More on Cousin Jim. I've posted about him on D.U. Now, on the anniversary of his passing -

[3Hotdogs]

He was a smaller scale version of Hunter S. Thompson, whom he read and admired.

This story is about roughly, 1972. As I posted several times, Jim was addicted to marijuana... several joints per day at a cost of a few hundred $ per month. It also cost him his life as the years of smoking joints clogged his lungs with tar to the point that at the end, he ran out of breath, walking across his living room.

But not to diverge -

1972, he was full into weed. It was also the year he graduated from college and moved back into his room at his mother's house with her and his younger brother. After moving in, one of the first things he did was to plant several marijuana plants in my Aunt Mae's garden, among whatever other plants she had growing.

They grew tall.

The garden was also next to the walkway from her driveway to the back entrance to her house that was the common entrance to her domicile. It was impossible for anyone waking on the walkway to avoid seeing them but any of Auntie's friends and relatives who saw them were not likely to know what they were.... just a couple of weeds that she was probably going to pull up when she got around to it. No one was likely to know what they were.

Except Uncle Frank. Uncle Frank, who I also wrote about, served proudly in the U.S. Army. In 1972, he was a Lt. Colonel and had finished his last tour of duty in Viet Nam. He was making visits to his relatives in N.J. before retiring to Ft. Hood in Texas.

So, he's walking down the driveway and onto the walkway when he spots the weed.

The Colonel: "Mae, what's these you got growing here?"

Aunt Mae: "Oh, they're Jimmy's Himalayan Ferns. He says they are delicate and not to touch them."

The Colonel: Sarcastically, " Himalayan Ferns, eh?"

The Colonel had the decency not to go any further with it and when he asked what I knew about it, I didn't know anything about 'em. "First time I've seen 'em. Don't know what they are."

Thanks, Uncle Frank and I hope they have good smoke wherever Jimmy is.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

1. What a generous and loving story about Cousin Jimmy, my dear 3Hotdogs . . .

I'll bet good money that Uncle Frank and Cousin Jimmy are indeed having a good smoke.