Blessed Are the Uncool

Yesterday my neighbor invited me to smoke some marijuana with him and another neighbor. That's the first time that's happened in a few years, so I was a little rusty as I politely declined. Back in college I was better at saying no without making the situation awkward.

I've never smoked marijuana, but I've been around it plenty -- dorms, hockey games, construction jobs, and armchair intellectuals. It's never been a temptation for me, because I value my sobriety at a basic aesthetic (vs. moral) level. That surreal feeling of spacelessness is the worst part of any fever for me, when I get sick.

So when B___ asked if I'd like to join him and F___ for a neighborly joint I scrambled for excuses, stuttering my way to a simple "No Thanks".

When I moved to this neighborhood a year ago, I really wanted to sink roots; to get to know folks. So I consider the offer of a joint a measure of success. Because after college, you don't just offer a smoke to anyone. Really, it was an offer of hospitality.

My question to myself this morning was: what would be the best way to move forward in friendship with my neighbors from this point? I suppose by reciprocating: by extending hospitality of my own. Maybe I'll start grilling in the front, as opposed to the back, and offer some less toxic gifts. Wisconsin has a drugs problem: many people in the state need alcohol to have a social life.

One of my goals with Blessed Are the Uncool has been to start a conversation about how Christians can live more naturally with their families and neighbors. I'd love to hear about other people's stories.