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Letters – 8/4
Confessions of a ‘Grower’
It wasn’t supposed to happen to me. I mean, c’mon! I was a good guy, came from the right sort of background - and I was going places. How did I end up like this?
It all started when my young family and I moved back to Quincy. I met some people who were ‘using’, and against my better judgment, I indulged. And got hooked.
Next came the frequent trips to the coast to get ‘hooked up’. I even got my family started. Yeah. I’m a loser.
Over time, however, the cost and length of the trips to the coast started to bother me. I needed a source that was close, convenient and inexpensive. Finally it donned on me: I’d grow my own!
So it happened that on a moonlit night about six years ago, I smuggled in some starter plants. Now, most people would have planted them in the middle of a cornfield, but I didn’t have corn. Or in the basement, but mine was full of outgrown clothes and cereal boxes.
I decided to plant them in plain sight. What better way to hide something than to put it right were it would least be expected: in the middle of my garden!
For six glorious years, my wife, my kids, and I indulged in the heavenly euphoria of my crop. But it couldn’t last. I knew in my heart that it was too good to be true. So when the first menacing phone call came last summer, I thought I was a goner. They were coming!
After prepping my wife, I went on the lam. The official showed up, stern and harsh in his bright government vehicle. It was all over.
But we dodged a bullet! My wife did just what she was supposed to - she claimed ignorance of the dangerous nature of the plants, pleaded her innocence, and finally convinced the official that she was no criminal. He left.
It was only a brief respite. Late last night, I stared in ghastly silence as my answering machine played the death knell to our little enterprise: not only is the government coming for us again, but this time they are going to tear out our operation once and for all, and levy us with a hefty fine.
And so here I am, awaiting the arrival of the ‘weed’ district officials. As I clutch my wife and children for what may be the last time for many years, I reflect on the slippery slope that has led me here, and on my unholy penchant for blackberries.
Blackberries! If only I had known how addictive they were! How delicious! And yet so destructive to society that even during this recession, they warrant hundreds of thousands of our local tax dollars to pay officials to scour the countryside for blackberry growers like myself.
Please, don’t make my same mistake! Save your family, your children, your community the heartache that comes from growing blackberries in your garden!
— Matt Roylance
Feds busting Soap Lake mother
I am curious how much money “my money” was spent on this big “BUST”? You know, in these hard economic times you would think the Feds would be a little more reserved on their spending.
I’m wrong - good God - those guys are worried about their jobs, too!
I am serious though. How much of the taxpayers money went to “bust” this grandmother? I really want to know.
And how much was spent on the Spokane dispensaries?
With all the stuff that is happening.... this is Stupid!
— Carla Wilson
