Drug Problems...

 

The other day I was talking to someone at a store in our town who read
that a Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse in the
adjoining county and asked me a rhetorical question, "Why didn't we have
a drug problem when you and I were growing up?"

I replied that I had a drug problem when I was young: I was drug to
church on Sunday morning. I was drug to church for weddings and funerals.
I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the
weather.

I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults. I was also
drug to the woodshed when I disobeyed my parents, told a lie, brought
home a bad report card, did not speak with respect, spoke ill of the teacher
or the Pastor, or if I didn't put forth my best effort in everything that
was asked of me.

I was drug to the kitchen sink to have my mouth washed out with soap
if I uttered a profanity. I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's garden and
flower beds. I was drug to the homes of neighbors to help mow the yard,
repair the clothesline, and if my mother had ever known that I took a
single dime as a tip for this kindness, my dad would have drug me back to
the woodshed.

Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behavior in
everything I do, say, or think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, of
heroin: and if today's children had this kind of drug problem, America
would be a better place.
God bless the parents who drugged us.

 

 

 

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