The following has been on the internet and read by many people. Perhaps you have read it, too. If not, enjoy. If you have, enjoy it again.
The other day someone at a store in our small town read that a Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old in a adjoining county and asked the rhetorical question, “Why didn’t we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?”
I replied, “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 drug into 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 preacher, 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, and cockleburs out of dad’s fields. I was drug to the homes of family, friends and neighbors to help out some poor soul who had no one to mow the yard, repair the clothes line, or chop some firewood, and if my mother ever known that I took a dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me back to the woodshed.
Those drugs are still in my veins and the affect my behavior in everything I do, say or think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack or heroin; and if today’s children had this kind of drug problem America would be a better place.