The other day, a gentlemen at a store in a small town read that a
methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farm house in the
He asked me a rhetorical question. "Why didn't we have a drug
problem when you and I were growing up?"
I assured him that I did have a drug problem when I was a kid
growing up on the farm. "I was ............
Drug to church on Sunday morning.
Drug to church for weddings and funerals.
Drug to family reunions and community socials no matter the weather.
Drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults.
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 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 four letter word. (I
do know what Lye soap tastes like.)
Drug out to pull weeds in mom's garden and flower beds, and
cockleburs out of dad's fields.
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 fire wood, and 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 wood shed.
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."