When I was a kid, perhaps 8ish, I lived next door to Todd Mooney, a boy who was about 4 or so years older than me. He had another name around the neighborhood according to the vernacular of the time, the late 60’s. His nickname was simply “Pothead.” I can directly attribute my knowledge of the delicate aroma of burning cannabis to neighbor Todd. During his pot parties, when his parents were gone, the smoke would waft over our short wooden fence. Now I really don’t remember why I didn’t like Todd, but he and I were obviously not friends. Now perhaps I took my dislike for him a bit too far one day when I borrowed one of my father’s shovels, the square-nose variety if I recall correctly. I don’t remember what initiated my actions but I do remember hefting the tool in my hands, feeling its weight and its balance point, moving it side to side and up and down, generally getting a good feel for the wood and steel weapon. I then took a good grip on the handle and squarely smacked young Mooney right over the head with it. It earned me the second spanking of my life. My first is for another article. I remember my dad said that he had to spank me because Mr. Mooney insisted I be punished, but that he secretly assumed that Todd had deserved the head whack. Well, yeah, he’s a pothead dad. Nub said. Besides, I didn’t draw blood, and he was obviously brain damaged before I hit him. So you see, my disdain for drugs, illegal and legal, goes way back.
To this day I have a vision that I cannot get out of my head from when I was about 9. I am standing in my living room next to the coffee table that my parents still own. They made furniture to last. On top of the dark wood surface is a typical brown lunch sack. As I peer down into the rectangular opening I see every color of the pharmaceutical rainbow filling about an inch of the bag. It is a candy shop of reds and blues, yellows and greens, uppers and downers, tranquilizers and speed. On the couch next to me is a relative, who shall remain nameless, who was later kicked out of our home for repeatedly disobeying the don’t come home stoned or bring your drugs into our house rule. A good rule I think. She was passed out and stoned, having been assisted into the house by a neighbor who saw her staggering out of her car. Ah, the fun of recreational drug use.
Todd smoked pot for the symptoms it provided. My relative did her drugs for the symptoms they provided. In fact, all drugs, legal and illegal are the same in that they are taken for the symptoms they provide. Smoke enough pot and you become just like Todd Mooney, and trust me you don’t want that. Take enough speed and you die like my relative almost did. Take enough Tylenol and you will need kidney dialysis. Take enough Advil and you will need a liver transplant. All medications are taken for the symptoms they provide, or control. They are almost never taken to correct the cause of the symptom.
That’s what makes chiropractic unique. By correcting subluxation we correct cause. And when you correct cause symptoms go away on their own, and in the case of subluxation your spine lasts a lot longer and your body and organs function better. And so I wonder, would I have become a chiropractor without neighbor Todd and my dad’s trusty square nosed shovel, or without my drug addicted relative? I saw the dangers of illegal drugs then and I see the dangers of all drugs now. Health will never come from a bottle. Health is earned.
To this day I have a vision that I cannot get out of my head from when I was about 9. I am standing in my living room next to the coffee table that my parents still own. They made furniture to last. On top of the dark wood surface is a typical brown lunch sack. As I peer down into the rectangular opening I see every color of the pharmaceutical rainbow filling about an inch of the bag. It is a candy shop of reds and blues, yellows and greens, uppers and downers, tranquilizers and speed. On the couch next to me is a relative, who shall remain nameless, who was later kicked out of our home for repeatedly disobeying the don’t come home stoned or bring your drugs into our house rule. A good rule I think. She was passed out and stoned, having been assisted into the house by a neighbor who saw her staggering out of her car. Ah, the fun of recreational drug use.
Todd smoked pot for the symptoms it provided. My relative did her drugs for the symptoms they provided. In fact, all drugs, legal and illegal are the same in that they are taken for the symptoms they provide. Smoke enough pot and you become just like Todd Mooney, and trust me you don’t want that. Take enough speed and you die like my relative almost did. Take enough Tylenol and you will need kidney dialysis. Take enough Advil and you will need a liver transplant. All medications are taken for the symptoms they provide, or control. They are almost never taken to correct the cause of the symptom.
That’s what makes chiropractic unique. By correcting subluxation we correct cause. And when you correct cause symptoms go away on their own, and in the case of subluxation your spine lasts a lot longer and your body and organs function better. And so I wonder, would I have become a chiropractor without neighbor Todd and my dad’s trusty square nosed shovel, or without my drug addicted relative? I saw the dangers of illegal drugs then and I see the dangers of all drugs now. Health will never come from a bottle. Health is earned.