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"Remembrance" Scrapbooking
Fun & Stuff
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Sat, 12 May 2007
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God Bless Mothers Who Drugged Us!
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 profane four-
letter word.
I was drug out to pull weeds in mom's garden and
flower beds and cockleburrs 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, America could be a better place.
Posted 13:05
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