Recently, while walking my dog in a local park, I overheard an elderly gentleman expressing his dissatisfaction to his wife: “I hate smelling weed wherever I go.” There was a faint smell of cannabis in the air, the lingering effect of folks making the best use of a park: basking in the sun, smoking a fat blunt and enjoying life.

The old codger also probably yells “Get off the grass” when children have the audacity to walk on his lawn, and his wife probably screams at him, “I hate smelling your farts, step outside to your blessed lawn when you need to cut one loose.

The old fart was exaggerating; you do not smell the sweet essence of pot everywhere you go in Lynchburg. Although adults can legally possess up to an ounce of marijuana and grow up to four plants per household, the state has not established a legal retail market for sales.

I’m a freaking boomer, but I love the smell of weed, and I wish that dope was sold everywhere, including convenience stores, so that you could really smell the herb wherever you go in Lynchburg.

If I were the mayor of Lynchburg, I would deliberately release the smell of Ganja into the atmosphere of every large public space, the ambient scenting would usher in an age of brotherhood, peace, tranquility, and spirituality.