JOURNEY FOR JUSTICE 7

‘The Journeys’ began in Ohio, in 1997 to bring public awareness to the medical value of Cannabis and the plight of the medical Cannabis patient, and, hopefully, convince lawmakers to ease the restrictions on this vitally important medicine. It was these Journeys that sparked Ken Locke’s interest in organizing a cross-country bike ride for cannabis awareness.

It was July 6th, 2006. Our trucks and trailers bearing medical Cannabis banners were nearing their journey’s end. We had been on the road for months since departing Charleston, South Carolina the previous April. Our cross-country bicycle run, “Journey for Justice 7”, had been one long and grueling trip. Truth be told, Kansas nearly killed us!

I was the onroad coordinator for the Journey and drove one of the support trucks, seeing to the needs of our cyclers as we made our way across the country. Though our exuberance had long since been spent amid the trials of so many long days on our nation’s roads, our purpose remained resolute. Largely due to the leadership of our event founder, organizer, and lead biker, Ken Locke of North Carolina was our lead biker and the founder and organizer for our trip.

KEN’S BRUSH WITH DEATH

November 13 2001 Ken suffered a near-fatal traumatic brain injury near his home in the Appalachians. A professional landscaper, he was volunteering his time creating a paintball field for local teens when the top of an eighty-foot tree he was cutting down broke free and slid down the length of the trunk striking him in the head.

The severity of his accident should have killed him instantly, literally blowing out a section of his skull. Bleeding profusely, his coworkers loaded him into the back of their pickup and four-wheeled down to waiting paramedics. After days in a coma, Ken amazed everyone by regaining consciousness. Unfortunately, the invasiveness of his injury left him prone to seizures, preventing him from returning to work.

When conventional pharmaceuticals did little to ease his disability, he tried medical grade Cannabis, experiencing remarkable results. Unfortunately, after realizing that Cannabis could alleviate his seizures, he was frustrated that his ONLY solution to return to a normal way of life would leave him a criminal. He wanted more for himself and his family. And, he wanted to share this miracle with others across the country who suffered from seizure disorders like him.
As he related to me,

If anything could cause me to have a seizure, I would certainly think riding a bicycle across the country would do it!

It took Ken two years to talk me into the journey. Disability had left me apprehensive.
Ken was in good physical condition for his age, however, pedaling a bicycle across the country would be difficult even for a young man. Committing to something like this took a very special kind of tenacity. As our months on the road would prove, Ken was most certainly up for the task.

It was never meant to be a race. We weren’t trying to set any records. We wanted to bring greater awareness of how vitally important Cannabis could be to those who suffer from serious chronic and terminal illnesses.

Making it across the border into California was a milestone for us. It was a time of celebration for an achievement we really weren’t sure we were going to pull off. But we had made it. We were finally here. Pulling into Upper Lake, California, we were told to look for a minivan that would lead us to Eddy Lepp’s compound.

EDDY’S PLACE

Eddy was a Cannabis grower and activist. His ministry, “Eddy’s Medicinal Gardens and Multi-Denominational Ministry of Cannabis and Rastafari” was well known to Californians - AND the Feds. Eddy, an ordained minister, maintained that Cannabis was an important sacrament for him and his parishioners and thereby outside of current state and Federal laws.

Pulling into a parking lot, a tan minivan was waiting for us. Pulling up, the sliding door opened and a familiar face emerged.

Up until that moment, I had only seen Jack Herer in photographs and videos. His book, “The Emperor Wears No Clothes” and the wealth of information it held had made him a legend. I couldn’t believe that HE was the one who chose to lead us in, but there he was with that characteristic smile, limping over to our trucks. I was in awe. After short pleasantries, we were on the road to Eddy’s, following closely behind Jack’s van.

Eddy’s compound was expansive. It sat on a hill, surrounded by a high privacy fence. Our small caravan snaked up to the expansive main house. I noted the long deck that ran the length of the back of the house overlooking farmland. Later, Eddy would stand on the back deck with me, pointing to areas in the farmland that expanded out below us. Prior to his arrest two years earlier, Eddy had subdivided 25 acres of farmland into plots where the chronically and terminally ill could grow their own medicine and take an active part in their healing.

When the Feds came in, they busted Eddy for growing over 32,000 plants. They were valued at well over 100 million dollars at the time. Eddie recalled how the Feds required two days and multiple stake trucks to haul away all of the Cannabis. He was told that the plants were heaped up so much that some fell off in the streets, causing cars to screech to a stop as their drivers ran out to snatch away whole plants.

Eddy and his wife, Linda (a late stage lung cancer patient), came out to meet us upon our arrival. After introductions with Ken and the rest of our team, Eddy signed our “signature truck” that bore the names and well-wishes of hundreds of people we’d met along the way.

JACK HERER

Moving inside, Jack was already sitting in a recliner. Reverend Tom Brown, Pastor of “Our Church” of Fayetteville, Arkansas was massaging ‘holy anointing oil’ into Jack’s feet and legs and telling stories of his escapades.

The recipe for Anointing Oil can actually be found in the Bible. When made correctly, the stuff is downright miraculous. I have only encountered it a few times in my Cannabis years. On one occasion while visiting a cancer patient, I complained of intense lower back pain. Before I knew it, “Holy Anointing Oil was being applied to my back. Almost immediately a deep fiery heat was penetrating my muscles around my spine, washing away the pain. I have no doubt that was what Jack was experiencing in his legs and feet. The very noticeable smell of cinnamon hinted at the potent ingredients that made this age old oil so renowned.

Our bikers knelt on the floor in front of Jack and Tom. I took a chair and began recording with my High 8 camcorder almost immediately. “Thor” (I never learned his real name) sat down behind me and began rolling spliffs - quite quickly and incredibly perfectly - I might add. The man had skills! The strain he was rolling was quite appropriately named in Jack’s honor. It was quite simply, “Jack Herer”

Jack’s face was weathered. His scraggly gray beard and bloodshot eyes were trademarks. His voice was gravelly and slurred. It had only been two years since his stroke. Though he had recovered well, I still had to strain to understand him.
I remember little of our conversation. What my camera recorded audibly made little sense. The discussions were inconsequential at best. It didn’t really matter. We were celebrating… and smoking Cannabis with a legend. The recording only needed to reflect the atmosphere at that priceless moment in time.

Shortly thereafter, I sat down on a couch, still shaken by what I was experiencing, watching the many patients that were mingling about. Suddenly, a rather studious young man sat down beside me, apparently on a mission. He carefully laid a black box on its side on the coffee table in front of us. Steadying the box with one hand, he snapped open the two latches and opened the lid, revealing an intricately blown glass bong. I studied him with amazement as he quite deliberately filled the bowl from a plastic bottle he had pulled from his pocket.

The young man then picked up the bong along with a lighter and handed it to me. I felt honored, but also apprehensive at the thought of holding such a work of art, let alone taking a draw from it…but I did. I certainly did.

It was a remarkable and seemingly mystical evening. The cares of the world… and laws… seemed to have been suspended for a time. Pain and the tragedy of terminal illness didn’t seem to matter amid the haze. Those things would keep for another day. Nights like this one are what make the most profound memories.