We had some friends over the other night for dinner and were talking about how so many of our kids are ruining their lives with the use of Methamphetamine’s, Marijuana, Cocaine and who know what all. Someone asked the rhetorical question, “Why didn’t we have a drug problem when we were growing up?”
I jumped right in to answer that one. I told the group that I, for one, definitely had a drug problem when I was young. I was hooked by a very serious drug problem:
I was drug to church every Sunday morning. I was drug to church every Wednesday night and 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 by parents, told a lie, snitched an apple off of the neighbors tree, brought home a bad report card, spoke ill of the teacher or the preacher, or if I didn’t put forth my very 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 from Mom’s garden and flower beds. I was drug out to hoe the beans, peas, beets and any other crop my Dad was growing in the 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.
I was drug everywhere by my mom and dad who made sure I learned the important lessons of growing up and all those drugs are still in my veins. They affect my behavior in everything I do, say or think. They are stronger than cocaine, crack, heroin or meth and if today’s children had this kind of a drug problem, America would be a much better place.
God bless the parents who drugged us.

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