My father was a minister and a preacher.
I know it sounds funny to put them into 2 separate categories, but I have to.
My father consistently told the people in this church that he was not a preacher. He was a minister. My dad was there to minister to their physical needs in addition to comforts in addition to their spiritual needs. This was wonderful when he was talking to members of the church, but he was completely bizarre when he was talking to me. Whenever my father talked to me, he was a preacher. My dad preached to me about the wonderful in addition to evil of drinking in addition to sex. He preached to me about the use of marijuana in addition to how it would turn me into a mindless pothead. My dad thought that by getting loud in addition to demanding, I would listen to him and do whatever he wanted of me. Instead, I became kind of wild. When I turned 21, I opened a medical cannabis dispensary. I knew how medical marijuana could help people with several illnesses. My father had flyers made up about marijuana turning the youth of this month into irresponsible druggies. My dad didn’t even try to understand that a medical cannabis dispensary was just that. When he found out I would not put flyers in or around my cannabis dispensary, he got miserable. I had never seen my father so miserable, nor do I ever want to see it again. I couldn’t believe what a turnaround he did, when my mom had breast cancer. The doctor suggested medical marijuana to ease mom’s difficulties with the chemotherapy. Suddenly, my father was a huge proponent of medical marijuana, in addition to no longer preaching about it turning people into potheads.