The Memo Story

Built for people who hold everything together

Cannabis wasn’t the problem, the culture around it was.

Some cannabis brands start in boardrooms, some start with trends, and some start with Silicon Valley money. The Memo started with two exhausted veterans — and the people who refused to let them quit.

Two parents trying to raise kids, manage trauma, juggle bills, survive work, and still show up every day. Two professionals trying to find relief without shame. Two humans craving a moment of peace in a world that never stops asking for more.

We didn’t start The Memo because cannabis was cool. We started it because life was hard — and we were done pretending it wasn’t.

“Cannabis wasn’t the problem. The culture around it was.” – Ivy

Every dispensary we walked into made us feel the same things:

judged
awkward
misunderstood
labeled
out of place

Yet in private, we knew tons of people using cannabis intentionally:

parents quietly trying to sleep
professionals trying to calm their minds
veterans trying to feel less alone
workers trying to get through tomorrow
caregivers trying to keep going

They weren’t stoners. They were humans carrying way too much, but nobody was talking to them. So we created a brand that would.

Everyone knows that phrase

Why The Memo?

Everyone knows that phrase:

“Guess you didn’t get the memo…”

Usually said by someone wearing a lanyard, holding lukewarm coffee, and scheduling another meeting that should’ve been an email.

We flipped it.

The Memo is the note people never got — the reminder that:

needing help doesn’t make you weak
wanting peace doesn’t make you a stereotype
cannabis isn’t shameful
you don’t need permission to heal

The Memo is for people who feel everything, but show up anyway.

Leadership

From Deployments to a Movement

Kyle didn’t learn leadership in an office.

He learned it on deployments, where survival depended on something the military rarely admits:

it’s the locals who help you win.

People who know the land, the terrain, the risk, the timing —

people who show up because they care, not because they have to.

Years later, building The Memo felt the same.

The right people showed up again.

Family and Friends

The People Who Helped Us Build The Memo

Josh aka The Knarly Farmer — The Grower Who Taught the “Ferrari” of Cannabis Cultivation

Josh taught Kyle hydroponic growing at a level most people never see — precision, discipline, environmental tuning, cleanliness, and consistency. He turned Kyle from a beginner into a craftsman and then taught Ivy.

David — The Retired Electrical Inspector Who Rebuilt a Theater

Our grow lives inside a restored movie theater in Cuba, NM.

It was abandoned until David took it personally — wiring it back to life with pride, safety, and heart.

Our Parents — The Silent Backbone

They watched the kids, loaned support, kept us grounded, fed us when we worked too long, believed in the vision even when it seemed impossible.

They didn’t just help.

They held the whole mission together.

Instagram Friends — The Digital Tribe That Kept Us Going

There were days we had no money, no help, no sleep, and no idea how we would keep going. And every time we posted our progress, someone online — a follower, a stranger, a fellow parent, a veteran — commented:

“You got this.”

“This matters.”

“Keep going.”

“We believe in you.”

Some of them we still haven’t met, but they became part of our backbone.

They made us feel seen when life felt invisible.

The Memo is not built by two people. It’s built by everyone who showed up — in person or online — when we needed it most.

The theater

The Abandoned Movie Theater That Became a Living Grow

The Memo’s grow was once a dusty, silent, forgotten building.

Now:

lights hum
plants breathe
air circulates like a heartbeat
intention fills every corner

The theater didn’t just get renovated. It got resurrected — by community, by family, by veterans, by New Mexicans, by people who believed long before it was safe to.

the money & the hope

The Day We Stood Before New Mexico

When we needed help, we didn’t run to investors who wanted control.

We went to the New Mexico Finance Authority,

stood in front of the board,

and told them the truth:

We’re building a clean, stigma-free brand for regular people —

parents, workers, veterans, caregivers, humans who deserve better.

And the board voted 12–0 to approve us, awarding one of New Mexico’s first state-backed cannabis loans.

That wasn’t just a loan.

It was a moment — the state saying:

“We see you.

We believe you.

Build this.”

WHO THE MEMO IS FOR

If you’ve ever needed a moment to breathe...

Parents carrying the whole world
Veterans fighting invisible battles
Workers exhausted by bad bosses and long weeks
Professionals smiling on Zoom while breaking inside
People who don’t want to feel judged
People healing quietly
People who choose peace over pressure

You’re the reason The Memo exists.

The memo is a movement

Our Values

The Memo is not a company. It’s not a strain line. It’s not a hype brand.

It’s a living thank-you to every person who believed in us —

our parents, our local allies, our Instagram tribe, our state, our community.

It’s the reminder people needed and never got.

You don’t have to be a stoner to want peace. You just have to be human.

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