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Reflections on 9/11, 24 Years Later: How Tragedy Led Me to Cannabis

Published
3 days agoon

This article originally appeared in the Cannabis Confidential newsletter. You can subscribe here.
“It’s a far-gone lullaby sung many years ago; mama, mama, many worlds I’ve come since I first left home “
Grateful Dead
It was a beautiful, crisp September morning as I looked up from my WSJ to watch the sunrise over the East River. It was a mindful moment, a pause to reflect on the beauty of the world and my place in life.
That was the first thing I remember about 9/11: how sharp the horizon was as dawn illuminated lower Manhattan.
I had hundreds of trading positions and millions of dollars in risk waiting downtown, but none of that mattered as my driver navigated the FDR and I soaked in the scene.
I was the president of a $400 million hedge fund and as bearish as we were on the macro landscape, we were positioned very long heading into that fateful day.
As I settled into my turret and downed my second cup of joe, Nokia pre-announced a negative quarter and the stock shot 5% higher.
That was our signal that the market was washed out, proof positive that traders were caught short and scrambling to cover. We pressed our bet, buying SPY and QQQ hand over fist, twisting the knife into the bears that had overstayed their welcome.
The first boom shook our office walls, causing everyone to stop what they were doing.
“What the hell was that?” One of the analysts yelled, “The World Trade Center’s on fire!” as we turned to see flames raging and black smoke billowing into the clear blue sky.
At 40 Fulton Street, we were a few blocks away from the towers and on the 24th floor, we had a bird’s eye view. The mainstream media had yet to pick up the story, which only added to the confusion as we watched it unfold in real-time.
I turned to share the news on TheStreet.com, posting commentary at 8:47 A.M.
“A bomb has exploded in the WTC… may God have mercy on those innocent souls.”
As the initial shock began to fade and the futures swung wildly in 10-20 handle clips, we made some sales, but when reports emerged that a commuter plane had crashed, we scooped that inventory back as our eyes fixated on the scene outside.
I’ve since learned that the reason I couldn’t look away was that my mind had no way to process the information; that, no matter how hard I tried to mentally digest what my eyes were seeing, there was no place to “file” images of human beings holding hands and jumping off the World Trade Center.
It’s an image I can’t shake to this day, bodies falling through a maze of confetti like ants from a tree. It’s a sight that I wish I never saw.
We huddled by our window with our mouths open as somebody repeated “Oh, my God!” behind us.
An airplane approached from the distance and circled behind the second tower, entering it from behind. In slow motion, the ka-BOOM again shook the foundation of our building as the fireball exploded directly toward us.
I thought, “This is how I’m going to die,” as we gathered our staff and rushed them out the door and down the stairwell.
I raced back to my turret before leaving and quickly wrote “We’re evacuating our building…” and sent it to my editors, unsure if they would get it.
The Duck and Cover
Once outside, we instinctively ran toward the Seaport. I remember thinking that, worst case, we could dive into the East River and take our chances there.
I overheard someone say that the Pentagon was attacked. The Pentagon? Wasn’t that air space protected? With no cell or internet service, there was no way to access any information; we were cut off from the world.
My mind raced as I thought about friends who worked in the towers and resisted the urge to run to find them. We knew we were under attack, but little else, with all of us packed together like cattle in lower Manhattan.
The crumbling began with a whisper and grew to a growl as the first tower imploded; we scrambled, scattering our team among the thousands of people as the smoke and debris began to billow through the streets.
I don’t know how my partner and I found each other, but we somehow connected and ran north along the river. I watched the water to our right as a precaution; it was an option I wanted to keep open as we broke into a sprint.
We flagged down a taxi, which was occupied by a young woman who was hysterical and confused. My partner offered the cab driver $500 to take us away from the chaos while I tried to calm this stranger, who was now hyperventilating.
Between sobs, she told me that her boyfriend worked in an office that was high up in the towers and as I looked out the back window and saw that one was already gone, I was at a loss for words.
How could I ease her pain?
What was happening to our country?
Was this really happening at all?
I eventually found my way to my home on 57th Street, navigating the lines that had already formed at convenience stores. People were hoarding bottled water, canned food, flashlights and other necessities.
I had none of that and I didn’t care. I just wanted to find my family, my friends, myself. I needed to understand what happened to establish a framework of relativity, a place where I could begin to assess and digest what had just happened.
A half-hour after I arrived home, my mother crashed through the door and squeezed me tighter than I’ve ever been held.
Close friends began to gather at my apartment. Five at first, then 10, then 20. It was the other side of disaster, a dose of humanity in a sea of horror, a refuge of love in a maze of confusion.
I found myself at my desk, looking for a semblance of normalcy and a familiar setting. Instinctively, I began to write the column below, which was published that evening on TheStreet.com.
The Day the World Changed
By Todd Harrison
09/11/2001 8:33 p.m. EDT
Numbness. Shock. Anger. Sadness.
As I sit here with family and friends, awaiting calls that may never come, I am drawn to my keyboard — and I’m not quite sure why.
Perhaps it’s an attempt to somehow release the tremendous sadness locked inside me.
Maybe I hope that sharing my grief will stop these images… stop the shaking.
It’s 10 hours after the fact, and I still feel the “boom” that shook our trading room.
