Getting high

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WARNING: There are some things a mother just doesn’t need to know. Continue at your own risk.

I was talking with some friends from work a few days ago about our different teenage antics. At some point, the topic turned to substance abuse and “getting high.”

Both of them, from very different areas of the country and separated by thirty years, had story after story of their indulgences. I didn’t have anything to join in with. My experimentation was extremely limited. In the 80′s when I was in high school, drugs were everywhere. I even remember seeing people do lines of cocaine at the skating rink. I don’t know if we were too scared or too poor, but my friends and I just did not make these lifestyle choices.

We did our fair share of other stupid things, though. All of my group got married either in high school or just after graduation. We would score some liquor and have drunken campfires in the countryside. When we wanted to get high, we would grab some beers and climb the local grain eleVator. You can’t get much higher than a good beer buz five stories in the air.

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Getting high

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