medical marijuana has never had cancer or another disease which causes great pain. 

This never became something I did often, but on a few occasions when the pain was bad, it did help when nothing else could. 

If while you read this you nodded and perhaps grinned ever so faintly, you probably understand that growing up involves discovery.  If you found yourself gasping and shaking your head in disbelief, you might be considered a little naive. 

But if you shook your head in disapproval and uttered something like “I can’t believe you did that!” …well, chances are, you did too.  Or at least did something in youth that you might now consider unsavory. 

So, just put down those stones of judgment, step off the self-righteous, sanctimonious soapbox and then back away slowly.  It then might behoove you to take the energy you might use judging others and put it toward working a day in a soup kitchen or hospital or otherwise direct said energy to doing something that makes you feel good about what you do or who you are rather than what someone else is or who they are. 

And when you’ve done that, you might also want to smoke some weed. 

Just an observation…

…And so it goes…
Peace be with you,
JCD

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63 Responses to “The Lucky Ones”

  1. Walter Aldorisio says:

    In the words of John and Paul, expressed so well by Joe Cocker, “I get by with a little help from my friends…”

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    You wrote it just as you told it!!!

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