I can still see the bodies falling from the first struck tower, one after another, as we gathered by the window in shock and confusion.
I can still hear the screams in my office, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” as the second plane hit … and the image of that fireball rolling toward us will forever be etched in my mind.
I often write that “this too shall pass,” but I will never be the same. Maybe that’s a selfish thought, as thousands of people won’t have the opportunity to put this behind them.
Each time my phone rings and I hear the voice of a friend who I feared was lost, I break into tears.
Every time I get a call from someone who “just wanted to make sure I’m still here,” I’m reminded of how lucky I am to share relationships, memories, and a past.
I know many of you read my column to make money, but do yourself a favor and surround yourself with loved ones this evening.
Some of the wealthiest people I know don’t have two dimes to rub together, and a few of them will never see their children, parents, or friends again.
More than anything else, I wish I’d kept my date to share a drink with my good friend Bill Meehan at Cantor Fitz.
I was tired, opting to grab a good night’s sleep rather than down a couple of apple martinis with my sage friend.
I’m sitting by my phone, brother, waiting for your call.
Drinks are on me.
Picking up the Pieces
Friends who shared similar experiences all dealt with their grief differently.
Some left our business entirely, opting to enjoy a life where bells didn’t bookend days.
Some got married and others divorced as the specter of death made them rethink life.
Some fell into drug/alcohol addictions, hoping self-medication would dull their pain.
We each did what we could. We all did what we had to.
My personal path was reflexive and subconscious, guided by motivations I didn’t fully understand at the time. I spent one more year as the President of Cramer, Berkowitz, which lost our offices in the attack, before stepping down and shifting course.
Most people thought I was crazy to relinquish such a high-profile, lucrative position and maybe I was. I wanted to do more with my life and create an existence where self-worth wasn’t dictated by P&L. Trading, for all it’s many benefits, can also ring hollow.
When people ask me when I started in cannabis, I tell them that it was after Sept. 11, 2001. That was the catalyst, although I didn’t realize it for almost a decade. I knew that something powerful shifted within me that day, but never knew what PTSD was or how it would manifest.
I began to suffer from depression, even if it took some time to see it. I worked non-stop and the few times I took a break, I locked the door, turned off the phone, closed the blinds and climbed into bed. I didn’t see friends or seek the comfort of family; I just wanted to be alone.
I also smoked a fair amount of weed, which I told Dr. Julie Holland during one of our sessions. I started seeing Julie after 9/11 and unbeknownst to me at the time, she was an expert on cannabis. So when I mentioned that I felt guilty because of my cannabis consumption, she told me about the science behind the endocannabinoid system.
Thus began my journey down a rabbit hole for the intellectually curious. I’m talking about all of it: the 30K yr history (10K as medicine), how it was weaponized as an immigration tool and the science, which boggles the mind at this early stage.
I’ll say this, too: Julie was right. Despite all that propaganda about how this is your brain on drugs and I learned it from watching you, Dad, cannabis has been used as a remedy for cultures/ societies for as long as there have been cultures/ societies.
But this isn’t about that; just some context amidst the remembrance.
Back to the Future
It’s been twenty-four years since first responders showed us what true heroes look like.
24 years.
A lot has happened since then: misguided wars, financial bubbles and busts, political divides, the devolution of social mood, the evolution of managed markets, crypto, and all sorts of tribalized agendas across the societal spectrum and global landscape.
It hasn’t been easy, but it’s often been rewarding despite, or perhaps because of, the failures, lessons and disappointments that have littered my journey. The polarity of life across almost two and a half decades, reduced to a snapshot on this day of reflection.
I’ve learned a few things, most notably my capacity to absorb an immense amount of pain and pressure and come through the other side. There’s a lesson in that, a hard-won lesson that has sustained me since. “If I could get through that…” I can surely muscle my way through anything despite the disappointments and setbacks.
They say experiences define our reality and that’s true, but it’s the perception of those experiences that really moves the needle. What we did. How we reacted. How we changed. And how we incorporated that into our life, and the lives of our children.
I’m not going to say I’ve got anything figured out because I don’t. I’m entirely more pleasant on the page than in person, I still struggle to manage my moods, I still get startled by loud noises, I still cringe when I see airplanes fly behind buildings, and my circle is still tight, almost restrictively so.
But I also believe that hardships, no matter the source or depth, forge character, and that character defines us as people. Someone once said, “self-growth can only be found outside your comfort zone,” and I suppose there’s truth in that.
I don’t know what the next twenty-four years will bring—I’ll be 80—but if the past is a prologue, there will be two sides to the ride.
There are things we can read in a book and lessons we must learn for ourselves and if the greatest wisdom is born as a function of pain, it’s incumbent upon us to find our sources of strength that will sustain us through the inevitable darkness.
Because there is no good without bad, no highs without lows, no winning without loss.
May peace be with you.
#NeverForget
R.P
B.M
Cover image made with Canva
This article is from an external, unpaid contributor. It does not represent High Times’ reporting and has not been edited for content or accuracy.

