4:20.
4/20.

Pronounced four-twenty.

For some, it’s a time of day — 4:20 p.m. — culturally understood as a wink-wink moment to light up. For others, it’s April 20th, an unofficial holiday that turned into a global observance. Half celebration. Half protest. Half “see you at the statue.” (Yes, that math checks out in counterculture.)

Origins

Back in 1971, five high school students in San Rafael, California — who called themselves the Waldos — set out on what can only be described as a stoner treasure hunt. Armed with a map to an allegedly abandoned cannabis crop, they chose the San Rafael High School campus as their base of operations.

More specifically? The Louis Pasteur statue.

They agreed to meet at 4:20 p.m. Their code phrase? “4:20 Louis.”

By the way, they never found the crop, but they found a code. The phrase shortened to “4:20,” eventually morphing into shorthand for cannabis consumption itself. Years later, the term spread through friends of the Grateful Dead (because of course it did), and was later amplified by High Times in the early ’90s.

And just like that, a hallway whisper became a worldwide signal.

No police code.
No secret government file.
Just five teenagers and a statue.

History is weird like that.

International Observance of April 20

Over time, April 20th became more than an inside joke. It evolved into an international counterculture holiday — part rally, part festival, part civil disobedience.

Here in Washington State, gatherings like Seattle Hempfest embody that duality: half celebration, half policy push. The smoke in the air carries both freedom and advocacy.

Whether someone partakes or not, 4/20 has undeniably shaped cultural conversations around legalization, reform, and shifting norms.

And that’s where this post takes a SHARP left turn.

Because April 20th Isn’t Just a Date

It’s Mama Barb’s birthday. My mother-in-law-to-be. Now, before anyone reads too far into cosmic symbolism — relax. This isn’t about cannabis. It’s about coincidence, legacy, and the strange poetry of dates.

When I see 4/20 on a calendar, I don’t think of smoke clouds first. I think of her. And I think of my mom.

And I can’t help but imagine — if Mama Carina had lived to the same age — that she and Mama Barb would have found themselves cut from similar cloth.

Strong women. Sharp wit. Protective instincts. A little spice in the delivery. ZERO tolerance for nonsense.

Different lives. Same fabric.

There’s something poetic about the way dates hold multiple meanings at once. A global movement. A cultural code. A birthday cake with candles. Four Twenty is rebellion for some. Advocacy for others.

And for me? It’s family. It’s the reminder that while the world attaches meaning to numbers, we get to attach our own. April 20th will always be bigger than a meme, a rally, or a ritual time of day. It’s a celebration of a woman who raised the woman I get to marry.

And that? That’s the only observance I need.