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In a conversation with the parents of one of my roommates, in the autumn of 1967, when I was eighteen years old and a freshman at a little Lutheran college in Oakland, California, somehow the subject of marijuana came up, and I remember my confidently announcing, “In five years’ time, pot will be legal everywhere. That’s where things are headed.” Ha, ha! Turns out I might have miscalculated.
Time and again, though, year by year, I have smiled at what seemed to be news of progress. When President Biden announced last week that he was granting a general pardon to persons convicted of the federal crime of simple marijuana possession, I smiled once more. And I whispered again, as I generally do when presented with good news, “Oh, wow! Far out, man!”
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