My Drug Problem

The other day, someone at a store mentioned that a Methamphetamine lab had been found in an old house nearby and he asked me a rhetorical question:

“Why didn’t we have a drug problem when you and I were growing up?”

This guy just didn’t have a clue. I DID have a drug problem when I was young:

• I was drug to church for weddings and funerals.
• I was drug to family reunions and community socials no matter if I wanted to go or not.
• I was drug by my ears when I was disrespectful to adults, when I disobeyed, told a lie, 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 Grandma’s garden and flowerbeds.
• 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, milk the cows or do the dishes; and, if my Grandmother would have ever known that I took a penny as a tip for this kindness, she would have drug me by my ears again.

Those drugs are still in my veins and they affect my behavior in everything I do, say, or think.