Dear Ms. Pot,
The other weekend, I was visiting my parents at our family cabin on Martha’s Vineyard. One night, after a big lobster feast, it was just my dad and I, hanging out on the porch. I’ve always known he kept a stash of pot hidden inside the little ceramic sailboat on the steps (much to the delight of my friends and I) though he never knew I knew. But, well, now he does… because we smoked it together. And I’ll be honest: it was awkward. You probably shouldn’t smoke pot with your parents, huh?
Thanks for your thoughts!
Baked in Boston
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Dear BIB,
First of all, do you really think your dad didn’t know that you knew he keeps “a little pot” on the porch of his place on Martha’s Vineyard? Especially if you’ve been raiding it all these years! Dads who smoke pot aren’t dumb–just maybe a little slllooooowww. Regardless, sounds like you two never spoke about your shared pastime— and now, for some reason, you decided to get stoned together.
I mean, it’s not the ideal father-daughter activity. Sailing, swimming, cooking lobsters… that’s typically what parents and kids do together on the islands off Massachusetts.
However, as legality looms, I think that as long as you’re old enough to drink a beer with your dad, you are old enough to light up with your dad.
That said, it begs the question, which you’ve pretty much already answered: Is it fun to smoke pot with your parents? Do they make you laugh? Or are they sort of bummers? Depends on your relationship, of course. (And if your family is the type who guzzles G&Ts together before sunset anyway, maybe adding marijuana to the mix isn’t such a stretch?)
Will you and your father burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter over that time you were five and threw up on the ferry?
Still, consider the consequences: Will you and your father burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter over that time you were five and threw up on the ferry and it whipped back in the wind and onto the face of the stranger sitting next you? (Wait, that happened to you, too?)
Or will you get super paranoid that your father thinks you’re a failure because you live in a one-bedroom apartment on Beacon Hill that he still has to pay for? Or will you sit in silence staring up at the stars, sharing a sort of sweet moment together until your mom comes out and asks you to empty the dishwasher?
Traditionally, smoking pot has been something you do when you’re decidedly not with your parents. It’s great that you’ve always got a stash to smoke on your summer porch (thanks Dad!). Still, maybe I’m too nostalgic, but I think that’s what friends—not fathers— are for.
Love,
Ms. Pot
