Several years ago, my husband, Bill, and I were listening to Arlo Guthrie's Thanksgiving classic, "Alice's Restaurant." This song tells the story of a Thanksgiving celebration with hilarious and unforeseen consequences, including an arrest for littering and an impact on Mr. Guthrie's experience with the Vietnam War draft.
Bill and I have been listening to the song every year since we met nearly twenty years ago, but on Thanksgiving Day, 2004, I felt as though I was hearing part of it for the first time.
Earlier in the spring of that year, after dipping my toes into the waters of politics in Maryland, Bill and I decided to pack up and move our family to Oregon. Our primary reason for moving was so that I could take the medicine I need, cannabis, without breaking the law.
In Maryland, although I helped to pass a law that allowed an affirmative defense for the "crime" of taking a dose of marijuana, it was still a crime, and I still had to live with the threat of someone breaking down my door, pointing guns at my children, and hauling me off to jail, before I could have benefited from an affirmative defense.
Sometimes, when I was preparing sweet rolls before the sun came up, I wondered what I should do, were someone to break down our door just then. Should I grab the knife tighter and move to defend myself and my family from a burglar? Or should I drop the knife and raise my hands over my head, in case it was the police or the DEA conducting a raid?
There was one, single day when I felt truly safe in my own home back then. A storm had blanketed the entire northeast in a thick layer of ice, and all of the roads were closed. I knew for certain that no one — not even the DEA — would be able to drive on those roads, let alone break down my door that day.
From there, Oregon looked like Shangri-La! And in some ways, it has indeed been a dream come true. Each and every day I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to live in a state where I can take my medicine without breaking the law. However, each and every day I am also increasingly aware of the injustice that remains, even here.
The stated intent of the Oregon Medical Marijuana Act was to treat therapeutic cannabis like every other medicine, yet our system fails to treat marijuana like any other medicine. Anytime I feel a need, I could go to my doctor, obtain prescriptions for any combination of very dangerous and sometimes deadly drugs, pick them up at a pharmacy, drive myself home, consume these products "as needed," and no one other than my doctor, my pharmacist, and myself are ever supposed to know about it.
With the inarguably safer marijuana, however, just to avoid being arrested, I'm forced to register with the state like a sex offender. Furthermore, in a twisted bit of irony, I have to pay the state for the privilege of avoiding that arrest. I'd call that legalized extortion.
All of this and more was swirling around my mind as Bill and I listened to Alice's Restaurant on that Thanksgiving Day. As Arlo Guthrie began speaking about his experiences with the draft, and he reached the part where he was directed to "The Group W Bench," I turned down the volume, grabbed Bill's hand, and gasped, "Bill! That's exactly how I feel! Medical marijuana patients have been put on "The Group W Bench!"
Arlo Guthrie paints a vivid picture with his words, describing that experience:
"Group W's where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly looking people on the bench there. Mother rapers. Father stabbers. Father rapers! Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me! And they was mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys sitting on the bench next to me."
This is a perfect description of how it feels to be lumped with criminals for the "crime" of trying to feel better. (And we haven't even littered — just dared to take the medicine our doctors recommend.) Our federal laws put sick and dying patients right on the bench next to Bad Guys like the infamous Pablo Escobar.
Worse, instead of regulating our medicine, our government allows criminals to maintain a monopoly on the vast majority of the cannabis distribution in America. Where are the sick and dying supposed to turn for help when our government turns its back on us?
Not long after the 2000 election, I had my hopes dashed when President Bush broke his campaign promise to respect states' rights and to respect the medical marijuana laws in states that have them. I had always been taught that the President of the United States is supposed to be a man of his word.
I'm not sure how to react to President-elect Obama's similar statement about medical marijuana back on March 22nd in Medford's Mail Tribune: "I'm not going to be using Justice Department resources to try to circumvent state laws on this issue." Although I'm hesitant to get my hopes up too much again, that's an awfully clear promise, and I'm hoping our new President will show the courage and honor of standing by his words. If I could ask him only one thing, it would be simply that he keep his promise to us.
This Thanksgiving, as I listen to Alice's Restaurant once again, I'll still laugh about "The Group W Bench," but it's the darker, more cynical laugh of a chronically ill mother of five who doesn't deserve to be on the bench with the Bad Guys.
Still, I'll count my many blessings, hug Bill and our kids, and keep hope alive for a brighter and more compassionate tomorrow for all of us. And then, in the words of Arlo's contemporaries, The Who, "I'll get on my knees and pray we won't get fooled again!"
