While my sister and my brother-in-law James had been living together at the Logan Street House, my sister had told me that when she wasn't home during the day, she left the door to the House unlocked. So, one afternoon, I decided to visit the House even though I knew no one would be there. When I arrived at the House, I walked up to the side door, which was standing wide open, and walked inside. I thought James probably had some marijuana hidden somewhere in the House, and I wondered if I could find it.

I walked into the front bedroom, wondering where James would hide his marijuana. I didn't have to look long, because lying on the seat of a hard back chair was a plastic baggie about a quarter full of dark green marijuana. I picked it up and looked at it.

I was debating whether I should smoke any. Since no one was in the House, I thought I could roll a large joint, smoke it and once again feel the effects of marijuana. But I had serious reservations about smoking. I thought I hadn't smoked any marijuana for 22 months, which seemed like a rather long time. On one hand, it seemed as if I had obviously overcome the marijuana habit and as if smoking again wouldn't hurt anything; on the other hand, it seemed as if I needed to totally abstain from marijuana and as if by smoking even one joint I would destroy my abstinence and I would once again have to begin the struggle with marijuana. That was an unpleasant thought.

Still trying to decide, I walked out unto the front porch where I encountered three people standing on the sidewalk. One was my old Portsmouth friend Anderson (probably in his early 30s). One of the others was the mailman (although he was dressed in a suit and tie instead of a mailman's suit). He was bald and looked as if he might have been around 50 years old. The third person was also a man.

I explained my dilemma concerning the marijuana to the men. Anderson couldn't see why I had any problem. He seemed to think smoking marijuana would be perfectly all right and he didn't understand why I was hesitating. Although his attitude that smoking would be all right reassured me, I still hesitated.

The mailman didn't say anything at first, and it seemed as if he felt reluctant to mix in because he didn't know me. But finally he spoke and pointed out that I had abstained from marijuana for a very long time. Not smoking for 22 months hadn't been easy. If I were to smoke now, I would have to begin counting all over again, even if I only smoked one joint. Did I really want to do that?

His words were very persuasive. I saw much more clearly how foolish it would be for me to smoke the marijuana and I was grateful for his having spoken to me.

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