Author: mscannabiz.com
MScannaBIZ for all you Mississippi Cannabis News and Information.
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The Toking Traveler: Why Amsterdam Weed Is Mostly Boof

Published
12 hours agoon
September 14, 2025
You know those tequila shops in Mexico? The tourist traps in every major resort town that try to pass off random blends of grain spirits as the real-deal Holyfield blue agave tequila?
Yes, this may come as a shock to our audience, but if you have even the slightest sense of what defines a quality cannabis product, you may leave Amsterdam feeling a bit… hoodwinked. Bamboozled. Punk’d.
Firmly the mecca of cannabis since back in 1976, Amsterdam holds a special place in our stoner hearts because of their laissez-faire approach to recreational consumption. For many, a trip to their famed coffee shops was the first chance we had to legally get high. White Widow, AK-47, OG Kush…they seem to have all the classics, along with a laundry list of different Hazes (e.g, Amnesia Haze, a signature smoke of the Dutch).
On my most recent trip back in July, I stepped off the plane after a particularly hellish 20+ hour journey from LA to Istanbul before finally reaching Schiphol and beelined for The Bulldog, arguably the most famous coffee shop in existence. While I appreciated the conversations I had with other patrons and staff alike, including a gregarious German home grow enthusiast living on an isolated island in the Caribbean, only in town while on his way to Eastern Europe for “the REAL Dracula history tour, not the one you see in guides,” the caliber of social interaction doesn’t really make up for how subpar their cannabis is.
Imagine an OG Kush that doesn’t look like OG, doesn’t smell like OG, or even hit you like OG. Yeah, it’s even more of a gutpunch after you realize you dropped $18 on a single gram of it.
Do the Dutch simply not care about quality? Or perhaps they mix so much damn tobacco into their spliffs that it doesn’t matter?
In my travels, I met many locals who also bemoaned their city’s lack of quality. This all stems from the fact that the Dutch have adopted a “tolerance policy,” as while cannabis (and other substances) do remain federally illegal in the Netherlands, they’ve realized that attempting to regulate often does more harm than good. Who’d have thought?!?
While there is essentially zero enforcement around the use of “soft drugs”, such as cannabis and psilocybin truffles, the rest of the supply chain is a fragmented nightmare of backroom deals and questionable practices. Simply stated, it’s all illicit market product.
Their system is entirely built around rewarding the lowest cost of production, regardless of safety or standards. Any cannabis you’ll find in Amsterdam hasn’t been lab tested, meaning that harmful bacteria, pesticides, and who knows what else are likely present in your bag. They’re able to get away with it, as most of the tourists crawling the Red Light District will never return to that same shop. It’s designed to run efficiently and without accountability.
Case in point:
- It is illegal to possess or use cannabis.
- It is illegal to commercially grow cannabis.
- It is legal for coffeeshops to sell you cannabis, but not for them to acquire that cannabis, so it “magically appears” for sale at each location.
Curious, eh? This is also why there is a very high probability that your coffee shop cannabis was grown on the top floor of a local high-rise apartment building by an organized criminal syndicate (and yes, they own/operate the rest of the space to provide cover). Your OG isn’t true OG because there are no repercussions if it’s not.
Now, the one exception where you can find true-to-strain cuts seems to be most of the Haze cultivars, as these are massively popular in Europe (and thus with locals) and known for being premium quality, so the bar is often a bit higher.
Fortunately, the times they are a-changin’ and even a craft rosin scene has started to develop in the city. I was personally blown away by the service I received at Boerejongens, a coffee shop that the headiest of locals kept endorsing. Outside of their shop, I was greeted by an employee in a sharp bowler hat and three-piece suit. These guys serve as de facto guardians of the neighborhood community, helping to ensure that anyone visiting doesn’t get too unruly. They’ll even help little old ladies cross the street or provide expert-level guidance to anyone lost, customer or otherwise. Inside the store, the “hipster barista” meme has been taken to wholly new levels, as there was a row of budtenders decked out in white butchers’ aprons, wielding giant butchers’ knives to chop up flower into your desired quantities. The Strawberry Haze at Boerejongens ran circles around everything else I procured, outside of a decent Blueberry Haze I found near Vondelpark.
Next time you’re ready to enjoy a toke as you navigate Amsterdam’s canals, do yourself a favor and avoid the touristy areas like the plague. The further you’re away from the Red Light District (and I’m sad to say, shops like The Bulldog), the closer you are to finding buds that won’t just scratch your itch but will truly impress you.
Photo by Jinsoo Choi on Unsplash