News Hawk- Ganjarden 420 MAGAZINE ® - Medical Marijuana Publication & Social Networking
Source: Salem-News.com
Author: Erin Hildebrandt
Contact: Salem-News.com
Copyright: 2008 Salem-News.com
Website: View from 'The Group W Bench'
Bill and I have been listening to the song every year since we met nearly twenty years ago, but on Thanksgiving Day, 2004, I felt as though I was hearing part of it for the first time.
Earlier in the spring of that year, after dipping my toes into the waters of politics in Maryland, Bill and I decided to pack up and move our family to Oregon. Our primary reason for moving was so that I could take the medicine I need, cannabis, without breaking the law.
In Maryland, although I helped to pass a law that allowed an affirmative defense for the "crime" of taking a dose of marijuana, it was still a crime, and I still had to live with the threat of someone breaking down my door, pointing guns at my children, and hauling me off to jail, before I could have benefited from an affirmative defense.
Sometimes, when I was preparing sweet rolls before the sun came up, I wondered what I should do, were someone to break down our door just then. Should I grab the knife tighter and move to defend myself and my family from a burglar? Or should I drop the knife and raise my hands over my head, in case it was the police or the DEA conducting a raid?
There was one, single day when I felt truly safe in my own home back then. A storm had blanketed the entire northeast in a thick layer of ice, and all of the roads were closed. I knew for certain that no one — not even the DEA — would be able to drive on those roads, let alone break down my door that day.
From there, Oregon looked like Shangri-La! And in some ways, it has indeed been a dream come true. Each and every day I am profoundly grateful for the opportunity to live in a state where I can take my medicine without breaking the law. However, each and every day I am also increasingly aware of the injustice that remains, even here.
The stated intent of the Oregon Medical Marijuana Act was to treat therapeutic cannabis like every other medicine, yet our system fails to treat marijuana like any other medicine. Anytime I feel a need, I could go to my doctor, obtain prescriptions for any combination of very dangerous and sometimes deadly drugs, pick them up at a pharmacy, drive myself home, consume these products "as needed," and no one other than my doctor, my pharmacist, and myself are ever supposed to know about it.
With the inarguably safer marijuana, however, just to avoid being arrested, I'm forced to register with the state like a sex offender. Furthermore, in a twisted bit of irony, I have to pay the state for the privilege of avoiding that arrest. I'd call that legalized extortion.
All of this and more was swirling around my mind as Bill and I listened to Alice's Restaurant on that Thanksgiving Day. As Arlo Guthrie began speaking about his experiences with the draft, and he reached the part where he was directed to "The Group W Bench," I turned down the volume, grabbed Bill's hand, and gasped, "Bill! That's exactly how I feel! Medical marijuana patients have been put on "The Group W Bench!"
Arlo Guthrie paints a vivid picture with his words, describing that experience:
"Group W's where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly looking people on the bench there. Mother rapers. Father stabbers. Father rapers! Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me! And they was mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys sitting on the bench next to me."
This is a perfect description of how it feels to be lumped with criminals for the "crime" of trying to feel better. (And we haven't even littered — just dared to take the medicine our doctors recommend.) Our federal laws put sick and dying patients right on the bench next to Bad Guys like the infamous Pablo Escobar.
Worse, instead of regulating our medicine, our government allows criminals to maintain a monopoly on the vast majority of the cannabis distribution in America. Where are the sick and dying supposed to turn for help when our government turns its back on us?
Not long after the 2000 election, I had my hopes dashed when President Bush broke his campaign promise to respect states' rights and to respect the medical marijuana laws in states that have them. I had always been taught that the President of the United States is supposed to be a man of his word.
I'm not sure how to react to President-elect Obama's similar statement about medical marijuana back on March 22nd in Medford's Mail Tribune: "I'm not going to be using Justice Department resources to try to circumvent state laws on this issue." Although I'm hesitant to get my hopes up too much again, that's an awfully clear promise, and I'm hoping our new President will show the courage and honor of standing by his words. If I could ask him only one thing, it would be simply that he keep his promise to us.
This Thanksgiving, as I listen to Alice's Restaurant once again, I'll still laugh about "The Group W Bench," but it's the darker, more cynical laugh of a chronically ill mother of five who doesn't deserve to be on the bench with the Bad Guys.
Still, I'll count my many blessings, hug Bill and our kids, and keep hope alive for a brighter and more compassionate tomorrow for all of us. And then, in the words of Arlo's contemporaries, The Who, "I'll get on my knees and pray we won't get fooled again!"
News Hawk- Ganjarden 420 MAGAZINE ® - Medical Marijuana Publication & Social Networking
Source: Salem-News.com
Author: Erin Hildebrandt
Contact: Salem-News.com
Copyright: 2008 Salem-News.com
Website: View from 'The Group W Bench'
i feel ya it aint right how were treated as criminals because we choose to smoke marijuana whether it be for medicinal reasons or recreational reasons 
