My Arborist wife and I were
in Portland for an International Society of Arboriculture conference at the
convention center, and stayed at a nearby hotel. I was free to wander during the day, so I
would walk down to the train stop and explore the city.
On this particular morning as
I was strolling down a deserted sidewalk past a square block parking lot, I
noticed what could only be a doobie laying on the concrete. I picked it up. The weather had been dry, and it was in
perfect condition. The rolling paper
appeared to be Zig-Zag white, and it was obvious by the lumpy surface that
inside was some pretty good bud. I
smiled at my good fortune and slipped it into my pocket.
Later, though, I got to
thinking. Did I really want to smoke
this unknown thing? What if it was
soaked in PCP, or embalming fluid or something?
It’s not like I needed it for anything.
So, as I was returning by the same route, I flagged down a young man who
was riding a BMX style bicycle down the sidewalk toward me. As he came to a stop, I saw he was one of
those arrested development, twenty-something sidewalk commando types, with a
surfer tan and baggy shorts under a baseball cap, just what I needed. I held out the doobie and said, “I found this
on the sidewalk right over there,” pointing, “and wondered if you might help me
return it to its rightful owner?” A
smile spread over his face, as he took the doobie and placed it on top of his
head under his cap with a motion like one of those shell game shysters at the
carnival. “God Bless You”, he said
fervently, and pedaled off into a day suddenly made just a little bit
brighter. Thusly is karma, or grace, or
whatever you want to call it, earned.
:-{)}
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