Author: mscannabiz.com
MScannaBIZ for all you Mississippi Cannabis News and Information.
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Arkansas Medical Marijuana Sales Are On Track To Set A New Annual Record

Published
14 hours agoon
September 14, 2025
“A total of $1.5 billion has been spent on medical marijuana since the state’s first dispensary opened in May 2019.”
By Sonny Albarado, Arkansas Advocate
Arkansans spent $10 million more on medical marijuana so far this year than during the first eight months of 2024, putting the state on track to exceed a record set two years ago, according to the state finance department.
From January through August, Arkansans bought $193.1 million in medical marijuana products from the state’s dispensaries, compared with $182.5 million in the same period last year, according to a press release from the state Department of Finance and Administration.
“With daily sales averaging about $800,000 in 2025, we are on track to surpass the 2023 sales record of $283 million,” department spokesperson Scott Hardin said.
There has also been a significant year-to-year increase in the number of pounds of cannabis sold, Hardin said, with the 2025 total at 52,292 pounds.
The state collected $5.38 million in tax revenue from medical marijuana in July and August, bringing the total tax haul so far this year to $21.57 million.
Patients spent $24,262,201 in July, purchasing 6,721 pounds, and $24,647,170 in August, buying 6,778 pounds, according to the finance department.
Suite 443 in Hot Springs and Natural Relief Dispensary in Sherwood sold the most medical marijuana in both July and August, according to the press release. Suite 443 sold 1,419.6 pounds total for both months. Natural Relief sold 1,317.7 pounds over July and August.
“A total of $1.5 billion has been spent on medical marijuana since the state’s first dispensary opened in May 2019,” Hardin said.
The Arkansas Department of Health reports 109,060 active patient cards. The Medical Marijuana Commission has licensed 38 dispensaries but only 36 are operating, Hardin said. The license of one of the closed dispensaries was revoked by the state Alcoholic Beverage Control Board last year, and its owner’s appeal of the revocation remains before the courts.

