249. Song No. 3,716: “Ganja Babe,” Michael Franti
Songs from the Front Porch, 2003

_{(Good god, I can’t even find adequate superlatives for how tempted I was to just wait and post this on 4/20.)}

Because reality being a little too on-the-nose is about what I’ve come to expect from this timeline, “Ganja Babe” turned out to be one hell of a gateway drug that hubs and I discovered via Weeds. And because sometimes things just have to careen off into the most unlikely of directions, one no-brainer of a TV soundtrack pairing led to us seeing Michael Franti play in three different states (Pensy, New York and Virginia—that last one because, in a story I can’t wait to tell when its time comes, it was the only leg of that summer’s DMB tour where he was the opening act at a venue even remotely traversable for us) because we finally, finally found some music we both equally enjoyed.

Neither of us listens to Franti as much as we used to those first couple of years after discovering his music—like, we used “I Know I’m Not Alone” in our wedding—but he and his music still have such a special place in my heart, and it has been such a treat to get back in touch with that affection through this project (which I suppose might be evidenced by his outsized, seven-time appearance in these stories). And like every time I get to write about my two of favorite things in the same article (weed and unions), the convergence of other pairings I love (weed and music) just feels like taking the most efficient route to high-yield happiness.