It Happened in Mendocino County

by Rose Trillin

When I moved to Berkeley in 1979 my acquaintance with Ron Dellums and his pro-union platform convinced me that I had firmly landed in the belly of the People's Republic of Berkeley.

I happened to be in Rome a few years later when Ron spoke to the Democratic Socialist Party — my first first-hand experience with any socialists outside of the United States. What a refreshing bunch! It opened my eyes to a larger worldview. After that, I became more involved as an activist.

Several months ago I accidentally happened upon a topic regarding unions which I believe to be a new "high-bred" among union support issues. I hope Ron would find this, at least, amusing. First, I have to preface this story with, "This happened in Mendocino County."

In 2001, I traveled to San Francisco where I facilitated support groups at one of the medical marijuana clubs. Members of CHAMP were the most diverse humanitarian group of 40 individuals in recovery I've ever had the good fortune to meet. It was a joy to be involved and that's all I'm gonna say about that!

Out of that, I wound up gaining a new house mate for a while. He was gay, and suffered from HIV. Of particular fascination to me was his feeling of inherent right and personal ownership of the laws of Mendocino County governing his small (according to the laws of Mendocino County) production of personal use marijuana. I knew many guerrilla marijuana growers, few of whom own their right by law to become medical marijuana patients.

"Fortalezo" was trying to eliminate prescribed drugs from his "diet." We never would have had the conversation about the prescription drugs had I not found him one night trying to chase a sleeping pill with coffee at 3am while walking barefoot in shards of broken Pyrex glass after shattering my Chemex carafe on the kitchen floor. He and my two dachsunds were dancing around in the glass — remarkably bloodless.

Doctors at a prominent medical center in the Bay Area prescribed for Fortalezo so many drugs that the combinations when taken together were contra-indicating one another. Concerned about this effect causing premature death, I began to inquire about what the drugs were for and how they made him feel — worse or better? Forget the HIV for a moment — of major concern was Fortalezo's continued basic human health, happiness and well-being regardless of pre or post conditions.

A few months went by and Fortalezo's health improved rapidly as he quit the pharmaceuticals. One day as we sat talking over morning coffee on the front porch, Fortalezo brought out a hefty bag full of prescribed drugs — enough to kill a herd of horses. We sat there looking at it. We talked about many things related to the amount of unused drugs in the bag. Many of the drugs required "triplicates" (prescribed by three doctors) for such mood enhancers as antidepressants with sedatives (Wellbutrin and Seraquil.)

We contemplated the over-the-counter value vs. street value, and how to dispose of them because we didn't want to pollute the environment by flushing them down the toilet. This brought to mind: how would his liver have looked had he consumed them? (That's when we laughed till we cried.) To think how polluted Fortalezo would have been had he consumed all those drugs. Now he was down to one pill and medical marijuana, having been removed from anti-virals as well. A much happier man and a picture of health, his HIV blood counts were even improving without the hard drugs he'd been prescribed.

One year had passed since Fortalezo moved into my house. The day after school let out in June, the kids in my neighborhood expanded their territory like so many shoe sizes. It was then that I found two drifters in my backyard and I told Fortalezo to guard his few legal medical marijuana plants. I told him that in Mendocino County it is the thieves you have to watch, not the sheriff. By law, if your plants get ripped off, the sheriff files a report. It's legal Mendocino County.

As the kids became more accustomed to respecting territories, the next door crack addict started openly complaining that he was going to turn Fortalezo in for growing marijuana. When Fortalezo heard this, he dramatically proclaimed: "I am a Medical Marijuana Patients Union member! I pay $12 per year for my union membership and I legally produced marijuana not for profit, but for my own legally-prescribed consumption. If the crank dude thinks he can make my life more complicated by not respecting the laws of Mendocino County protecting HIV patient, and their choice of drug therapy, it will become his huge headache on many levels. There is the medical marijuana issue, the confidential and medically sensitive issue of HIV, the hate crime issue against me as a gay, harassment, illegal trespass, his own possession and arrest record for methamphetamine, and child endangerment. Then there's the meth trafficking. I don't believe that's legal in Mendocino county — yet!"

I drifted off after hearing the word "Union." Fortalezo is Italiano and also tends to be very dramatic and emotional, so I tend to ignore much of what he says when his passions get hackled.

All I heard was, and I am a "union member," and a big light bulb went up. Medical Marijuana Patients Union member. Would that, technically, perhaps even legally speaking, make all the non-union guerrilla growers scabs?

What would Right-on Ron think after he finished laughing himself silly?