The other day, someone at a store in our town 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 we were growing up?"
I replied, "I had a drug problem when I was young: I was drug to church on Sunday morning and I was drug to church for weddings and funerals. I was drug to family reunions and community socials, no matter what 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 n ot 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 word of profanity. I was drug out to pull weeds in my mom's garden and flower beds and cockleburs in my 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 clothesline, or chop some firewood, and, if my mother had ever known that I took a single dime as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me to the woodshed."
"Those drugs are still in my veins and to this day affect everything I say, do, or think. They are stronger than crack, cocaine, or 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."
AMEN to that!!!
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