Letter to the Editor: Medical marijuana
While handing out invitations to an educational medical marijuana town hall meeting in Monett, I ran into a (1979) classmate of mine from Purdy High School. He dismissively pushed my invitation back to me, and asked in disbelief, “Are you promoting that?”
Because I’ve known and respected him for years, I wasn’t offended, but I did wonder why he was so surprised. After thinking about it, though, I understood. He and I both grew up in conservative homes during the raucous 60s and 70s, in a rural community where most people went to church. We “good kids” didn’t drink, smoke, nor have premarital sex (at least not reputedly so). Above all, we didn’t smoke marijuana, that “evil weed” we were all hyper-aware of due to propaganda films and the media’s broadcast of love-ins and war protests taking place across the country - events where long-haired, pot-smoking hippies seemed to be taking over the United States.
No matter that those war protestors ultimately accomplished something beneficial, marijuana was left with a bad reputation, one that I readily accepted and clung to for the next 40 years. Until I met Paula Roberts five years ago, that is.
Paula traveled from Seattle to Springfield by Greyhound, then rented a car and drove to Barry County. She was an intelligent, responsible young woman who stayed in my home for the few days it took to put her uncle’s business affairs in order before his demise. As she prepared to catch the bus back to Seattle, on a whim - since I knew that medical marijuana was legal in Washington - I asked for her opinion of it. My paradigms about marijuana were shattered by what she then told me.
She was a patient, a user of medical cannabis (a.k.a. “marijuana”). Injured almost terminally as a teenager in a car accident which fractured her spine, she walked upright by the grace of God, with the assistance of two steel rods implanted permanently in her back. She lived with chronic pain, alleviated only by the use of a topical ointment made from the distilled oil of cannabis buds. Her story was powerful, her testimony credible, and its impact indelible. Since then, I’ve heard from numerous people with stories similar to Paula’s, people who have no reason to lie about the beneficial effects of cannabis, with medical research now backing them up.
Marijuana, put under lock and key by the federal government with its creation of the Drug Enforcement Agency in the early 1970s, has now been proven to have therapeutic value for those desperately ill with neurological issues, including children.
I’ll be the first to admit it when I’m wrong. In this case, I have been. A long-held belief doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s true. Nor does a law that’s currently in effect mean that it’s a good law. To deny the medicinal benefits of marijuana to sick people - for the sake of preserving my religious and legal traditions - is, I now realize, the opposite of the love for our fellow humans that Jesus advocated.
That’s the reason I’m promoting and voting “yes” for legalized medical marijuana in Missouri on November 6th: specifically, yes for Amendment 2, and no on Amendment 3 and no Proposition C. It’s the compassionate thing to do.
-Sheila Harris, Purdy
Because I’ve known and respected him for years, I wasn’t offended, but I did wonder why he was so surprised. After thinking about it, though, I understood. He and I both grew up in conservative homes during the raucous 60s and 70s, in a rural community where most people went to church. We “good kids” didn’t drink, smoke, nor have premarital sex (at least not reputedly so). Above all, we didn’t smoke marijuana, that “evil weed” we were all hyper-aware of due to propaganda films and the media’s broadcast of love-ins and war protests taking place across the country - events where long-haired, pot-smoking hippies seemed to be taking over the United States.
No matter that those war protestors ultimately accomplished something beneficial, marijuana was left with a bad reputation, one that I readily accepted and clung to for the next 40 years. Until I met Paula Roberts five years ago, that is.
Paula traveled from Seattle to Springfield by Greyhound, then rented a car and drove to Barry County. She was an intelligent, responsible young woman who stayed in my home for the few days it took to put her uncle’s business affairs in order before his demise. As she prepared to catch the bus back to Seattle, on a whim - since I knew that medical marijuana was legal in Washington - I asked for her opinion of it. My paradigms about marijuana were shattered by what she then told me.
She was a patient, a user of medical cannabis (a.k.a. “marijuana”). Injured almost terminally as a teenager in a car accident which fractured her spine, she walked upright by the grace of God, with the assistance of two steel rods implanted permanently in her back. She lived with chronic pain, alleviated only by the use of a topical ointment made from the distilled oil of cannabis buds. Her story was powerful, her testimony credible, and its impact indelible. Since then, I’ve heard from numerous people with stories similar to Paula’s, people who have no reason to lie about the beneficial effects of cannabis, with medical research now backing them up.
Marijuana, put under lock and key by the federal government with its creation of the Drug Enforcement Agency in the early 1970s, has now been proven to have therapeutic value for those desperately ill with neurological issues, including children.
I’ll be the first to admit it when I’m wrong. In this case, I have been. A long-held belief doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s true. Nor does a law that’s currently in effect mean that it’s a good law. To deny the medicinal benefits of marijuana to sick people - for the sake of preserving my religious and legal traditions - is, I now realize, the opposite of the love for our fellow humans that Jesus advocated.
That’s the reason I’m promoting and voting “yes” for legalized medical marijuana in Missouri on November 6th: specifically, yes for Amendment 2, and no on Amendment 3 and no Proposition C. It’s the compassionate thing to do.
-Sheila Harris, Purdy
Disclaimer:
The editor of the Barry County Advertiser reserves the right to edit or withhold from publication any letter for any reason whatsoever. Letters to the Editor reflect the opinion of the author, not necessarily that of the Barry County Advertiser or its staff. Email your letters to editor@4bca.com
The editor of the Barry County Advertiser reserves the right to edit or withhold from publication any letter for any reason whatsoever. Letters to the Editor reflect the opinion of the author, not necessarily that of the Barry County Advertiser or its staff. Email your letters to editor@4bca.com