I grew up in Toronto with two loving parents and pretty much everything a kid could ask for. I attended a Catholic grade school. I had three older brothers and a sister and lots of friends. I loved playing organized sports – hockey in the winter and baseball in the summer. I really excelled at hockey and was always at the top of my team in goals and points. At the age of nine, I was breaking scoring records in my hockey league.

 

 

But in Grade 7 my troubles started. That is the year I discovered beer and cigarettes. My friends around the neighbourhood were all older than me. We all played hockey together. After one of the games the guys somehow managed to get beer. I tried one and loved the taste and smell of it and instantly became a fan. That’s when I also started smoking cigarettes. Every weekend my friends and I would hang out together smoking cigarettes and drinking.

 

I really wanted to get high again, so I took the money and combined it with my friend's money and we skipped class and smoked up behind the school.

 

It wasn’t until Grade 9 that I first tried marijuana. I had known the smell of it for a long time since I shared a room with my older brother, who used it quite regularly. He sometimes would lock me out of the room and stay in there with his friends or my other older brothers. When I was allowed back in the room there would always be a strange smell – like a skunk I thought – and the air would be really cloudy. My friend, who was a year older than me, said that when his brother smokes marijuana it smells the same way. We promised each other that we were going to try it one day. When years later some of the older guys asked me if I wanted to smoke up with them, I was more than eager to try it. I remember taking drags off that first joint and almost coughing my lungs out. But the way it made me feel was amazing – like I was in another world with no problems and a feeling of perfect bliss.