charlie (ky)
New member
The other day, someone at a store in our town read that a
Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse, 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, 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 pick
bales 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, and think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or
heroin; and, if today's children had this kind of drug problem, this country of
ours would be a better place.
God bless the parents who drugged us.
Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old farmhouse, 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, 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 pick
bales 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, and think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, or
heroin; and, if today's children had this kind of drug problem, this country of
ours would be a better place.
God bless the parents who drugged us.