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 he asked
me a 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 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 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 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 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, 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.
author unknown
2007-01-10
12:19:40
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20 answers
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asked by
Anonymous