I want to say no, but Uncle John was there where you wanted to him to be and no one else was. I was twelve years old and he was on his own trip. Uncle John grew his own marijuana, and his parents took it as something he was willing to do.

In fact, when my grandmother brought a tree doctor to save a diseased immense oak on the property,  the tree doctor said, “Mrs. Curran, there is marijuana growing on this property,” and she was smart enough to play dumb and call it umbrella plant. There was no marijuana here. Her concern was to save the greeat oak, and so was the tree doctor at that time. And that was as far as it went, there was no marijuana there.

I will defend Uncle John in his horticulture to the death, despite his shallow marijuana growth as something serious. It was never serious, and this growth was twenty years ago anyway. It is a boring point, but I remember the good times with my particular relatives.

For instance, I remember taking a trip many years ago with Uncle John–a trip I took a trip with him on a raft with paddles through the Newport, RI anchored rich harbor, but we didn’t give a damn. We–me and Uncle John–made it through the Newport harbor to Felix de Weldon’s pier. We got to Felix de Weldon’s pier and we dived and jumped. And jumped again. It was green water, deep for good diving is my memory.

Galveston, TX and Newport, RI have much in common. Two islands with huge tourism and history that locals think you outsiders better not f**k with.

In song I like the Del Fuegos “I Still Want You.”

I like this tune too.