Drug Problem...
The other day, I read that a methamphetamine lab had been found in an old
farm house in a nearby county and asked a buddy of mine a rhetorical
question, "Why didn't we have a drug problem when you and I were growing
up?" Here is his reply:
I did have a drug problem when I was a kid growing up on the farm. 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, 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 if I uttered a profane word.
(I do know what soap tastes like.) I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's
garden and flower beds and mow the grass, take out the trash, and clean up
after the family. 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, fix their deck,
or chop some fire wood.
If my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this
kindness, she 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, and
think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack or heroin, and if today's
children had this kind of drug problem, America might be a better place
today.
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