FROM POT TO PIGEONS, LIFE GOES ON

The cherry blossoms are no more and my tulips are now withering but
oh, the wisteria in the neighbour's yard. How do you like us now? The
only constant is change.

Let's review the merry month.

A column about the medical use of marijuana resulted in this from a
man who holds a senior position at a major addiction treatment centre
in Ontario:

"You need to get a perspective on addiction. The quickest way to get a
drug to the brain is to smoke it. Cannabis has been available in
capsule form for 15 years, but the addicted lobby (has) ensured a
smokable supply to feed (their) addiction. Don't be fooled by hearts
and flowers stories like the one you wrote. Get another
perspective."

How about this perspective from D.P.:

"I am an 18-year-old girl living in Toronto, I have had two severe
back operations. The last operation left me paralyzed from the ribs
down for about a month, and I had to go to a five-month rehab to learn
how to walk again ... I have severe back pain daily and nerve damage
in my legs. I'm trying to get on disability because with such pain I
cannot manage to work. I can hardly manage with school (sitting down
for long periods of time, carrying heavy books etc.). I smoke
marijuana for pain, and am trying to get a licence, but the doctors
would rather put me on highly addictive painkillers that do not help,
get my mind high, and do not allow me to function properly in society.
I hope my licence comes through soon ... wish me luck."

I do, D.P., I do.

This just in from Nigeria:

My friend Leo Agwu has just returned from the funeral of his mother,
Princess Victoria Ubulu Eze Agnes Chigbufue. Leo said he was required
to pay a traditional fine in order to bury her, not in the village
where she grew up, but in the village where she was born, as was her
wish. The fine? Leo said, "It was not much; one cow."

I noted that, in the memorial booklet produced for the funeral, there
was a message of condolence from Mayor Richard Daley of Chicago. In
response to the obvious question, Leo smiled. "My baby sister is a
district attorney in Chicago." And Boss Daley knows that, when it
comes to politics, the local is global, and vice versa.

Earlier this month I wrote a couple of columns from St. Jamestown. You
recall that fellow who had been keeping hundreds of pigeons in his
apartment, and you can imagine the resultant, roach-ridden, festering
mess.

Let's be clear about this: St. Jamestown is full of good people of all
ages, races, creeds and abilities, all of them just trying to get along.

And let's be clear about this: the Toronto Community Housing
Corporation is also full of good people, all of whom are trying to do
the best for their tenants.

Try harder, kids.

I got this note from a social worker who, for obvious reasons, will
remain anonymous:

"I work with a few tenants living in a TCHC seniors' building that is
infested with cockroaches and bedbugs. Despite numerous complaints by
tenants, TCHC has not been able to rectify the problem ... I'm sure
that part of the problem is underfunding of the TCHC. Still, somehow
nobody seems to care."

A single mother wrote to say that her TCHC building is also infested
with bedbugs, and she doesn't make much money, and she has to work two
jobs in order to raise her kids, and she cannot afford to keep
throwing out bedclothes and mattresses.

Is it that nobody cares, as the social worker put it? Or is it that we
don't care enough, or in the right way? Stay tuned.