Letter 12

By a nose

Dear Reader,

There comes a time in every city mom’s life when you are driving along with the windows rolled down and a waft of something overwhelming comes into the car, interrupting a June Cleaver moment re-emphasizing the etiquette of “no, thank you” for declining an offer. There’s no ignoring the pungent deluge.

“What is that smell?” the kids gag, holding their noses. 

“Is that a skunk?” one of them asks. And since we are in south Kansas City, and not my hometown in rural Missouri, it is decidedly not a skunk.

Do I? I think. What the hell, I shrug. And I go for it.

“Oh, that’s just marijuana. Someone must be smoking it in one of the cars around us,” I say matter-of-factly as if I was just commenting on a rain cloud up ahead. “Some people call it weed. There are other names for it too.”

This was a few years back. Since then the kids just call it out whenever the smell comes our way. They beat me to the punch, in fact. 

“I smell marijuana,” a voice pipes up. “I think someone is smoking weed,” another will exclaim.

One time we were running along a trail next to a major road in our neighborhood when we stumbled upon the smelly breeze. “Nothing like running along Wornall,” I say. Jack was up ahead of me, of course, and without missing a beat said, “well, there’s only going to be more of it now that it’s legal."

This is life in the city at this point in history. And, really, it’s one of the things that a majority of Americans – even here in Missouri – can agree on. At least, in that it should be legal, and that people should have the option of buying it, smoking it, swallowing it in a chewy gummy form and all kinds of other creative ways.

It’s not my thing but I accept it into our collective social fabric along with The Summer of The Taylor Swift Concert and blowing stuff up on the Fourth of July. Because for one day (tomorrow, and a handful before and after the holiday) happiness is 75 percent potassium nitrate, 15 percent charcoal and 10 percent sulfur. Now, there is another strong smell to behold.

I  plan to hold out a sparkler in caution and sip one adult beverage over the course of a few hours (then likely pour out the last half when it gets warm) and toast to the things that unite us on this Independence Day: Yeti travel mugs. Gunpowder. Weed. 

God Bless America.

Warmly,

Traci