'HIGH' ROAD IS FULL OF POT HOLES

The first time I talked to Josh Berner (two years ago this month) he gave
me his favorite recipe for eggnog. First, you pour some of the store-bought
variety into a blender. Then add in a banana, a little honey and two
heaping tablespoons of marijuana.

Mix to a froth. Add nutmeg.

"That's still one of my favorites," Josh told me Monday. "Wish I could whip
some up right now."

But he can't.

"The last time I had some pot was a week or 10 days ago," he said. "I'm
having a little trouble finding some right now. But I will, hopefully.
Otherwise, I won't be able to eat at all. I'll be finished. I won't let
that happen. I won't let the bastards win -- pardon my French."

No need.

I figure a guy in his 50s can speak any language he wants when he has
throat cancer and is experiencing constant nausea from the disease and the
radiation treatments. Particularly when he lives in a state that already
has passed a referendum permitting the medical use of marijuana -- twice.

"Without an implementation plan to go along with the proposition, the
situation of people like me hasn't changed a bit since we passed the first
proposition back in '96," Josh said. "So, that's my job now. To get it
implemented."

Needs a prescription

The new law says a person in Josh's position needs to have a prescription
for marijuana from two doctors. That's not likely to happen.

According to Andrea Smiley of the Arizona Medical Association, most doctors
are afraid they'll be busted by federal authorities for prescribing an
illegal drug.

Not only that, but there's no pharmacy where a guy like Josh can go.

"I tell you where that leaves me," Josh said. "Picture me walking through
the desert on a local Indian reservation, handing money through barbed wire
fence and having a bag of pot passed back to me. Why? Because there's an
80-year-old World War II veteran who called me to help him, because
marijuana is the only thing that keeps him from getting sick from
chemotherapy. That's not right. I can't let that happen."

That's why Josh is now working with activists in other states that have
passed laws similar to Arizona's Proposition 300. He wants to create a
national implementation plan.

"The only thing that keeps this from happening is superstition, ignorance
and arrogance," Josh said. "That's the basis for all of this. We're not
talking about the complete legalization of all drugs. We're talking about
medical use. All we can do is hammer away at the negative attitude that
exists out there. Someone like me can help. I'm not intimidated. I just
don't feel too good."

Change is difficult

Josh believes that if enough states get together and demand a change, the
federal government will come around. It won't be easy.

The first time Arizona passed the referendum, Sen. Jon Kyl said, "I must
tell you I am extraordinarily embarrassed" by Arizona's vote. Kyl had
nothing but disdain for what he called "pothead doctors" who might help
someone like Josh.

"When you take a position like mine, people are going to attack you," Josh
said. "But I don't worry about it. A long time ago my dad told me, 'If they
try to run you out of town, get out in front and make it look like a
parade.' "

That's not easy when you're weak and sick and all you want for Christmas is
a few plump joints.

A few days ago, a friend brought Josh the nub of a marijuana cigarette, a
"roach," and after a few puffs he felt good enough to eat a little.

"You live day to day and fight day to day," he said, "and you try to keep
your dignity and your sense of humor and your sense of determination."

His resolve was shaken a couple of days ago, however, when the temperature
dropped and there was snow in Phoenix.

"I thought, 'Oh, no, I'm a goner,' " he said, laughing. "I had told all my
friends I was going to fight this damn thing until hell freezes over."

E.J. Montini can be reached at ed.montini@pni.com via e-mail.

Checked-by: derek rea