Back when we were all in school together, my pals and I called ourselves the Greenfield Crew.
No, the name of our town is not Greenfield, that was an inside joke based on how we made extra money.
I had a pretty rough upbringing, going through a series of foster homes and group homes after leaving the orphanage. These pals were legitimately the closest thing to a family I ever had. We had access to a lush field of wild cannabis plants, which is where we got the name Greenfield – because it was a “green field” get it? I took the lead on turning the wild-growing cannabis plants into a steady form of revenue, one that the crew all shared equally. I put in most of the work by actually selling the cannabis and collecting the money, but everyone got an equal share because that’s how important my friends were to me. It wasn’t about getting rich, and it wasn’t about being big-short marijuana dealers, it was just about poor kids getting some extra cash to spend on themselves. The Greenfield Crew always wore nice clothes and flashy shoes, but mostly we just hung out together smoking cannabis and telling jokes. It has been twenty years since those days, and I am still a big fan of smoking cannabis. I don’t have to hustle for marijuana any more, nor do I have to hike through the woods to pick my own, because the local dispensary takes care of all my needs. Not a day goes by when I don’t think back to smoking cannabis with the Greenfield Crew.