Read On: A health crisis hits home

February 01, 2014|By Ray Richmond

I’m supposed to write a column right now, but as I type these words my brother Len is fighting for his life at home battling AIDS. It’s tough for me to think of a whole lot else. So please indulge me.

Len has never set foot in Burbank or Glendale as far as I know. He doesn’t drive despite having lived in Southern California his entire life — presently in Santa Monica. The Valley is too gauche for him. So are most things. Like sports. And heterosexuals. At least, most heterosexuals.

To call my brother an eccentric is way too tame. He’s an odd duck, but an entirely charming one. He will overshare what he did in bed last night as if he were describing what he ate for breakfast.

He came out of the closet as a gay man while still in his teens back in the late 1950s long before it was fashionable. But Len never hid, wearing his gayness like a golden ticket to a club of which he was defiantly proud to be a member. He was never ashamed of himself, and so neither was I of him.


This isn’t to say he and I were particularly close. Part of it is the 14-year age gap between us. I’ve also thought him childish and self-absorbed. He found me uptight and judgmental. But aside from a few flare-ups, we ultimately accepted each other’s foibles.

I’ve also respected Len’s chosen routine as much as I could someone for whom weed was the center of the universe, in all of its forms: smoked, squirted, sprayed, eaten. If he could figure out a way to ingest it through his hair follicles, he would.

But Len, 70, has been able to incorporate marijuana into his creative life in a way few others have. He wrote and directed a film documentary in 2011 called “What If Cannabis Cured Cancer,” which explored the idea that weed not only could relieve chemotherapy’s side effects but might actually rid the body of malignancy entirely.

A year ago, he also put out a CD of songs titled “Marijuana: The Musical.”

Besides being a jolly old stoner, Len’s always prided himself on working a supremely healthy lifestyle. He pops vitamins like candy corn and subscribes to every crackpot alternative medicine theory there is, tossing down everything from shark cartilage to colloidal silver as part of his regular regimen. No sugar. No doctors. No hospitals. No pharmaceuticals. It was natural or nothing, baby.

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