At some point in the middle of my 70-year-old mom’s bong rip, as the distinctive schalp schlap schlap sound echoed in the kitchen, it dawned on me that my family life had recently taken a strange turn. Through a haze of pungent smoke I saw not just the woman who raised me, but a late-life social pioneer. Just a few years ago, my parents were a solid middle-class couple in a wholesome midwestern town who faced a fairly normal array of financial uncertainties and stresses as their careers wound down. But now, they have embarked on an astonishing second act in life — call it a Walter White retirement. Today, Mom and Dad are on the West Coast, living at the edge of the law, and bringing home huge wads of cash growing extremely high-grade weed in their backyard.