Author: mscannabiz.com
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When Cannabis Brands Blur Into Youth Culture, Regulators Notice: Lessons From Tobacco’s Past

Published
1 day agoon
September 13, 2025
TL;DR: Cannabis is meant to be enjoyable for adults. But when products start looking like candy or cartoons, the line gets blurry. Tobacco’s history shows that even the appearance of marketing to kids can trigger harsh regulations. If cannabis wants a sustainable future, it has to prove it can draw that line for itself.
Cannabis has always been fun. It is part of what makes it powerful, what makes it stick in culture. But fun becomes a problem when it starts creeping into the territory of kid-friendly. That is the line the industry needs to pay attention to, now more than ever.
History has already shown what happens when that line gets crossed. Big Tobacco learned it the hard way: even the appearance of marketing to children is enough to trigger a backlash that can reshape an entire industry.
The Ghost of Joe Camel
Once upon a time, tobacco companies leaned hard into youth culture. Joe Camel, candy cigarettes, neon packaging, and bubblegum-flavored smokes were all part of the playbook. By the early 1990s, research showed that six-year-olds recognized Joe Camel almost as easily as Mickey Mouse. Camel’s share among underage smokers soared.
The public response was swift. By 1998, the Master Settlement Agreement banned cartoons in tobacco ads, restricted sponsorships, and wiped Joe Camel off the map. The lesson was clear: once the public believes you are targeting kids, you do not just lose credibility, you lose control over your own marketing future.
Cannabis’ Candy Problem
Today, echoes of that playbook are showing up again. In 2023, the FTC and FDA issued joint warning letters after finding THC edibles packaged to mimic Skittles, Oreos, Nerds Rope, Doritos, and Cheetos. Regulators deemed the practice reckless and illegal, since children could easily mistake these products for ordinary snacks.
In California, a 2025 state audit found that more than half of the reviewed cannabis products had packaging “likely attractive to children.” Designs included colorful fonts, cartoon mascots, and labels that mimicked cereals and cookies.
These incidents are not about strangers handing out weed candy on Halloween. That myth has been debunked year after year. The real risk, one that does occur from time to time, is more ordinary: a toddler at home finding a bag of gummies that looks exactly like the treats they already know and love.
Flavors, Fonts, and Lifestyle Crossovers
Packaging is only part of the story. Visit a legal dispensary and you will see products with candy-like flavors and bright, playful labels. As Columbia University epidemiologist Katherine Keyes noted, “If you go through a cannabis dispensary right now, it’s almost absurd how youth-oriented a lot of the packaging and the products are.”
On the other hand, the lifestyle layer adds another wrinkle. Some cannabis brands have leaned into culture so thoroughly that their logos appear on streetwear, music videos, and even kids’ clothing lines. Whatever the intent, the optics are tricky. When children wear cannabis-branded merch, even innocently, it normalizes adult practices in youth culture.
On social media, the risks multiply. A 2022 study of dispensary posts found that six percent featured cartoon characters like SpongeBob or Rick and Morty, while more than a third advertised steep discounts. These are old marketing tricks recycled from alcohol and tobacco, and for a reason: they still work.
The Regulatory Lens
In the US, states are already tightening their grip. Colorado banned edibles shaped like animals or fruit, and requires a universal THC symbol on every piece of candy. New York’s cannabis regulations forbid packaging or ads “designed in any way to appeal to children.” California has barred cartoons, neon fonts, and fruit imagery on labels.
At the federal level, agencies are also stepping in. The FTC and FDA crackdown on copycat edibles showed regulators do not need cannabis to be federally legal to act. And in Congress, the issue is already in debate. In 2025, Senate leaders cited hemp-derived gummies marketed like Oreos and cereals as justification for closing the intoxicating hemp loophole. Senator Mitch McConnell called it “deceptive and predatory marketing towards children.”
If cannabis continues down this path, federal legalization could arrive paired with harsh restrictions: plain packaging mandates, advertising bans modeled on tobacco, or a blanket prohibition on flavors. As things stand, the industry risks trading creativity for a regulatory straightjacket.
Walking the Line
The situation may seem dire, but let’s remember: cannabis is not Big Tobacco. It does not need to be. Nevertheless, perception is powerful: if the industry does not draw a clear line between adult fun and kid-friendly branding, others will draw it for us.
The choice is simple: either the industry proves it can self-regulate, or Congress and regulators will do so with a heavy hand.
Cannabis has a chance to write a different story. A responsible story. One that keeps products creative and culture-rich without turning them into candy-colored billboards for kids. That is how the industry earns trust, protects its future, and avoids being treated like the enemy it never wanted to be.
Disclosure: This article is for informational and educational purposes only. Cannabis products are intended for adults in jurisdictions where legal. Nothing here is intended to encourage use by minors.
Cover image made with AI.

Author: mscannabiz.com
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